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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1db5515 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66650 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66650) diff --git a/old/66650-0.txt b/old/66650-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index be7f556..0000000 --- a/old/66650-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9694 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Life of the Grasshopper, by J. Henri -Fabre - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Life of the Grasshopper - -Author: J. Henri Fabre - -Translator: Alexander Teixeira de Mattos - -Release Date: November 2, 2021 [eBook #66650] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project Gutenberg (This file - was produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE GRASSHOPPER *** - - - - THE WORKS OF J. H. FABRE - - THE LIFE OF THE - GRASSHOPPER - - - BY - J. HENRI FABRE - - Translated by - ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS, F.Z.S. - - - - HODDER AND STOUGHTON LIMITED - LONDON - - - - - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - TRANSLATOR’S NOTE vii - - CHAPTER - I THE FABLE OF THE CICADA AND THE ANT 1 - II THE CICADA: LEAVING THE BURROW 25 - III THE CICADA: THE TRANSFORMATION 42 - IV THE CICADA: HIS MUSIC 58 - V THE CICADA: THE LAYING AND THE HATCHING OF THE EGGS 82 - VI THE MANTIS: HER HUNTING 113 - VII THE MANTIS: HER LOVE-MAKING 137 - VIII THE MANTIS: HER NEST 147 - IX THE MANTIS: HER HATCHING 170 - X THE EMPUSA 191 - XI THE WHITE-FACED DECTICUS: HIS HABITS 211 - XII THE WHITE-FACED DECTICUS: THE LAYING AND THE - HATCHING OF THE EGGS 231 - XIII THE WHITE-FACED DECTICUS: THE INSTRUMENT OF SOUND 246 - XIV THE GREEN GRASSHOPPER 275 - XV THE CRICKET: THE BURROW; THE EGG 300 - XVI THE CRICKET: THE SONG; THE PAIRING 327 - XVII THE LOCUSTS: THEIR FUNCTION; THEIR ORGAN OF SOUND 354 - XVIII THE LOCUSTS: THEIR EGGS 378 - XIX THE LOCUSTS: THE LAST MOULT 401 - XX THE FOAMY CICADELLA 424 - - INDEX 447 - - - - - - - - -TRANSLATOR’S NOTE - - -I have ventured in the present volume to gather together, under the -somewhat loose and inaccurate title of The Life of the Grasshopper, the -essays scattered over the Souvenirs entomologiques that treat of -Grasshoppers, Crickets, Locusts and such insects as the Cicada, or -Cigale, the Mantis and the Cuckoo-spit, or, to adopt the author’s -happier and more euphonious term, the Foamy Cicadella. They exhaust the -number of the orthopterous and homopterous insects discussed by Henri -Fabre. - -Chapters I. to VIII., XV., XVI. and XIX. have already appeared, in -certain cases under different titles and partly in an abbreviated form, -in an interesting miscellany extracted from the Souvenirs, translated -by Mr. Bernard Miall and published by the Century Company. This volume, -Social Life in the Insect World, is illustrated with admirable -photographs of insects, taken from life, and deserves a prominent place -on the shelves of every lover of Fabre’s works. - -At the moment of writing, the only one of the following essays that has -been published before, in my translation, is the first of the three -describing the White-faced Decticus, which appeared, in the summer of -last year, in the English Review. - -Miss Frances Rodwell has again lent me the most valuable assistance in -preparing this volume; and I am indebted also to Mr. Osman Edwards and -Mr. Stephen McKenna for their graceful rhymed versions of the -occasional lyrics that adorn it. - - -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos. - - -Chelsea, 1917. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE FABLE OF THE CICADA AND THE ANT - - -Fame is built up mainly of legend; in the animal world, as in the world -of men, the story takes precedence of history. Insects in particular, -whether they attract our attention in this way or in that, have their -fair share in a folk-lore which pays but little regard to truth. - -For instance, who does not know the Cicada, at least by name? Where, in -the entomological world, can we find a renown that equals hers? Her -reputation as an inveterate singer, who takes no thought for the -future, has formed a subject for our earliest exercises in repetition. -In verses that are very easily learnt, she is shown to us, when the -bitter winds begin to blow, quite destitute and hurrying to her -neighbour, the Ant, to announce her hunger. The would-be borrower meets -with a poor welcome and with a reply which has remained proverbial and -is the chief cause of the little creature’s fame. Those two short -lines, - - - Vous chantiez! J’en suis bien en aise. - Eh bien, dansez maintenant, [1] - - -with their petty malice, have done more for the Cicada’s celebrity than -all her talent as a musician. They enter the child’s mind like a wedge -and never leave it. - -To most of us, the Cicada’s song is unknown, for she dwells in the land -of the olive-trees; but we all, big and little, have heard of the snub -which she received from the Ant. See how reputations are made! A story -of very doubtful value, offending as much against morality as against -natural history; a nursery-tale whose only merit lies in its brevity: -there we have the origin of a renown which will tower over the ruins of -the centuries like Hop-o’-my-Thumb’s boots and Little Red-Riding-Hood’s -basket. - -The child is essentially conservative. Custom and traditions become -indestructible once they are confided to the archives of his memory. We -owe to him the celebrity of the Cicada, whose woes he stammered in his -first attempts at recitation. He preserves for us the glaring -absurdities that are part and parcel of the fable: the Cicada will -always be hungry when the cold comes, though there are no Cicadæ left -in the winter; she will always beg for the alms of a few grains of -wheat, a food quite out of keeping with her delicate sucker; the -supplicant is supposed to hunt for Flies and grubs, she who never eats! - -Whom are we to hold responsible for these curious blunders? La -Fontaine, [2] who charms us in most of his fables with his exquisite -delicacy of observation, is very ill-inspired in this case. He knows -thoroughly his common subjects, the Fox, the Wolf, the Cat, the Goat, -the Crow, the Rat, the Weasel and many others, whose sayings and doings -he describes to us with delightful precision of detail. They are local -characters, neighbours, housemates of his. Their public and private -life is spent under his eyes; but, where Jack Rabbit gambols, the -Cicada is an entire stranger: La Fontaine never heard of her, never saw -her. To him the famous singer is undoubtedly a Grasshopper. - -Grandville, [3] whose drawings have the same delicious spice of malice -as the text itself, falls into the same error. In his illustration, we -see the Ant arrayed like an industrious housewife. Standing on her -threshold, beside great sacks of wheat, she turns a contemptuous back -on the borrower, who is holding out her foot, I beg pardon, her hand. -The second figure wears a great cartwheel hat, with a guitar under her -arm and her skirt plastered to her legs by the wind, and is the perfect -picture of a Grasshopper. Grandville no more than La Fontaine suspected -the real appearance of the Cicada; he reproduced magnificently the -general mistake. - -For the rest, La Fontaine, in his poor little story, only echoes -another fabulist. The legend of the Cicada’s sorry welcome by the Ant -is as old as selfishness, that is to say, as old as the world. The -children of Athens, going to school with their esparto-grass baskets -crammed with figs and olives, were already mumbling it as a piece for -recitation: - -“In winter,” said they, “the Ants dry their wet provisions in the sun. -Up comes a hungry Cicada begging. She asks for a few grains. The greedy -hoarders reply, ‘You used to sing in summer; now dance in winter.’” [4] - -This, although a little more baldly put, is precisely La Fontaine’s -theme and is contrary to all sound knowledge. - -Nevertheless the fable comes to us from Greece, which is preeminently -the land of olive-trees and Cicadæ. Was Æsop really the author, as -tradition pretends? It is doubtful. Nor does it matter, after all: the -narrator is a Greek and a fellow-countryman of the Cicada, whom he must -know well enough. My village does not contain a peasant so ignorant as -to be unaware of the absolute lack of Cicadæ in winter; every tiller of -the soil is familiar with the insect’s primary state, the larva, which -he turns over with his spade as often as he has occasion to bank up the -olive-trees at the approach of the cold weather; he knows, from seeing -it a thousand times along the paths, how this grub leaves the ground -through a round pit of its own making, how it fastens on to some twig, -splits its back, divests itself of its skin, now drier than shrivelled -parchment, and turns into the Cicada, pale grass-green at first, soon -to be succeeded by brown. - -The Attic peasant was no fool either: he had remarked that which cannot -escape the least observant eye; he also knew what my rustic neighbours -know so well. The poet, whoever he may have been, who invented the -fable was writing under the best conditions for knowing all about these -things. Then whence did the blunders in his story arise? - -The Greek fabulist had less excuse than La Fontaine for portraying the -Cicada of the books instead of going to the actual Cicada, whose -cymbals were echoing at his side; heedless of the real, he followed -tradition. He himself was but echoing a more ancient scribe; he was -repeating some legend handed down from India, the venerable mother of -civilizations. Without knowing exactly the story which the Hindu’s reed -had put in writing to show the danger of a life led without foresight, -we are entitled to believe that the little dialogue set down was nearer -to the truth than the conversation between the Cicada and the Ant. -India, the great lover of animals, was incapable of committing such a -mistake. Everything seems to tell us that the leading figure in the -original fable was not our Cicada but rather some other creature, an -insect if you will, whose habits corresponded fittingly with the text -adopted. - -Imported into Greece, after serving for centuries to make the wise -reflect and to amuse the children on the banks of the Indus, the -ancient story, perhaps as old as the first piece of economical advice -vouchsafed by Paterfamilias and handed down more or less faithfully -from memory to memory, must have undergone an alteration in its -details, as do all legends which the course of the ages adapts to -circumstances of time and place. - -The Greek, not possessing in his fields the insect of which the Hindu -spoke, dragged in, as the nearest thing to it, the Cicada, even as in -Paris, the modern Athens, the Cicada is replaced by the Grasshopper. -The mischief was done. Henceforth ineradicable, since it has been -confided to the memory of childhood, the mistake will prevail against -an obvious truth. - -Let us try to rehabilitate the singer slandered by the fable. He is, I -hasten to admit, an importunate neighbour. Every summer he comes and -settles in his hundreds outside my door, attracted by the greenery of -two tall plane-trees; and here, from sunrise to sunset, the rasping of -his harsh symphony goes through my head. Amid this deafening concert, -thought is impossible; one’s ideas reel and whirl, are incapable of -concentrating. When I have not profited by the early hours of the -morning, my day is lost. - -Oh, little demon, plague of my dwelling which I should like to have so -peaceful, they say that the Athenians used to rear you in a cage to -enjoy your singing at their ease! One we could do with, perhaps, during -the drowsy hour of digestion; but hundreds at a time, all rattling and -drumming in our ears when we are trying to collect our thoughts, that -is sheer torture! You say that you were here first, do you? Before I -came, you were in undisputed possession of the two plane-trees; and it -is I who am the intruder there. I agree. Nevertheless, muffle your -drums, moderate your arpeggios, for the sake of your biographer! - -Truth will have none of the absurd rigmarole which we find in the -fable. That there are sometimes relations between the Cicada and the -Ant is most certain; only, these relations are the converse of what we -are told. They are not made on the initiative of the Cicada, who is -never dependent on the aid of others for his living; they come from the -Ant, a greedy spoiler, who monopolizes every edible thing for her -granaries. At no time does the Cicada go crying famine at the doors of -the Ant-hills, promising honestly to repay principal and interest; on -the contrary, it is the Ant who, driven by hunger, begs and entreats -the singer. Entreats, do I say? Borrowing and repaying form no part of -the pillager’s habits. She despoils the Cicada, brazenly robs him of -his possessions. Let us describe this theft, a curious point in natural -history and, as yet, unknown. - -In July, during the stifling heat of the afternoon, when the insect -populace, parched with thirst, vainly wanders around the limp and -withered flowers in search of refreshment, the Cicada laughs at the -general need. With that delicate gimlet, his rostrum, he broaches a -cask in his inexhaustible cellar. Sitting, always singing, on the -branch of a shrub, he bores through the firm, smooth bark swollen with -sap ripened by the sun. Driving his sucker through the bung-hole, he -drinks luxuriously, motionless and rapt in contemplation, absorbed in -the charms of syrup and song. - -Watch him for a little while. We shall perhaps witness unexpected -tribulation. There are many thirsty ones prowling around, in fact; they -discover the well betrayed by the sap that oozes from the margin. They -hasten up, at first with some discretion, confining themselves to -licking the fluid as it exudes. I see gathering around the mellifluous -puncture Wasps, Flies, Earwigs, Sphex-wasps, [5] Pompili, [6] -Rose-chafers [7] and, above all, Ants. - -The smallest, in order to reach the well, slip under the abdomen of the -Cicada, who good-naturedly raises himself on his legs and leaves a free -passage for the intruders; the larger ones, unable to stand still for -impatience, quickly snatch a sip, retreat, take a walk on the -neighbouring branches and then return and show greater enterprise. The -coveting becomes more eager; the discreet ones of a moment ago develop -into turbulent aggressors, ready to chase away from the spring the -well-sinker who caused it to gush forth. - -In this brigandage, the worst offenders are the Ants. I have seen them -nibbling at the ends of the Cicada’s legs; I have caught them tugging -at the tips of his wings, climbing on his back, tickling his antennæ. -One, greatly daring, went to the length, before my eyes, of catching -hold of his sucker and trying to pull it out. - -Thus worried by these pigmies and losing all patience, the giant ends -by abandoning the well. He flees, spraying the robbers with his urine -as he goes. What cares the Ant for this expression of supreme contempt! -Her object is attained. She is now the mistress of the spring, which -dries up only too soon when the pump that made it flow ceases to work. -There is little of it, but that little is exquisite. It is so much to -the good, enabling her to wait for another draught, acquired in the -same fashion, as soon as the occasion presents itself. - -You see, the actual facts entirely reverse the parts assigned in the -fable. The hardened beggar, who does not shrink from theft, is the Ant; -the industrious artisan, gladly sharing his possessions with the -sufferer, is the Cicada. I will mention one more detail; and the -reversal of characters will stand out even more clearly. After five or -six weeks of wassail, which is a long space of time, the singer, -exhausted by the strain of life, drops from the tree. The sun dries up -the body; the feet of the passers-by crush it. The Ant, always a -highway-robber in search of spoil, comes upon it. She cuts up the rich -dish, dissects it, carves it and reduces it to morsels which go to -swell her hoard of provisions. It is not unusual to see a dying Cicada, -with his wing still quivering in the dust, drawn and quartered by a -gang of knackers. He is quite black with them. After this cannibalistic -proceeding, there is no question as to the true relations between the -two insects. - -The ancients held the Cicada in high favour. Anacreon, the Greek -Béranger, [8] devoted an ode to singing his praises in curiously -exaggerated language: - -“Thou art almost like unto the gods,” says he. - -The reasons which he gives for this apotheosis are none of the best. -They consist of these three privileges: γηγενής, απαθής, ὰναιμόσαρκε; -earthborn, insensible to pain, bloodless. Let us not start reproaching -the poet for these blunders, which were generally believed at the time -and perpetuated for very long after, until the observer’s searching -eyes were opened. Besides, it does not do to look so closely at verses -whose chief merit lies in harmony and rhythm. - -Even in our own days, the Provençal poets, who are at least as familiar -with the Cicada as Anacreon was, are not so very careful of the truth -in celebrating the insect which they take as an emblem. One of my -friends, a fervent observer and a scrupulous realist, escapes this -reproach. He has authorized me to take from his unpublished verse the -following Provençal ballad, which depicts the relations between the -Cicada and the Ant with strictly scientific accuracy. I leave to him -the responsibility for his poetic images and his moral views, delicate -flowers outside my province as a naturalist; but I can vouch for the -truth of his story, which tallies with what I see every summer on the -lilac-trees in my garden. - - - LA CIGALO E LA FOURNIGO - - I - - Jour de Dièu, queto caud! Bèu tèms pèr la cigalo - Que, trefoulido, se regalo - D’uno raisso de fiò; bèu tèms pèr la meissoun. - Dins lis erso d’or, lou segaire, - Ren plega, pitre au vent, rustico e canto gaire: - Dins soun gousiè, la set estranglo la cansoun. - - Tèms benesi pèr tu. Dounc, ardit! cigaleto, - Fai-lei brusi, ti chimbaleto, - E brandusso lou ventre à creba ti mirau. - L’Ome enterin mando la daio, - Que vai balin-balan de longo e que dardaio - L’uiau de soun acié sus li rous espigau. - - Plèn d’aigo pèr la péiro e tampouna d’erbiho - Lou coufié sus l’anco pendiho. - Se la péiro es au frès dins soun estui de bos - E se de longo es abèurado, - L’Ome barbelo au fiò d’aqueli souleiado - Que fan bouli de fes la mesoulo dis os. - - Tu, Cigalo, as un biais pèr la set: dins la rusco - Tendro e jutouso d’uno busco, - L’aguio de toun bè cabusso e cavo un pous. - Lou sirò monto pèr la draio. - T’amourres à la fon melicouso que raio, - E dòu sourgènt sucra bèves lou teta-dous. - - Mai pas toujour en pas, oh! que nàni: de laire, - Vesin, vesino o barrulaire, - T’an vist cava lou pous. An set; vènon, doulènt, - Te prène un degout pèr si tasso. - Mesfiso-te, ma bello: aqueli curo-biasso, - Umble d’abord, soun lèu de gusas insoulènt. - - Quiston un chicouloun de rèn; pièi de ti resto - Soun plus countènt, ausson la testo - E volon tout. L’auran. Sis arpioun en rastèu - Te gatihoun lou bout de l’alo. - Sus ta larjo esquinasso es un mounto-davalo; - T’aganton pèr lou bè, li bano, lis artèu; - - Tiron d’eici, d’eilà. L’impaciènci te gagno. - Pst! pst! d’un giscle de pissagno - Aspèrges l’assemblado e quites lou ramèu. - T’en vas bèn liuen de la racaio, - Que t’a rauba lou pous, e ris, e se gougaio, - E se lipo li brego enviscado de mèu. - - Or d’aqueli boumian abèura sens fatigo, - Lou mai tihous es la fournigo. - Mousco, cabrian, guespo e tavan embana, - Espeloufi de touto meno, - Costo-en-long qu’à toun pous lou souleias ameno, - N’an pas soun testardige à te faire enana. - - Pèr t’esquicha l’artèu, te coutiga lou mourre, - Te pessuga lou nas, pèr courre - A l’oumbro de toun ventre, osco! degun la vau. - Lou marrit-péu prend pèr escalo - Uno patto e te monto, ardido, sus lis alo, - E s’espasso, insoulènto, e vai d’amont, d’avau. - - II - - Aro veici qu’es pas de crèire. - Ancian tèms, nous dison li rèire, - Un jour d’ivèr, la fam te prenguè. Lou front bas - E d’escoundoun anères vèire, - Dins si grand magasin, la fournigo, eilàbas. - - L’endrudido au soulèu secavo, - Avans de lis escoundre en cavo, - Si blad qu’aviè mousi l’eigagno de la niue. - Quand èron lest lis ensacavo. - Tu survènes alor, emè de plour is iue. - - Ié disés: “Fai bèn fre; l’aurasso - D’un caire à l’autre me tirasso - Avanido de fam. A toun riche mouloun - Leisso-me prène pèr ma biasso. - Te lou rendrai segur au bèu tèms di meloun. - - “Presto-me un pau de gran.” Mai, bouto, - Se cresès que l’autro, t’escouto, - T’enganes. Di gros sa, rèn de rèn sara tièu. - “Vai-t’en plus liuen rascia de bouto; - Crebo de fam l’iver, tu que cantes l’estièu” - - Ansin charro la fablo antico - Pèr nous counséia la pratico - Di sarro-piastro, urous de nousa li courdoun - De si bourso.—Que la coulico - Rousiguè la tripaio en aqueli coudoun! - - Me fai susa, lou fabulisto, - Quand dis que l’ivèr vas en quisto - De mousco, verme, gran, tu que manges jamai. - De blad! Que n’en fariès, ma fisto! - As ta fon melicouso e demandes rèn mai. - - Que t’enchau l’ivèr! Ta famiho - A la sousto en terro soumiho, - E tu dormes la som que n’a ges de revèi; - Toun cadabre toumbo en douliho. - Un jour, en tafurant, la fournigo lou vèi. - - De ta magro péu dessecado - La marriasso fai becado; - Te curo lou perus, te chapouto à moucèu, - T’encafourno pèr car-salado, - Requisto prouvisioun, l’ivèr, en tèms de nèu. - - III - - Vaqui l’istori veritablo - Bèn liuen dòu conte de la fablo. - Que n’en pensas, canèu de sort! - —O ramaissaire de dardeno, - Det croucu, boumbudo bedeno - Que gouvernas lou mounde emé lou coffre-fort, - - Fasès courre lou bru, canaio - Que l’artisto jamai travaio - E dèu pati, lou bedigas. - Teisas-vous dounc: quand di lambrusco - La Cigalo a cava la rusco, - Raubas soun bèure, e pièi, morto, la rousigas. - - -Thus speaks my friend, in his expressive Provençal tongue, -rehabilitating the Cicada, who has been so grossly libelled by the -fabulist. - - - - -TRANSLATOR’S NOTE - -I am indebted for the following translation to the felicitous pen of my -friend Mr. Osman Edwards: - - - THE CICADA AND THE ANT - - I - - Ye gods, what heat! Cicada thrills - With mad delight when fairy rills - Submerge the corn in waves of gold, - When, with bowed back and toil untold, - His blade the songless reaper plies, - For in dry throats song gasps and dies. - - This hour is thine: then, loud and clear, - Thy cymbals clash, Cicada dear, - Let mirrors crack, let belly writhe! - Behold! The man yet darts his scythe, - Whose glitter lifts and drops again - A lightning-flash on ruddy grain. - - With grass and water well supplied, - His whetstone dangles at his side; - The whetstone in its case of wood - Has moisture for each thirsty mood; - But he, poor fellow, pants and moans, - The marrow boiling in his bones. - - Dost thirst, Cicada? Never mind! - Deep in a young bough’s tender rind - Thy sharp proboscis bores a well, - Whence, narrowly, sweet juices swell. - Ah, soon what honied joys are thine - To quaff a vintage so divine! - - In peace? Not always.... There’s a band - Of roving thieves (or close at hand) - Who watched thee draw the nectar up - And beg one drop with doleful cup. - Beware, my love! They humbly crave; - Soon each will prove a saucy knave. - - The merest sip?—’Tis set aside. - What’s left?—They are not satisfied. - All must be theirs, who rudely fling - A rakish claw athwart thy wing; - Next on thy back swarm up and down, - From tip to toe, from tail to crown. - - On every side they fuss and fret, - Provoking an impatient jet; - Thou leavest soon the sprinkled rind, - Its robber-rascals, far behind; - Thy well purloined, each grins and skips - And licks the honey from her lips. - - No tireless, quenchless mendicant - Is so persistent as the Ant; - Wasps, Beetles, Hornets, Drones and Flies, - Sharpers of every sort and size, - Loafers, intent on ousting thee, - All are less obstinate than she. - - To pinch thy toe, thy nose to tweak, - To tickle face and loins, to sneak - Beneath thy belly, who so bold? - Give her the tiniest foothold, - The slut will march from side to side - Across thy wings in shameless pride. - - II - - Now here’s a story that is told, - Incredible, by men of old: - Once starving on a winter’s day - By secret, miserable way - Thou soughtest out the Ant and found - Her spacious warehouse underground. - - That rich possessor in the sun - Was busy drying, one by one, - Her treasures, moist with the night’s dew, - Before she buried them from view - In corn-sacks of sufficient size; - Then didst thou sue with tearful eyes, - - Saying, “Alas! This deadly breeze - Pursues me everywhere; I freeze - With hunger; let me fill (no more!) - My wallet from that copious store; - Next year, when melons are full-blown, - Be sure I shall repay the loan! - - “Lend me a little corn!”—Absurd! - Of course she will not hear a word; - Thou wilt not win, for all thy pain, - From bulging sacks a single grain. - “Be off and scrape the binns!” she cries: - “Who sang in June, in winter dies.” - - Thus doth the ancient tail impart - Fit moral for a miser’s heart; - Bids him all charity forget - And draw his purse-strings tighter yet. - May colic chase such scurvy knaves - With pangs internal to their graves! - - A sorry fabulist, indeed, - Who fancied that the winter’s need - Would drive thee to subsist, forlorn, - On Flies, on grubs, on grains of corn; - No need was ever thine of those, - For whom the honied fountain flows. - - What matters winter? All thy kin - Beneath the earth are gathered in; - Thou sleepest with unwaking heart, - While the frail body falls apart - In rags that unregarded lie, - Save by the Ant’s rapacious eye. - - She, groping greedily, one day - Makes of thy shrivelled corpse her prey; - Dissects the trunk, gnaws limb from limb, - Concocts, according to her whim, - A salad such grim housewives know, - A tit-bit saved for hours of snow. - - III - - That, gentlemen, is truly told, - Unlike the fairy-tale of old; - But finds it favour in his sight, - Who grabs at farthings, day and night? - Pot-bellied, crooked-fingered, he - Would rule the world with L.S.D. - - Such riff-raff spread the vulgar view - That “artists are a lazy crew,” - That “fools must suffer.” Silent be! - When the Cicada taps the tree, - You steal his drink; when life has fled, - You basely batten on the dead. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE CICADA: LEAVING THE BURROW - - -To come back to the Cicada after Réaumur [9] has told the insect’s -story would be waste of time, save that the disciple enjoys an -advantage unknown to the master. The great naturalist received the -materials for his work from my part of the world; his subjects came by -barge after being carefully preserved in spirits. I, on the other hand, -live in the Cicada’s company. When July comes, he takes possession of -the enclosure right up to the threshold of the house. The hermitage is -our joint property. I remain master indoors; but out of doors he is the -sovereign lord and an extremely noisy and abusive one. Our near -neighbourhood and constant association have enabled me to enter into -certain details of which Réaumur could not dream. - -The first Cicadæ appear at the time of the summer solstice. Along the -much-trodden paths baked by the sun and hardened by the frequent -passage of feet there open, level with the ground, round orifices about -the size of a man’s thumb. These are the exit-holes of the -Cicada-larvæ, who come up from the depths to undergo their -transformation on the surface. They are more or less everywhere, except -in soil turned over by the plough. Their usual position is in the -driest spots, those most exposed to the sun, especially by the side of -the roads. Equipped with powerful tools to pass, if necessary, through -sandstone and dried clay, the larva, on leaving the earth, has a fancy -for the hardest places. - -One of the garden-paths, converted into a little inferno by the glare -from a wall facing south, abounds in such exit-holes. I proceed, in the -last days of June, to examine these recently abandoned pits. The soil -is so hard that I have to take my pickaxe to tackle it. - -The orifices are round and nearly an inch in diameter. There is -absolutely no rubbish around them, no mound of earth thrown up outside. -This is invariably the case: the Cicada’s hole is never surmounted with -a mole-hill, as are the burrows of the Geotrupes, [10] or Dorbeetles, -those other sturdy excavators. The manner of working accounts for this -difference. The Dung-beetle progresses from the outside inwards; he -commences his digging at the mouth of the well, which allows him to -ascend and heap up on the surface the material which he has extracted. -The larva of the Cicada, on the other hand, goes from the inside -outwards; the last thing that it does is to open the exit-door, which, -remaining closed until the very end of the work, cannot be used for -getting rid of the rubbish. The former goes in and makes a mound on the -threshold of the home; the latter comes out and cannot heap up anything -on a threshold that does not yet exist. - -The Cicada’s tunnel runs to a depth of between fifteen and sixteen -inches. It is cylindrical, winds slightly, according to the exigencies -of the soil, and is always nearly perpendicular, for it is shorter to -go that way. The passage is quite open throughout its length. It is -useless to search for the rubbish which this excavation ought, one -would think, to produce; we see none anywhere. The tunnel ends in a -blind alley, in a rather wider chamber, with level walls and not the -least vestige of communication with any gallery prolonging the well. - -Reckoned by its length and its diameter, the excavation represents a -volume of about twelve cubic inches. What has become of the earth -removed? Sunk in very dry and very loose soil, the well and the chamber -at the bottom ought to have crumbly walls, which would easily fall in, -if nothing else had taken place but the work of boring. My surprise was -great to find, on the contrary, coated surfaces, washed with a paste of -clayey earth. They are not by a long way what one could call smooth, -but at any rate their irregularities are covered with a layer of -plaster; and their slippery materials, soaked with some agglutinant, -are kept in position. - -The larva can move about and climb nearly up to the surface and down -again to its refuge at the bottom without producing, with its clawed -legs, landslips which would block the tube, making ascent difficult and -retreat impossible. The miner shores up his galleries with pit-props -and cross-beams; the builder of underground railways strengthens his -tunnels with a casing of brickwork; the Cicada’s larva, which is quite -as clever an engineer, cements its shaft so as to keep it open however -long it may have to serve. - -If I surprise the creature at the moment when it emerges from the soil -to make for a neighbouring branch and there undergo its transformation, -I see it at once beat a prudent retreat and, without the slightest -difficulty, run down again to the bottom of its gallery, proving that, -even when the dwelling is on the point of being abandoned for good, it -does not become blocked with earth. - -The ascending-shaft is not a piece of work improvised in a hurry, in -the insect’s impatience to reach the sunlight; it is a regular -manor-house, an abode in which the grub is meant to make a long stay. -So the plastered walls tell us. Any such precaution would be -superfluous in the case of a mere exit abandoned as soon as bored. -There is not a doubt but that we have here a sort of meteorological -station in which observations are taken of the weather outside. -Underground, fifteen inches down, or more, the larva ripe for its -emergence is hardly able to judge whether the climatic conditions be -favourable. Its subterranean weather is too gradual in its changes to -be able to supply it with the precise indications necessary for the -most important action of its life, its escape into the sunlight for the -metamorphosis. - -Patiently, for weeks, perhaps for months, it digs, clears and -strengthens a perpendicular chimney, leaving at the surface, to keep it -sequestered from the world without, a layer as thick as one’s finger. -At the bottom it makes itself a recess more carefully built than the -remainder. This is its refuge, its waiting-room, where it rests if its -reconnoitring lead it to defer its emigration. At the least suspicion -of fine weather, it scrambles up, tests the exterior through the thin -layer of earth forming a lid and enquires into the temperature and the -degree of humidity of the air. - -If things do not bode well, if a heavy shower threaten or a blustering -storm—events of supreme importance when the delicate Cicada throws off -her skin—the prudent insect slips back to the bottom of the tube and -goes on waiting. If, on the other hand, the atmospheric conditions be -favourable, then the ceiling is smashed with a few strokes of the claws -and the larva emerges from the well. - -Everything seems to confirm that the Cicada’s gallery is a -waiting-room, a meteorological station where the larva stays for a long -time, now hoisting itself near the surface to discover the state of the -weather, now retreating to the depths for better shelter. This explains -the convenience of a resting-place at the base and the need for a -strong cement on walls which, without it, would certainly give way -under continual comings and goings. - -What is not so easily explained is the complete disappearance of the -rubbish corresponding with the space excavated. What has become of the -twelve cubic inches of earth yielded by an average well? There is -nothing outside to represent them, nor anything inside either. And then -how, in a soil dry as cinders, is the plaster obtained with which the -walls are glazed? - -Larvæ that gnaw into wood, such as those of the Capricorn and the -Buprestes, [11] for instance, ought to be able to answer the first -question. They make their way inside a tree-trunk, boring galleries by -eating the materials of the road which they open. Detached in tiny -fragments by the mandibles, these materials are digested. They pass -through the pioneer’s body from end to end, yielding up their meagre -nutritive elements on the way, and accumulate behind, completely -blocking the road which the grub will never take again. The work of -excessive division and subdivision, done either by the mandibles or the -stomach, causes the digested materials to take up less room than the -untouched wood; and the result is a space in front of the gallery, a -chamber in which the grub works, a chamber which is greatly restricted -in length, giving the prisoner just enough room to move about. - -Can it not be in a similar fashion that the Cicada-grub bores its -tunnel? Certainly the waste material flung up as it digs its way does -not pass through its body; even if the soil were of the softest and -most yielding character, earth plays no part whatever in the larva’s -food. But, after all, cannot the materials removed be simply shot back -as the work proceeds? The Cicada remains four years in the ground. This -long life is not, of course, spent at the bottom of the well which we -have described: this is just a place where the larva prepares for its -emergence. It comes from elsewhere, doubtless from some distance. It is -a vagabond, going from one root to another and driving its sucker into -each. When it moves, either to escape from the upper layers, which are -too cold in winter, or to settle down at a better drinking-bar, it -clears a road by flinging behind it the materials broken up by its -pickaxes. This is undoubtedly the method. - -As with the larvæ of the Capricorn and the Buprestes, the traveller -needs around him only the small amount of free room which his movements -require. Damp, soft, easily compressed earth is to this larva what the -digested pap is to the others. Such earth is heaped up without -difficulty; it condenses and leaves a vacant space. - -The difficulty is one of a different kind with the exit-well bored in a -very dry soil, which offers a marked resistance to compression so long -as it retains its aridity. That the larva, when beginning to dig its -passage, flung back part of the excavated materials into an earlier -gallery which has now disappeared is fairly probable, though there is -nothing in the condition of things to tell us so; but, if we consider -the capacity of the well and the extreme difficulty of finding room for -so great a volume of rubbish, our doubts return and we say to -ourselves: - -“This rubbish demanded a large empty space, which itself was obtained -by shifting other refuse no less difficult to house. The room required -presupposes the existence of another space into which the earth -extracted was shot.” - -And so we find ourselves in a vicious circle, for the mere subsidence -of materials flung behind would not be enough to explain so great a -void. The Cicada must have a special method of disposing of the -superfluous earth. Let us try and surprise his secret. - -Examine a larva at the moment when it emerges from the ground. It is -nearly always more or less soiled with mud, sometimes wet, sometimes -dry. The digging-implements, the fore-feet, have the points of their -pickaxes stuck in a globule of slime; its other legs are cased in mud; -its back is spotted with clay. We are reminded of a scavenger who has -been stirring up sewage. These stains are the more striking inasmuch as -the creature comes out of exceedingly dry ground. We expected to see it -covered with dust and we find it covered with mud. - -One more step in this direction and the problem of the well is solved. -I exhume a larva which happens to be working at its exit-gallery. Very -occasionally, I get a piece of luck like this, in the course of my -digging; it would be useless for me to try for it, as there is nothing -outside to guide my search. My welcome prize is just beginning its -excavations. An inch of tunnel, free from any rubbish, and the -waiting-room at the bottom represent all the work for the moment. In -what condition is the worker? We shall see. - -The grub is much paler in colour than those which I catch as they -emerge. Its big eyes in particular are whitish, cloudy, squinting and -apparently of little use for seeing. What good is sight underground? -The eyes of the larvæ issuing from the earth are, on the contrary, -black and shining and indicate ability to see. When it makes its -appearance in the sunshine, the future Cicada has to seek, occasionally -at some distance from the exit-hole, the hanging branch on which the -metamorphosis will be performed; and here sight will manifestly be -useful. This maturity of vision attained during the preparation for the -release is enough to show us that the larva, far from hastily -improvising its ascending-shaft, works at it for a long time. - -Moreover, the pale and blind larva is bulkier than it is in the state -of maturity. It is swollen with liquid and looks dropsical. If you take -it in your fingers, a limpid humour oozes from the hinder part and -moistens the whole body. Is this fluid, expelled from the intestines, a -urinary product? Is it just the residue of a stomach fed solely on sap? -I will not decide the question and will content myself with calling it -urine, merely for convenience. - -Well, this fountain of urine is the key to the mystery. The larva, as -it goes on and digs, sprinkles the dusty materials and makes them into -paste, which is forthwith applied to the walls by abdominal pressure. -The original dryness is succeeded by plasticity. The mud obtained -penetrates the interstices of a rough soil; the more liquid part of it -trickles in front; the remainder is compressed and packed and occupies -the empty spaces in between. Thus is an unblocked tunnel obtained, -without any refuse, because the dust and rubbish are used on the spot -in the form of a mortar which is more compact and more homogeneous than -the soil traversed. - -The larva therefore works in the midst of clayey mire; and this is the -cause of the stains that astonish us so much when we see it issuing -from excessively dry soil. The perfect insect, though relieved -henceforth from all mining labour, does not utterly abandon the use of -its bladder; a few drains of urine are preserved as a weapon of -defence. When too closely observed, it discharges a spray at the -intruder and quickly flies away. In either form, the Cicada, his dry -constitution notwithstanding, proves himself a skilled irrigator. - -Dropsical though it be, the larva cannot carry sufficient liquid to -moisten and turn into compressible mud the long column of earth which -has to be tunnelled. The reservoir becomes exhausted and the supply has -to be renewed. How is this done and when? I think I see. - -The few wells which I have laid bare throughout their length, with the -painstaking care which this sort of digging demands, show me at the -bottom, encrusted in the wall of the terminal chamber, a live root, -sometimes as big as a lead-pencil, sometimes no thicker than a straw. -The visible part of this root is quite small, barely a fraction of an -inch. The rest is contained in the surrounding earth. Is the discovery -of this sort of sap fortuitous? Or is it the result of a special search -on the larva’s part? The presence of a rootlet is so frequent, at least -when my digging is skilfully conducted, that I rather favour the latter -alternative. - -Yes, the Cicada-grub, when hollowing out its cell, the starting-point -of the future chimney, seeks the immediate neighbourhood of a small -live root; it lays bare a certain portion, which continues the side -wall without projecting. This live spot in the wall is, I think, the -fount from which the contents of the urinary bladder are renewed as the -need arises. When its reserves are exhausted by the conversion of dry -dust into mud, the miner goes down to his chamber, drives in his sucker -and takes a deep draught from the cask built into the wall. With his -jug well filled, he goes up again. He resumes his work, wetting the -hard earth the better to flatten it with his claws and reducing the -dusty rubbish to mud which can be heaped up around him and leave a -clear thoroughfare. That is how things must happen. So logic and the -circumstances of the case tell us, in the absence of direct -observation, which is not feasible here. - -If this root-cask fail, if moreover the reservoir of the intestine be -exhausted, what will happen then? We shall learn from the following -experiment. I catch a grub as it is leaving the ground. I put it at the -bottom of a test-tube and cover it with a column of dry earth, not too -closely packed. The column is nearly six inches high. The larva has -just quitted an excavation thrice as deep, in soil of the same nature, -but offering a much greater resistance. Now that it is buried under my -short, sandy column, will it be capable of climbing to the surface? If -it were a mere matter of strength, the issue would be certain. What can -an obstacle without cohesion be to one that has just bored a hole -through the hard ground? - -And yet I am assailed by doubts. To break down the screen that still -separated it from the outer air, the larva has expended its last -reserves of fluid. The flask is dry; and there is no way of -replenishing it in the absence of a live root. My suspicion of failure -is well-founded. For three days I see the entombed one wasting itself -in efforts without succeeding in rising an inch higher. The materials -removed refuse to stay in position for lack of anything to bind them; -they are no sooner pushed aside than they slip down again under the -insect’s legs. The labour has no perceptible result and has always to -be done all over again. On the fourth day, the creature dies. - -With the water-can full, the result is quite different. I subject to -the same experiment an insect whose work of self-deliverance is just -beginning. It is all swollen with urinary humours which ooze out and -moisten its whole body. This one’s task is easy. The materials offer -hardly any resistance. A little moisture, supplied by the miner’s -flask, converts them into mud, sticks them together and keeps them out -of the way. The passage is opened, very irregular in shape, it is true, -and almost filled up at the back as the ascent proceeds. It is as -though the larva, recognizing the impossibility of renewing its store -of fluid, were saving up the little which it possesses and spending no -more than is strictly necessary to enable it to escape as quickly as -possible from its unfamiliar surroundings. This economy is so well -arranged that the insect reaches the surface at the end of ten days. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE CICADA: THE TRANSFORMATION - - -The exit-gate is passed and left wide open, like a hole made with a -large gimlet. For some time the larva wanders about the neighbourhood, -looking for some aerial support, a tiny bush, a tuft of thyme, a blade -of grass or the twig of a shrub. It finds it, climbs up and, head -upwards, clings to it firmly with the claws of the fore-feet, which -close and do not let go again. The other legs take part in sustaining -it, if the position of the branch make this possible; if not, the two -claws suffice. There follows a moment of rest to allow the supporting -arms to stiffen into an immovable grip. - -First, the mesothorax splits along the middle of the back. The edges of -the slit separate slowly and reveal the pale-green colour of the -insect. Almost immediately afterwards, the prothorax splits also. The -longitudinal fissure reaches the back of the head above and the -metathorax below, without spreading farther. The wrapper of the skull -breaks crosswise, in front of the eyes; and the red stemmata appear. -The green portion uncovered by these ruptures swells and protrudes over -the whole of the mesothorax. We see slow palpitations, alternate -contractions and distensions due to the ebb and flow of the blood. This -hernia, working at first out of sight, is the wedge that made the -cuirass split along two crossed lines of least resistance. - -The skinning-operation makes rapid progress. Soon the head is free. -Then the rostrum and the front legs gradually leave their sheaths. The -body is horizontal, with the ventral surface turned upwards. Under the -wide-open carapace appear the hinder legs, the last to be released. The -wings are distended with moisture. They are still rumpled and look like -stumps bent into a bow. This first phase of the transformation has -taken but ten minutes. - -There remains the second, which lasts longer. The whole of the insect -is free, except the tip of the abdomen, which is still contained in its -scabbard. The cast skin continues to grip the twig. Stiffening as the -result of quick desiccation, it preserves without change the attitude -which it had at the start. It forms the pivot for what is about to -follow. - -Fixed to his slough by the tip of the abdomen, which is not yet -extracted, the Cicada turns over perpendicularly, head downwards. He is -pale-green, tinged with yellow. The wings, until now compressed into -thick stumps, straighten out, unfurl, spread under the rush of the -liquid with which they are gorged. When this slow and delicate -operation is ended, the Cicada, with an almost imperceptible movement, -draws himself up by sheer strength of loin and resumes a normal -position, head upwards. The fore-legs hook on to the empty skin; and at -last the tip of the belly is drawn from its sheath. The extraction is -over. The work has required half an hour altogether. - -Here is the whole insect, freed from its mask, but how different from -what it will be presently! The wings are heavy, moist, transparent, -with their veins a light green. The prothorax and mesothorax are barely -tinged with brown. All the rest of the body is pale-green, whitish in -places. It must bathe in air and sunshine for a long time before -strength and colour can come to its frail body. About two hours pass -without producing any noticeable change. Hanging to his cast skin by -his fore-claws only, the Cicada sways at the least breath of air, still -feeble and still green. At last the brown tinge appears, becomes more -marked and is soon general. Half an hour has effected the change of -colour. Slung from the suspension-twig at nine o’clock in the morning, -the Cicada flies away, before my eyes, at half-past twelve. - -The cast skin remains, intact, save for its fissure, and so firmly -fastened that the rough weather of autumn does not always succeed in -bringing it to the ground. For some months yet, even during the winter, -one often meets old skins hanging in the bushes in the exact position -adopted by the larva at the moment of its transformation. Their horny -nature, something like dry parchment, ensures a long existence for -these relics. - -Let us hark back for a moment to the gymnastic feat which enables the -Cicada to leave his scabbard. At first retained by the tip of the -abdomen, which is the last part to remain in its case, the Cicada turns -over perpendicularly, head downwards. This somersault allows him to -free his wings and legs, after the head and chest have already made -their appearance by cracking the armour under the pressure of a hernia. -Now comes the time to free the end of the abdomen, the pivot of this -inverted attitude. For this purpose, the insect, with a laborious -movement of its back, draws itself up, brings its head to the top again -and hooks itself with its fore-claws to the cast skin. A fresh support -is thus obtained, enabling it to pull the tip of its abdomen from its -sheath. - -There are therefore two means of support: first the end of the belly -and then the front claws; and there are two principal movements: in the -first place the downward somersault, in the second place the return to -the normal position. These gymnastics demand that the larva shall fix -itself to a twig, head upwards, and that it shall have a free space -beneath it. Suppose that these conditions were lacking, thanks to my -wiles: what would happen? That remained to be seen. - -I tie a thread to the end of one of the hind-legs and hang the larva up -in the peaceful atmosphere of a test-tube. My thread is a plumb-line -which will remain vertical, for there is nothing to interfere with it. -In this unwonted posture, which places its head at the bottom at a time -when the near approach of the transformation demands that it should be -at the top, the unfortunate creature for a long time kicks about and -struggles, striving to turn over and to seize with its fore-claws -either the thread by which it hangs or one of its own hind-legs. Some -of them succeed in their efforts, draw themselves up as best they can, -fasten themselves as they wish, despite the difficulty of keeping their -balance, and effect their metamorphosis without impediment. - -Others wear themselves out in vain. They do not catch hold of the -thread, they do not bring their heads upwards. Then the transformation -is not accomplished. Sometimes the dorsal rupture takes place, leaving -bare the mesothorax swollen into a hernia, but the shelling proceeds no -farther and the insect soon dies. More often still the larva perishes -intact, without the least fissure. - -Another experiment. I place the larva in a glass jar with a thin bed of -sand, which makes progress possible. The animal moves along, but is not -able to hoist itself up anywhere: the slippery sides of the glass -prevent this. Under these conditions, the captive expires without -trying to transform itself. I have known exceptions to this miserable -ending; I have sometimes seen the larva undergo a regular metamorphosis -on a layer of sand thanks to peculiarities of equilibrium which were -very difficult to distinguish. In the main, when the normal attitude or -something very near it is impossible, metamorphosis does not take place -and the insect succumbs. That is the general rule. - -This result seems to tell us that the larva is capable of opposing the -forces which are at work in it when the transformation is at hand. A -cabbage-silique, a pea-pod invariably burst to set free their seeds. -The Cicada-larva, a sort of pod containing, by way of seed, the perfect -insect, is able to control its dehiscence, to defer it until a more -opportune moment and even to suppress it altogether in unfavourable -circumstances. Convulsed by the profound revolution that takes place in -its body on the point of transfiguration, but at the same time warned -by instinct that the conditions are not good, the insect makes a -desperate resistance and dies rather than consent to open. - -Apart from the trials to which my curiosity subjects it, I do not see -that the Cicada-larva is exposed to any danger of perishing in this -way. There is always a bit of brushwood of some kind near the -exit-hole. The newly-exhumed insect climbs on it; and a few minutes are -enough for the animal pod to split down the back. This swift hatching -has often been a source of trouble to me in my studies. A larva appears -on the hills not far from my house. I catch sight of it just as it is -fastening on the twig. It would form an interesting subject of -observation indoors. I place it in a paper bag, together with the stick -that carries it, and hurry home. This takes me a quarter of an hour, -but it is labour lost: by the time that I arrive, the green Cicada is -almost free. I shall not see what I was bent on seeing. I had to -abandon this method of obtaining information and be content with an -occasional lucky find within a few yards of my door. - -“Everything is in everything,” as Jacotot the pedagogue [12] used to -say. In connection with that remarkably quick metamorphosis a culinary -question arises. According to Aristotle, Cicadæ were a -highly-appreciated dish among the Greeks. I am not acquainted with the -great naturalist’s text: humble villager that I am, my library -possesses no such treasure. I happen, however, to have before me a -venerable tome which can tell me just what I want to know. I refer to -Matthiolus’ Commentaries on Dioscorides. [13] As an eminent scholar, -who must have known his Aristotle very well, Matthiolus inspires me -with complete confidence. Now he says: - - - “Mirum non est quod dixerit Aristoteles, cicadas esse gustu - suavissimas antequam tettigometræ rumpatur cortex.” - - -Knowing that tettigometra, or mother of the Cicada, is the expression -used by the ancients to denote the larva, we see that, according to -Aristotle, the Cicadæ possess a flavour most delicious to the taste -before the bark or outer covering of the matrix bursts. - -This detail of the unbroken covering tells us at what season the -toothsome dainty should be picked. It cannot be in winter, when the -earth is dug deep by the plough, for at that time there is no danger of -the larva’s hatching. People do not recommend an utterly superfluous -precaution. It is therefore in summer, at the period of the emergence -from underground, when a good search will discover the larvæ, one by -one, on the surface of the soil. This is the real moment to take care -that the wrapper is unbroken. It is the moment also to hasten the -gathering and the preparations for cooking: in a very few minutes the -wrapper will burst. - -Are the ancient culinary reputation and that appetizing epithet, -suavissimas gustu, well-deserved? We have an excellent opportunity: let -us profit by it and restore to honour, if the occasion warrant it, the -dish extolled by Aristotle. Rondelet, [14] Rabelais’ erudite friend, -gloried in having rediscovered garum, the famous sauce made from the -entrails of rotten fish. Would it not be a meritorious work to give the -epicures their tettigometræ again? - -On a morning in July, when the sun is up and has invited the Cicadæ to -leave the ground, the whole household, big and little, go out -searching. There are five of us engaged in exploring the enclosure, -especially the edges of paths, which yield the best results. To prevent -the skin from bursting, as each larva is found I dip it into a glass of -water. Asphyxia will stay the work of metamorphosis. After two hours of -careful seeking, when every forehead is streaming with perspiration, I -am the owner of four larvæ, no more. They are dead or dying in their -preserving bath; but this does not matter, since they are destined for -the frying-pan. - -The method of cooking is of the simplest, so as to alter as little as -possible the flavour reputed to be so exquisite: a few drops of oil, a -pinch of salt, a little onion and that is all. There is no conciser -recipe in the whole of La Cuisinière bourgeoise. At dinner, the fry is -divided fairly among all of us hunters. - -The stuff is unanimously admitted to be eatable. True, we are people -blessed with good appetites and wholly unprejudiced stomachs. There is -even a slightly shrimpy flavour which would be found in a still more -pronounced form in a brochette of Locusts. It is, however, as tough as -the devil and anything but succulent; we really feel as if we were -chewing bits of parchment. I will not recommend to anybody the dish -extolled by Aristotle. - -Certainly, the renowned animal-historian was remarkably well-informed -as a rule. His royal pupil sent on his behalf to India, the land at -that time so full of mystery, for the curiosities most impressive to -Macedonian eyes; he received by caravan the Elephant, the Panther, the -Tiger, the Rhinoceros, the Peacock; and he described them faithfully. -But, in Macedonia itself, he knew the insect only through the peasant, -that stubborn tiller of the soil, who found the tettigometra under his -spade and was the first to know that a Cicada comes out of it. -Aristotle, therefore, in his immense undertaking, was doing more or -less what Pliny was to do later, with a much greater amount of artless -credulity. He listened to the chit-chat of the country-side and set it -down as veracious history. - -Rustic waggery is world-famous. The countryman is always ready to jeer -at the trifles which we call science; he laughs at whoso stops to -examine an insignificant insect; he goes into fits of laughter if he -sees us picking up a pebble, looking at it and putting it in our -pocket. The Greek peasant excelled in this sort of thing. He told the -townsman that the tettigometra was a dish fit for the gods, of an -incomparable flavour, suavissima gustu. But, while making his victim’s -mouth water with hyperbolical praises, he put it out of his power to -satisfy his longings, by laying down the essential condition that he -must gather the delicious morsel before the shell had burst. - -I should like to see any one try to get together the material for a -sufficiently copious dish by gathering a few handfuls of tettigometræ -just coming out of the earth, when my squad of five took two hours to -find four larvæ on ground rich in Cicadæ. Above all, mind that the skin -does not break during your search, which will last for days and days, -whereas the bursting takes place in a few minutes. My opinion is that -Aristotle never tasted a fry of tettigometræ; and my own culinary -experience is my witness. He is repeating some rustic jest in all good -faith. His heavenly dish is too horrible for words. - -Oh, what a fine collection of stories I too could make about the -Cicada, if I listened to all that my neighbours the peasants tell me! I -will give one particular of his history and one alone, as related in -the country. - -Have you any renal infirmity? Are you dropsical at all? Do you need a -powerful depurative? The village pharmacopœia is unanimous in -suggesting the Cicada as a sovran remedy. The insects are collected in -summer, in their adult form. They are strung together and dried in the -sun and are fondly preserved in a corner of the press. A housewife -would think herself lacking in prudence if she allowed July to pass -without threading her store of them. - -Do you suffer from irritation of the kidneys, or perhaps from -stricture? Quick, have some Cicada-tea! Nothing, they tell me, is so -efficacious. I am duly grateful to the good soul who once, as I have -since heard, made me drink a concoction of the sort, without my knowing -it, for some trouble or other; but I remain profoundly incredulous. I -am struck, however, by the fact that the same specific was recommended -long ago by Dioscorides. The old Cilician doctor tells us: - - - “Cicadæ, quæ inassatæ manduntur, vesicæ doloribus prosunt.” [15] - - -Ever since the far-off days of this patriarch of materia medica, the -Provençal peasant has retained his faith in the remedy revealed to him -by the Greeks who brought the olive, the fig-tree and the vine from -Phocæa. One thing alone is changed: Dioscorides advises us to eat our -Cicadæ roasted; nowadays they are boiled and taken as an infusion. - -The explanation given of the insect’s diuretic properties is -wonderfully ingenuous. The Cicada, as all of us here know, shoots a -sudden spray of urine, as it flies away, in the face of any one who -tries to take hold of it. He is therefore bound to hand on his powers -of evacuation to us. Thus must Dioscorides and his contemporaries have -argued; and thus does the peasant of Provence argue to this day. - -O my worthy friends, what would you say if you knew the virtues of the -tettigometra, which is capable of mixing mortar with its urine to build -a meteorological station withal! You would be driven to borrow the -hyperbole of Rabelais, who shows us Gargantua seated on the towers of -Notre-Dame and drowning with the deluge from his mighty bladder so many -thousand Paris loafers, not to mention the women and children! - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE CICADA: HIS MUSIC - - -By his own confession, Réaumur never heard the Cicada sing; he never -saw the insect alive. It reached him from the country round Avignon -preserved in spirits and a goodly supply of sugar. These conditions -were enough to enable the anatomist to give an exact description of the -organ of sound; nor did the master fail to do so: his penetrating eye -clearly discerned the construction of the strange musical-box, so much -so that his treatise upon it has become the fountain-head for any one -who wants to say a few words about the Cicada’s song. - -With him the harvest was gathered; it but remains to glean a few ears -which the disciple hopes to make into a sheaf. I have more than enough -of what Réaumur lacked: I hear rather more of these deafening -symphonists than I could wish; and so I shall perhaps obtain a little -fresh light on a subject that seems exhausted. Let us therefore go back -to the question of the Cicada’s song, repeating only so much of the -data acquired as may be necessary to make my explanation clear. - -In my neighbourhood I can capture five species of Cicadæ, namely, -Cicada plebeia, Lin.; C. orni, Lin.; C. hematodes, Lin.; C. atra, -Oliv.; and C. pygmæa, Oliv. The first two are extremely common; the -three others are rarities, almost unknown to the country-folk. - -The Common Cicada is the biggest of the five, the most popular and the -one whose musical apparatus is usually described. Under the male’s -chest, immediately behind the hind-legs, are two large semicircular -plates, overlapping each other slightly, the right plate being on the -top of the left. These are the shutters, the lids, the dampers, in -short the opercula of the organ of sound. Lift them up. You then see -opening, on either side, a roomy cavity, known in Provence by the name -of the chapel (li capello). The two together form the church (la -glèiso). They are bounded in front by a soft, thin, creamy-yellow -membrane; at the back by a dry pellicle, iridescent as a soap-bubble -and called the mirror (mirau) in the Provençal tongue. - -The church, the mirrors and the lids are commonly regarded as the -sound-producing organs. Of a singer short of breath it is said that he -has cracked his mirrors (a li mirau creba). Picturesque language says -the same thing of an uninspired poet. Acoustics give the lie to the -popular belief. You can break the mirrors, remove the lids with a cut -of the scissors, tear the yellow front membrane and these mutilations -will not do away with the Cicada’s song: they simply modify it, weaken -it slightly. The chapels are resonators. They do not produce sound, -they increase it by the vibrations of their front and back membranes; -they change it as their shutters are opened more or less wide. - -The real organ of sound is seated elsewhere and is not easy to find, -for a novice. On the other side of each chapel, at the ridge joining -the belly to the back, is a slit bounded by horny walls and masked by -the lowered lid. Let us call it the window. This opening leads to a -cavity or sound-chamber deeper than the adjacent chapel, but much less -wide. Immediately behind the attachment of the rear wings is a slight, -almost oval protuberance, which is distinguished by its dull-black -colour from the silvery down of the surrounding skin. This protuberance -is the outer wall of the sound-chamber. - -Let us make a large cut in it. We now lay bare the sound-producing -apparatus, the cymbal. This is a little dry, white membrane, -oval-shaped, convex on the outside, crossed from end to end of its -longer diameter by a bundle of three or four brown nervures, which give -it elasticity, and fixed all round in a stiff frame. Imagine this -bulging scale to be pulled out of shape from within, flattening -slightly and then quickly recovering its original convexity owing to -the spring of its nervures. The drawing in and blowing out will produce -a clicking sound. - -Twenty years ago, all Paris went mad over a silly toy called the -Cricket, or Cri-cri, if I remember rightly. It consisted of a short -blade of steel, fastened at one end to a metallic base. Alternately -pressed out of shape with the thumb and then released, the said blade, -though possessing no other merit, gave out a very irritating click; and -nothing more was needed to make it popular. The Cricket’s vogue is -over. Oblivion has done justice to it so drastically that I doubt if I -shall be understood when I recall the once famous apparatus. - -The membranous cymbal and steel Cricket are similar instruments. Both -are made to rattle by pushing an elastic blade out of shape and -restoring it to its original condition. The Cricket was bent out of -shape with the thumb. How is the convexity of the cymbals modified? Let -us go back to the church and break the yellow curtain that marks the -boundary of each chapel in front. Two thick muscular columns come in -sight, of a pale orange colour, joined together in the form of a V, -with its point standing on the insect’s median line, on the lower -surface. Each of these fleshy columns ends abruptly at the top, as -though lopped off; and from the truncated stump rises a short, slender -cord which is fastened to the side of the corresponding cymbal. - -There you have the whole mechanism, which is no less simple than that -of the metal Cricket. The two muscular columns contract and relax, -shorten and lengthen. By means of the terminal thread each tugs at its -cymbal, pulling it down and forthwith letting it spring back of itself. -Thus are the two sound-plates made to vibrate. - -Would you convince yourself of the efficacy of this mechanism? Would -you make a dead but still fresh Cicada sing? Nothing could be simpler. -Seize one of the muscular columns with the pincers and jerk it gently. -The dead Cri-cri comes to life again; each jerk produces the clash of -the cymbal. The sound is very feeble, I admit, deprived of the fulness -which the living virtuoso obtains with the aid of his sound-chambers; -nevertheless the fundamental element of the song is produced by this -anatomical trick. - -Would you on the other hand silence a live Cicada, that obstinate -melomaniac who, when you hold him prisoner in your fingers, bewails his -sad lot as garrulously as, just now, he sang his joys in the tree? It -is no use to break open his chapels, to crack his mirrors: the shameful -mutilation would not check him. But insert a pin through the side slit -which we have called the window and touch the cymbal at the bottom of -the sound-chamber. A tiny prick; and the perforated cymbal is silent. A -similar operation on the other side renders the insect mute, though it -remains as vigorous as before, showing no perceptible wound. Any one -unacquainted with the method of procedure stands amazed at the result -of my pin-prick, when the utter destruction of the mirrors and the -other accessories of the church does not produce silence. A tiny and in -no way serious stab has an effect which is not caused even by -evisceration. - -The lids, those firmly fitted plates, are stationary. It is the abdomen -itself which, by rising and falling, causes the church to open and -shut. When the abdomen is lowered, the lids cover the chapels exactly, -together with the windows of the sound-chambers. The sound is then -weakened, muffled, stifled. When the abdomen rises, the chapels open, -the windows are unobstructed and the sound acquires its full strength. -The rapid oscillations of the belly, therefore, synchronizing with the -contractions of the motor-muscles of the cymbals, determine the varying -volume of the sound, which seems to come from hurried strokes of a bow. - -When the weather is calm and warm, about the middle of the day, the -Cicada’s song is divided into strophes of a few seconds’ duration, -separated by short pauses. The strophe begins abruptly. In a rapid -crescendo, the abdomen oscillating faster and faster, it acquires its -maximum volume; it keeps up the same degree of strength for a few -seconds and then becomes gradually weaker and degenerates into a -tremolo which decreases as the belly relapses into rest. With the last -pulsations of the abdomen comes silence, which lasts for a longer or -shorter time according to the condition of the atmosphere. Then -suddenly we hear a new strophe, a monotonous repetition of the first; -and so on indefinitely. - -It often happens, especially during the sultry evening hours, that the -insect, drunk with sunshine, shortens and even entirely suppresses the -pauses. The song is then continuous, but always with alternations of -crescendo and decrescendo. The first strokes of the bow are given at -about seven or eight o’clock in the morning; and the orchestra ceases -only with the dying gleams of the twilight, at about eight o’clock in -the evening. Altogether the concert lasts the whole round of the clock. -But, if the sky be overcast, if the wind blow cold, the Cicada is dumb. - -The second species is only half the size of the Common Cicada and is -known in the district by the name of the Cacan, a fairly accurate -imitation of his peculiar rattle. This is the Ash Cicada of the -naturalists; and he is far more alert and more suspicious than the -first. His harsh loud song consists of a series of Can! Can! Can! Can! -with not a pause to divide the ode into strophes. Its monotony and its -harsh shrillness make it a most unpleasant ditty, especially when the -orchestra is composed of some hundreds of executants, as happens in my -two plane-trees during the dog-days. At such times it is as though a -heap of dry walnuts were being shaken in a bag until the shells -cracked. This irritating concert, a veritable torment, has only one -slight advantage about it: the Ash Cicada does not start quite so early -in the morning as the Common Cicada and does not sit up so late at -night. - -Although constructed on the same fundamental principles, the vocal -apparatus displays numerous peculiarities which give the song its -special character. The sound-chamber is entirely lacking, which means -that there is no entrance-window either. The cymbal is uncovered, just -behind the insertion of the hind-wing. It again is a dry, white scale, -convex on the outside and crossed by a bundle of five red-brown -nervures. - -The first segment of the abdomen thrusts forward a short, wide tongue, -which is quite rigid and of which the free end rests on the cymbal. -This tongue may be compared with the blade of a rattle which, instead -of fitting into the teeth of a revolving wheel, touches the nervures of -the vibrating cymbal more or less closely. The harsh, grating sound -must, I think, be partly due to this. It is hardly possible to verify -the fact when holding the creature in our fingers: the startled Cacan -does anything at such times rather than emit his normal song. - -The lids do not overlap; on the contrary, they are separated by a -rather wide interval. With the rigid tongues, those appendages of the -abdomen, they shelter one half of the cymbals, the other half of which -is quite bare. The abdomen, when pressed with the finger, does not open -to any great extent where it joins the thorax. For the rest, the insect -keeps still when it sings; it knows nothing of the rapid quivering of -the belly that modulates the song of the Common Cicada. The chapels are -very small and almost negligible as sounding-boards. There are mirrors, -it is true, but insignificant ones, measuring scarcely a twenty-fifth -of an inch. In short, the mechanism of sound, which is so highly -developed in the Common Cicada, is very rudimentary here. How then does -the thin clash of the cymbals manage to gain in volume until it becomes -intolerable? - -The Ash Cicada is a ventriloquist. If we examine the abdomen by holding -it up to the light, we see that the front two thirds are translucent. -Let us snip off the opaque third part that retains, reduced to the -strictly indispensable, the organs essential to the propagation of the -species and the preservation of the individual. The rest of the belly -is wide open and presents a spacious cavity, with nothing but its -tegumentary walls, except in the case of the dorsal surface, which is -lined with a thin layer of muscle and serves as a support to the -slender digestive tube, which is little more than a thread. The large -receptacle, forming nearly half of the insect’s total bulk, is -therefore empty, or nearly so. At the back are seen the two motor -pillars of the cymbals, the two muscular columns arranged in a V. To -the right and left of the point of this V gleam the two tiny mirrors; -and the empty space is continued between the two branches into the -depths of the thorax. - -This hollow belly and its thoracic complement form an enormous -resonator, unapproached by that of any other performer in our district. -If I close with my finger the orifice in the abdomen which I have just -clipped, the sound becomes lower, in conformity with the laws affecting -organ-pipes; if I fit a cylinder, a screw of paper, to the mouth of the -open belly, the sound becomes louder as well as deeper. With a paper -funnel properly adjusted, its wide end thrust into the mouth of a -test-tube acting as a sounding-board, we have no longer the shrilling -of the Cicada but something very near the bellowing of a Bull. My small -children, happening to be there at the moment when I am making my -acoustic experiments, run away scared. The familiar insect inspires -them with terror. - -The harshness of the sound appears to be due to the tongue of the -rattle rasping the nervures of the vibrating cymbals; its intensity may -no doubt be ascribed to the spacious sounding-board of the belly. -Assuredly one must be passionately enamoured of song thus to empty -one’s belly and chest in order to make room for a musical-box. The -essential vital organs are reduced to the minimum, are confined to a -tiny corner, so as to leave a greater space for the sounding-cavity. -Song comes first; all the rest takes second place. - -It is a good thing that the Ash Cicada does not follow the teaching of -the evolutionists. If, becoming more enthusiastic from generation to -generation, he were able by progressive stages to acquire a ventral -sounding-board fit to compare with that which my paper screws give him, -my Provence, peopled as it is with Cacans, would one day become -uninhabitable. - -After the details which I have already given concerning the Common -Cicada, it seems hardly necessary to say how the insupportable -chatterbox of the Ash is rendered dumb. The cymbals are clearly visible -on the outside. You prick them with the point of a needle. Complete -silence follows instantly. Why are there not in my plane-trees, among -the dagger-wearing insects, auxiliaries who, like myself, love quiet -and who would devote themselves to that task! A mad wish! A note would -then be lacking in the majestic harvest symphony. - -The Red Cicada (C. hematodes) is a little smaller than the Common -Cicada. He owes his name to the blood-red colour that takes the place -of the other’s brown on the veins of the wings and some other -lineaments of the body. He is rare. I come upon him occasionally in the -hawthorn-bushes. As regards his musical apparatus, he stands half-way -between the Common Cicada and the Ash Cicada. He has the former’s -oscillation of the belly, which increases or reduces the strength of -the sound by opening or closing the church; he possesses the latter’s -exposed cymbals, unaccompanied by any sound-chamber or window. - -The cymbals therefore are bare, immediately after the attachment of the -hind-wings. They are white, fairly regular in their convexity and boast -eight long, parallel nervures of a ruddy brown and seven others which -are much shorter and which are inserted singly in the intervals between -the first. The lids are small and scolloped at their inner edge so as -to cover only half of the corresponding chapel. The opening left by the -hollow in the lid has as a shutter a little pallet fixed to the base of -the hind-leg, which, by folding itself against the body or lifting -slightly, keeps the aperture either shut or open. The other Cicadæ have -each a similar appendage, but in their case it is narrower and more -pointed. - -Moreover, as with the Common Cicada, the belly moves freely up and -down. This heaving movement, combined with the play of the femoral -pallets, opens and closes the chapels to varying extents. - -The mirrors, though not so large as the Common Cicada’s, have the same -appearance. The membrane that faces them on the thorax side is white, -oval and very delicate and is tight-stretched when the abdomen is -raised and flabby and wrinkled when the abdomen is lowered. In its -tense state it seems capable of vibration and of increasing the sound. - -The song, modulated and subdivided into strophes, suggests that of the -Common Cicada, but is much less objectionable. Its lack of shrillness -may well be due to the absence of any sound-chambers. Other things -being equal, cymbals vibrating uncovered cannot possess the same -intensity of sound as those vibrating at the far end of an echoing -vestibule. The noisy Ash Cicada also, it is true, lacks that vestibule; -but he amply makes up for its absence by the enormous resonator of his -belly. - -I have never seen the third Cicada, sketched by Réaumur and described -by Olivier [16] under the name of C. tomentosa. The species is known in -Provence, so this and that one tells me, by the name of the Cigalon, or -rather Cigaloun, the Little Cigale or Cicada. This designation is -unknown in my neighbourhood. - -I possess two other specimens which Réaumur probably confused with the -one of which he gives us a drawing. One is the Black Cicada (C. atra, -Oliv.), whom I came across only once; the other is the Pigmy Cicada (C. -pygmæa, Oliv.), whom I have picked up pretty often. I will say a few -words about this last one. - -He is the smallest member of the genus in my district, the size of an -average Gad-fly, and measures about three-quarters of an inch in -length. His cymbals are transparent, with three opaque veins, are -scarcely sheltered by a fold in the skin and are in full view, without -any sort of entrance-lobby or sound-chamber. I may remark, in -terminating our survey, that the entrance-lobby exists only in the -Common Cicada; all the others are without it. - -The dampers are separated by a wide interval and allow the chapels to -open wide. The mirrors are comparatively large. Their shape suggests -the outline of a kidney-bean. The abdomen does not heave when the -insect sings; it remains stationary, like the Ash Cicada’s. Hence a -lack of variety in the melody of both. - -The Pigmy Cicada’s song is a monotonous rattle, pitched in a shrill -key, but faint and hardly perceptible a few steps away in the calm of -our enervating July afternoons. If ever a fancy seized him to forsake -his sun-scorched bushes and to come and settle down in force in my cool -plane-trees—and I wish that he would, for I should much like to study -him more closely—this pretty little Cicada would not disturb my -solitude as the frenzied Cacan does. - -We have now ploughed our way through the descriptive part; we know the -instrument of sound so far as its structure is concerned. In -conclusion, let us ask ourselves the object of these musical orgies. -What is the use of all this noise? One reply is bound to come: it is -the call of the males summoning their mates; it is the lovers’ cantata. - -I will allow myself to discuss this answer, which is certainly a very -natural one. For fifteen years the Common Cicada and his shrill -associate, the Cacan, have thrust their society upon me. Every summer -for two months I have them before my eyes, I have them in my ears. -Though I may not listen to them gladly, I observe them with a certain -zeal. I see them ranged in rows on the smooth bark of the plane-trees, -all with their heads upwards, both sexes interspersed with a few inches -between them. - -With their suckers driven into the tree, they drink, motionless. As the -sun turns and moves the shadow, they also turn around the branch with -slow lateral steps and make for the best-lighted and hottest surface. -Whether they be working their suckers or moving their quarters, they -never cease singing. - -Are we to take the endless cantilena for a passionate call? I am not -sure. In the assembly the two sexes are side by side; and you do not -spend months on end in calling to some one who is at your elbow. Then -again, I never see a female come rushing into the midst of the very -noisiest orchestra. Sight is enough as a prelude to marriage here, for -it is excellent; the wooer has no use for an everlasting declaration: -the wooed is his next-door neighbour. - -Could it be a means then of charming, of touching the indifferent one? -I still have my doubts. I notice no signs of satisfaction in the -females; I do not see them give the least flutter nor sway from side to -side, though the lovers clash their cymbals never so loudly. - -My neighbours the peasants say that, at harvest-time, the Cicada sings, -“Sego, sego, sego! Reap, reap, reap!” to encourage them to work. -Whether harvesters of wheat or harvesters of thought, we follow the -same occupation, one for the bread of the stomach, the other for the -bread of the mind. I can understand their explanation, therefore; and I -accept it as an instance of charming simplicity. - -Science asks for something better; but she finds in the insect a world -that is closed to us. There is no possibility of divining or even -suspecting the impression produced by the clash of the cymbals upon -those who inspire it. All that I can say is that their impassive -exterior seems to denote complete indifference. Let us not insist too -much: the private feelings of animals are an unfathomable mystery. - -Another reason for doubt is this: those who are sensitive to music -always have delicate hearing; and this hearing, a watchful sentinel, -should give warning of any danger at the least sound. The birds, those -skilled songsters, have an exquisitely fine sense of hearing. Should a -leaf stir in the branches, should two wayfarers exchange a word, they -will be suddenly silent, anxious, on their guard. How far the Cicada is -from such sensibility! - -He has very clear sight. His large faceted eyes inform him of what -happens on the right and what happens on the left; his three stemmata, -like little ruby telescopes, explore the expanse above his head. The -moment he sees us coming, he is silent and flies away. But place -yourself behind the branch on which he is singing, arrange so that you -are not within reach of the five visual organs; and then talk, whistle, -clap your hands, knock two stones together. For much less than this, a -bird, though it would not see you, would interrupt its singing and fly -away terrified. The imperturbable Cicada goes on rattling as though -nothing were afoot. - -Of my experiments in this matter, I will mention only one, the most -memorable. I borrow the municipal artillery, that is to say, the -mortars which are made to thunder forth on the feast of the -patron-saint. The gunner is delighted to load them for the benefit of -the Cicadæ and to come and fire them off at my place. There are two of -them, crammed as though for the most solemn rejoicings. No politician -making the circuit of his constituency in search of re-election was -ever honoured with so much powder. We are careful to leave the windows -open, to save the panes from breaking. The two thundering engines are -set at the foot of the plane-trees in front of my door. No precautions -are taken to mask them: the Cicadæ singing in the branches overhead -cannot see what is happening below. - -We are an audience of six. We wait for a moment of comparative quiet. -The number of singers is checked by each of us, as are the depth and -rhythm of the song. We are now ready, with ears pricked up to hear what -will happen in the aerial orchestra. The mortar is let off, with a -noise like a genuine thunder-clap. - -There is no excitement whatever up above. The number of executants is -the same, the rhythm is the same, the volume of sound the same. The six -witnesses are unanimous: the mighty explosion has in no way affected -the song of the Cicadæ. And the second mortar gives an exactly similar -result. - -What conclusion are we to draw from this persistence of the orchestra, -which is not at all surprised or put out by the firing of a gun? Am I -to infer from it that the Cicada is deaf? I will certainly not venture -so far as that; but, if any one else, more daring than I, were to make -the assertion, I should really not know what arguments to employ in -contradicting him. I should be obliged at least to concede that the -Cicada is extremely hard of hearing and that we may apply to him the -familiar saying, to bawl like a deaf man. - -When the Blue-winged Locust takes his luxurious fill of sunshine on a -gravelly path and with his great hind-shanks rubs the rough edge of his -wing-cases; when the Green Tree-frog, suffering from as chronic a cold -as the Cacan, swells his throat among the leaves and distends it into a -resounding bladder at the approach of a storm, are they both calling to -their absent mates? By no means. The bow-strokes of the first produce -hardly a perceptible stridulation; the throaty exuberance of the second -is no more effective: the object of their desire does not come. - -Does the insect need these sonorous outbursts, these loquacious -avowals, to declare its flame? Consult the vast majority, whom the -meeting of the two sexes leaves silent. I see in the Grasshopper’s -fiddle, the Tree-frog’s bagpipes and the cymbals of the Cacan but so -many methods of expressing the joy of living, the universal joy which -every animal species celebrates after its kind. - -If any one were to tell me that the Cicadæ strum on their noisy -instruments without giving a thought to the sound produced and for the -sheer pleasure of feeling themselves alive, just as we rub our hands in -a moment of satisfaction, I should not be greatly shocked. That there -may be also a secondary object in their concert, an object in which the -dumb sex is interested, is quite possible, quite natural, though this -has not yet been proved. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE CICADA: THE LAYING AND THE HATCHING OF THE EGGS - - -The Common Cicada entrusts her eggs to small dry branches. All those -which Réaumur examined and found to be thus tenanted were derived from -the mulberry-tree: a proof that the person commissioned to collect -these eggs in the Avignon district was very conservative in his methods -of search. In addition to the mulberry-tree, I, on the other hand, find -them on the peach, the cherry, the willow, the Japanese privet and -other trees. But these are exceptions. The Cicada really favours -something different. She wants, as far as possible, tiny stalks, which -may be anything from the thickness of a straw to that of a lead-pencil, -with a thin ring of wood and plenty of pith. So long as these -conditions are fulfilled, the actual plant matters little. I should -have to draw up a list of all the semiligneous flora of the district -were I to try and catalogue the different supports used by the Cicada -when laying her eggs. I shall content myself with naming a few of them -in a note, to show the variety of sites of which she avails herself. -[17] - -The sprig occupied is never lying on the ground; it is in a position -more or less akin to the perpendicular, most often in its natural -place, sometimes detached, but in that case sticking upright by -accident. Preference is given to a good long stretch of smooth, even -stalk, capable of accommodating the entire laying. My best harvests are -made on the sprigs of Spartium junceum, which are like straws crammed -with pith, and especially on the tall stalks of Asphodelus cerasiferus, -which rise for nearly three feet before spreading into branches. - -The rule is for the support, no matter what it is, to be dead and quite -dry. Nevertheless my notes record a few instances of eggs confided to -stalks that are still alive, with green leaves and flowers in bloom. It -is true that, in these highly exceptional cases, the stalk itself is of -a pretty dry variety. [18] - -The work performed by the Cicada consists of a series of pricks such as -might be made with a pin if it were driven downwards on a slant and -made to tear the ligneous fibres and force them up slightly. Any one -seeing these dots without knowing what produced them would think first -of some cryptogamous vegetation, some Sphæriacea swelling and bursting -its skin under the growth of its half-emerging perithecia. - -If the stalk be uneven, or if several Cicadæ have been working one -after the other at the same spot, the distribution of the punctures -becomes confused and the eye is apt to wander among them, unable to -perceive either the order in which they were made or the work of each -individual. One characteristic is never missing, that is the slanting -direction of the woody strip ploughed up, which shows that the Cicada -always works in an upright position and drives her implement downwards -into the twig, in a longitudinal direction. - -If the stalk be smooth and even and also of a suitable length, the -punctures are nearly equidistant and are not far from being in a -straight line. Their number varies: it is small when the mother is -disturbed in her operation and goes off to continue her laying -elsewhere; it amounts to thirty or forty when the line of dots -represents the total amount of eggs laid. The actual length of the row -for the same number of thrusts likewise varies. A few examples will -enlighten us in this respect: a row of thirty measures 28 centimetres -[19] on the toad-flax, 30 [20] on the gum-succory and only 12 [21] on -the asphodel. - -Do not imagine that these variations in length have to do with the -nature of the support: there are plenty of instances that prove the -contrary; and the asphodel, which in one case shows us the punctures -that are closest together, will in other cases show us those which are -farthest removed. The distance between the dots depends on -circumstances which cannot be explained, but especially on the caprice -of the mother, who concentrates her laying more at one spot and less at -another according to her fancy. I have found the average measurement -between one hole and the next to be 8 to 10 millimetres. [22] - -Each of these abrasions is the entrance to a slanting cell, usually -bored in the pithy portion of the stalk. This entrance is not closed, -save by the bunch of ligneous fibres which are parted at the time of -the laying but which come together again when the double saw of the -ovipositor is withdrawn. At most, in certain cases, but not always, you -see gleaming through the threads of this barricade a tiny glistening -speck, looking like a glaze of dried albumen. This can be only an -insignificant trace of some albuminous secretion which accompanies the -eggs or else facilitates the play of the double boring-file. - -Just under the prick lies the cell, a very narrow passage which -occupies almost the entire distance between its pin-hole and that of -the preceding cell. Sometimes even there is no partition separating the -two; the upper floor runs into the lower; and the eggs, though inserted -through several entrances, are arranged in an uninterrupted row. -Usually, however, the cells are distinct. - -Their contents vary greatly. I count from six to fifteen eggs in each. -The average is ten. As the number of cells of a complete laying is -between thirty and forty, we see that the Cicada disposes of three to -four hundred eggs. Réaumur arrived at the same figures from his -examination of the ovaries. - -A fine family truly, capable by sheer numbers of coping with very grave -risks of destruction. Yet I do not see that the adult Cicada is in -greater danger than any other insect: he has a vigilant eye, can get -started quickly, is a rapid flyer and inhabits heights at which the -cut-throats of the meadows are not to be feared. The Sparrow, it is -true, is very fond of him. From time to time, after careful strategy, -the enemy swoops upon the plane-trees from the neighbouring roof and -grabs the frenzied fiddler. A few pecks distributed right and left cut -him up into quarters, which form delicious morsels for the nestlings. -But how often does not the bird return with an empty bag! The wary -Cicada sees the attack coming, empties his bladder into his assailant’s -eyes and decamps. - -No, it is not the Sparrow that makes it necessary for the Cicada to -give birth to so numerous a progeny. The danger lies elsewhere. We -shall see how terrible it can be at hatching- and also at laying-time. - -Two or three weeks after the emergence from the ground, that is to say, -about the middle of July, the Cicada busies herself with her eggs. In -order to witness the laying without trusting too much to luck, I had -taken certain precautions which seemed to me to assure success. The -insect’s favourite support is the dry asphodel: I had learnt that from -earlier observations. This plant is also the one that lends itself best -to my plans, owing to its long, smooth stalk. Now, during the first -years of my residence here, I replaced the thistles in my enclosure by -other native plants, of a less forbidding character. The asphodel is -among the new occupants and is just what I want to-day. I therefore -leave last year’s dry stalks where they are; and, when the proper -season comes, I inspect them daily. - -I have not long to wait. As early as the 15th of July, I find as many -Cicadæ as I could wish installed on the asphodels, busily laying. The -mother is always alone. Each has a stalk to herself, without fear of -any competition that might disturb the delicate process of inoculation. -When the first occupant is gone, another may come, followed by others -yet. There is ample room for all; but each in succession wishes to be -alone. For the rest, there is no quarrelling among them; things happen -most peacefully. If some mother appears and finds the place already -taken, she flies away so soon as she discovers her mistake and looks -around elsewhere. - -The Cicada, when laying, always carries her head upwards, an attitude -which, for that matter, she adopts in other circumstances. She lets you -examine her quite closely, even under the magnifying-glass, so greatly -absorbed is she in her task. The ovipositor, which is about two-fifths -of an inch long, is buried in the stalk, slantwise. So perfect is the -tool that the boring does not seem to call for very laborious -operations. I see the mother give a jerk or two and dilate and contract -the tip of her abdomen with frequent palpitations. That is all. The -drill with its double gimlets working alternately digs and disappears -into the wood, with a gentle and almost imperceptible movement. Nothing -particular happens during the laying. The insect is motionless. Ten -minutes or so elapse between the first bite of the tool and the -complete filling of the cell. - -The ovipositor is then withdrawn with deliberate slowness, so as not to -warp it. The boring-hole closes of itself, as the ligneous fibres come -together again, and the insect climbs a little higher, about as far as -the length of its instrument, in a straight line. Here we see a new -punch of the gimlet and a new chamber receiving its half-a-score of -eggs. In this fashion the laying works its way up from bottom to top. - -Once we know these facts, we are in a position to understand the -remarkable arrangement controlling the work. The punctures, the -entrances to the cells, are almost equidistant, because each time the -Cicada ascends about the same height, roughly the length of her -ovipositor. Very rapid in flight, she is a very lazy walker. All that -you ever see her do on the live branch on which she drinks is to move -to a sunnier spot close by, with a grave and almost solemn step. On the -dead branch where the eggs are laid she retains her leisurely habits, -even exaggerating them, in view of the importance of the operation. She -moves as little as need be, shifting her place only just enough to -avoid letting two adjoining cells encroach upon each other. The measure -of the upward movement is provided approximately by the length of the -bore. - -Also the holes are arranged in a straight line when their number is not -great. Why indeed should the laying mother veer to the left or right on -a stalk which has the same qualities all over? Loving the sun, she has -selected the side of the stalk that is most exposed to it. So long as -she feels on her back a douche of heat, her supreme joy, she will take -good care not to leave the situation which she considers so delightful -for another upon which the sun’s rays do not fall so directly. - -But the laying takes a long time when it is all performed on the same -support. Allowing ten minutes to a cell, the series of forty which I -have sometimes seen represents a period of six to seven hours. The sun -therefore can alter its position considerably before the Cicada has -finished her work. In that case the rectilinear direction becomes bent -into a spiral curve. The mother turns around her stalk as the sun -itself turns; and her row of pricks suggests the course of the gnomon’s -shadow on a cylindrical sundial. - -Very often, while the Cicada is absorbed in her work of motherhood, an -infinitesimal Gnat, herself the bearer of a boring-tool, labours to -exterminate the eggs as fast as they are placed. Réaumur knew her. In -nearly every bit of stick that he examined he found her grub, which -caused him to make a mistake at the beginning of his researches. But he -did not see, he could not see the impudent ravager at work. It is a -Chalcidid some four to five millimetres [23] in length, all black, with -knotty antennæ, thickening a little towards their tips. The unsheathed -boring-tool is planted in the under part of the abdomen, near the -middle, and sticks out at right angles to the body, as in the case of -the Leucospes, [24] the scourge of certain members of the Bee-tribe. -Having neglected to capture the insect, I do not know what name the -nomenclators have bestowed upon it, if indeed the dwarf that -exterminates Cicadæ has been catalogued at all. - -What I do know something about is its calm temerity, its brazen -audacity in the immediate presence of the colossus who could crush it -by simply stepping on it. I have seen as many as three exploiting the -unhappy mother at the same time. They keep close behind each other, -either working their probes or awaiting the propitious moment. - -The Cicada has just stocked a cell and is climbing a little higher to -bore the next. One of the brigands runs to the abandoned spot; and -here, almost under the claws of the giantess, without the least fear, -as though she were at home and accomplishing a meritorious act, she -unsheathes her probe and inserts it into the column of eggs, not -through the hole already made, which bristles with broken fibres, but -through some lateral crevice. The tool works slowly, because of the -resistance of the wood, which is almost intact. The Cicada has time to -stock the next floor above. - -As soon as she has finished, a Gnat standing immediately behind her, -waiting to perform her task, takes her place and comes and introduces -her own exterminating germ. By the time that the mother has exhausted -her ovaries and flies away, most of her cells have, in this fashion, -received the alien egg which will be the ruin of their contents. A -small, quick-hatching grub, one only to each chamber, generously fed on -a round dozen raw eggs, will take the place of the Cicada’s family. - -O deplorable mother, have centuries of experience taught you nothing? -Surely, with those excellent eyes of yours, you cannot fail to see the -terrible sappers, when they flutter around you, preparing their felon -stroke! You see them, you know that they are at your heels; and you -remain impassive and let yourself be victimized. Turn round, you -easy-going colossus, and crush the pigmies! But you will do nothing of -the sort: you are incapable of altering your instincts, even to lighten -your share of maternal sorrow. - -The Common Cicada’s eggs are of a gleaming ivory-white. Elongated in -shape and conical at both ends, they might be compared with miniature -weavers’-shuttles. They are two millimetres and a half long by half a -millimetre wide. [25] They are arranged in a row, slightly overlapping. -The Ash Cicada’s, which are a trifle smaller, are packed in regular -parcels mimicking microscopic bundles of cigars. We will devote our -attention exclusively to the first; their story will tell us that of -the others. - -September is not over before the gleaming ivory-white gives place to -straw-colour. In the early days of October there appear, in the front -part, two little dark-brown spots, round and clearly-defined, which are -the ocular specks of the tiny creature in course of formation. These -two shining eyes, which almost look at you, combined with the -cone-shaped fore-end, give the eggs an appearance of finless fishes, -the very tiniest of fishes, for which a walnut-shell would make a -suitable bowl. - -About the same period, I often see on my asphodels and those on the -hills around indications of a recent hatching. These indications take -the form of certain discarded clothes, certain rags left on the -threshold by the new-born grubs moving their quarters and eager to -reach a new lodging. We shall learn in an instant what these cast skins -mean. - -Nevertheless, in spite of my visits, which were assiduous enough to -deserve a better result, I have never succeeded in seeing the young -Cicadæ come out of their cells. My home breeding prospers no better. -For two years running, at the right time, I collect in boxes, tubes and -jars a hundred twigs of all sorts colonized with Cicada-eggs; not one -of them shows me what I am so anxious to see, the emergence of the -budding Cicadæ. - -Réaumur experienced the same disappointment. He tells us how all the -eggs sent by his friends proved failures, even when he carried them in -a glass tube in his fob to give them a mild temperature. O my revered -master, neither the warm shelter of our studies nor the niggardly -heating-apparatus of our breeches is enough in this case! What is -needed is that supreme stimulant, the kisses of the sun; what is -needed, after the morning coolness, which already is sharp enough to -make us shiver, is the sudden glow of a glorious autumn day, summer’s -last farewell. - -It was in such circumstances as these, when a bright sun supplied a -violent contrast to a cold night, that I used to find signs of -hatching; but I always came too late: the young Cicadæ were gone. At -most I sometimes happened to find one hanging by a thread from his -native stalk and struggling in mid-air. I thought him caught in some -shred of cobweb. - -At last, on the 27th of October, despairing of success, I gathered the -asphodels in the enclosure and, taking the armful of dry stalks on -which the Cicada had laid, carried it up to my study. Before abandoning -all hope, I proposed once more to examine the cells and their contents. -It was a cold morning. The first fire of the season had been lit. I put -my little bundle on a chair in front the hearth, without any intention -of trying the effect of the hot flames upon the nests. The sticks which -I meant to split open one by one were within easier reach of my hand -there. That was the only consideration which made me choose that -particular spot. - -Well, while I was passing my magnifying-glass over a split stem, the -hatching which I no longer hoped to see suddenly took place beside me. -My bundle became alive; the young larvæ emerged from their cells by the -dozen. Their number was so great that my professional instincts were -amply satisfied. The eggs were exactly ripe; and the blaze on the -hearth, bright and penetrating, produced the same effect as sunlight -out of doors. I lost no time in profiting by this unexpected stroke of -luck. - -At the aperture of the egg-chamber, among the torn fibres, a tiny -cone-shaped body appears, with two large black eye-spots. To look at, -it is absolutely the fore-part of the egg, which, as I have said, -resembles the front of a very minute fish. One would think that the egg -had changed its position, climbing from the bottom of the basin to the -orifice of the little passage. But an egg to move! A germ to start -walking! Such a thing was impossible, had never been known; I must be -suffering from an illusion. I split open the stalk; and the mystery is -revealed. The real eggs, though a little disarranged, have not changed -their position. They are empty, reduced to transparent bags, torn -considerably at their fore-ends. From them has issued the very singular -organism whose salient characteristics I will now set forth. - -In its general shape, the configuration of the head and the large black -eyes, the creature, even more than the egg, presents the appearance of -an extremely small fish. A mock ventral fin accentuates the likeness. -This sort of oar comes from the fore-legs, which, cased in a special -sheath, lie backwards, stretched against each other in a straight line. -Its feeble power of movement must help the grub to come out of the -egg-shell and—a more difficult matter—out of the fibrous passage. -Withdrawing a little way from the body and then returning, this lever -provides a purchase for progression by means of the terminal claws, -which are already well-developed. The four other legs are still wrapped -in the common envelope and are absolutely inert. This applies also to -the antennæ, which can hardly be perceived through the lens. -Altogether, the organism newly issued from the egg is an exceedingly -small, boat-shaped body, with a single oar pointing backwards on the -ventral surface and formed of the two fore-legs joined together. The -segmentation is very clearly marked, especially on the abdomen. Lastly, -the whole thing is quite smooth, with not a hair on it. - -What name shall I give to this initial state of the Cicada, a state so -strange and unforeseen and hitherto unsuspected? Must I knock Greek -words together and fashion some uncouth expression? I shall do nothing -of the sort, convinced as I am that barbarous terms are only a cumbrous -impediment to science. I shall simply call it “the primary larva,” as I -did in the case of the Oil-beetles, the Leucospes and the Anthrax. [26] - -The form of the primary larva in the Cicadæ is eminently well-suited -for the emergence. The passage in which the egg is hatched is very -narrow and leaves just room for one to go out. Besides, the eggs are -arranged in a row, not end to end, but partly overlapping. The creature -coming from the farther ranks has to make its way through the remains -of the eggs already hatched in front of it. To the narrowness of the -corridor is added the block caused by the empty shells. - -In these conditions, the larva in the form which it will have -presently, when it has torn its temporary scabbard, would not be able -to clear the difficult pass. Irksome antennæ, long legs spreading far -from the axis of the body, picks with curved and pointed ends that -catch on the road: all these are in the way of a speedy deliverance. -The eggs in one cell hatch almost simultaneously. It is necessary that -the new-born grubs in front should move out as fast as they can and -make room for those behind. This necessitates the smooth, boatlike -form, devoid of all projections, which makes its way insinuatingly, -like a wedge. The primary larva, with its different appendages closely -fixed to its body inside a common sheath, with its boat shape and its -single oar possessing a certain power of movement, has its part to -play: its business is to emerge into daylight through a difficult -passage. - -Its task is soon done. Here comes one of the emigrants, showing its -head with the great eyes and lifting the broken fibres of the aperture. -It works its way farther and farther out, with a progressive movement -so slow that the lens does not easily perceive it. In half an hour at -soonest, the boat-shaped object appears entirely; but it is still -caught by its hinder end in the exit-hole. - -The emergence-jacket splits without further delay; and the creature -sheds its skin from front to back. It is now the normal larva, the only -one that Réaumur knew. The cast slough forms a suspensory thread, -expanding into a little cup at its free end. In this cup is contained -the tip of the abdomen of the larva, which, before dropping to the -ground, treats itself to a sun-bath, hardens itself, kicks about and -tries its strength, swinging indolently at the end of its life-line. - -This “little Flea,” as Réaumur calls it, first white, then amber, is at -all points the larva that will dig into the ground. The antennæ, of -fair length, are free and wave about; the legs work their joints; those -in front open and shut their claws, which are the strongest part of -them. I know hardly any more curious sight than that of this miniature -gymnast hanging by its hinder-part, swinging at the least breath of -wind and making ready in the air for its somersault into the world. The -period of suspension varies. Some larvæ let themselves drop in half an -hour or so; others remain for hours in their long-stemmed cup; and some -even wait until the next day. - -Whether quick or slow, the creature’s fall leaves the cord, the slough -of the primary larva, swinging. When the whole brood has disappeared, -the orifice of the cell is thus hung with a cluster of short, fine -threads, twisted and rumpled, like dried white of egg. Each opens into -a little cup at its free end. They are very delicate and ephemeral -relics, which you cannot touch without destroying them. The slightest -wind soon blows them away. - -Let us return to the larva. Sooner or later, without losing much time, -it drops to the ground, either by accident or of its own accord. The -infinitesimal creature, no bigger than a Flea, has saved its tender, -budding flesh from the rough earth by swinging on its cord. It has -hardened itself in the air, that luxurious eiderdown. It now plunges -into the stern realities of life. - -I see a thousand dangers ahead of it. The merest breath of wind can -blow the atom here, on the impenetrable rock, or there, on the ocean of -a rut where a little water stagnates, or elsewhere, on the sand, the -starvation region where nothing grows, or again on a clay soil, too -tough for digging. These fatal expanses are frequent; and so are the -gusts that blow one away in this windy season which has already set in -unpleasantly by the end of October. - -The feeble creature needs very soft soil, easily entered, so as to -obtain shelter immediately. The cold days are drawing nigh; the frosts -are coming. To wander about on the surface of the ground for any length -of time would expose us to grave dangers. We had better descend into -the earth without delay; and that to a good depth. This one imperative -condition of safety is in many cases impossible to realize. What can -little Flea’s-claws do against rock, flint or hardened clay? The tiny -creature must perish unless it can find an underground refuge in time. - -The first establishment, which is exposed to so many evil chances, is, -so everything shows us, a cause of great mortality in the Cicada’s -family. Already the little black parasite, the destroyer of the eggs, -has told us how expedient it is for the mothers to accomplish a long -and fertile laying; the difficulties attendant upon the initial -installation in their turn explain why the maintenance of the race at -its suitable strength requires three or four hundred eggs to be laid by -each of them. Subject to excessive spoliation, the Cicada is fertile to -excess. She averts by the richness of her ovaries the multitude of -dangers threatening her. - -In the experiment which it remains for me to make, I will at least -spare the larva the difficulties of the first installation. I select -some very soft, very black heath-mould and pass it through a fine -sieve. Its dark colour will enable me more easily to find the little -yellow creature when I want to see what is happening; and its softness -will suit the feeble mattock. I heap it not too tightly in a glass pot; -I plant a little tuft of thyme in it; I sow a few grains of wheat. -There is no hole at the bottom of the pot, though there ought to be, if -the thyme and the wheat are to thrive; the captives, however, finding -the hole, would be certain to escape through it. The plantation will -suffer from this lack of drainage; but at least I am certain of finding -my animals with the aid of my magnifying-glass and plenty of patience. -Besides, I shall indulge in no excesses in the matter of irrigation, -supplying only enough water to prevent the plants from dying. - -When everything is ready and the corn is beginning to put forth its -first shoots, I place six young Cicada-larvæ on the surface of the -soil. The puny grubs run about and explore the earthy bed pretty -nimbly; some make unsuccessful attempts to climb the side of the pot. -Not one seems inclined to bury itself, so much so that I anxiously -wonder what the object can be of these active and prolonged -investigations. Two hours pass and the restless roaming never ceases. - -What is it that they want? Food? I offer them some little bulbs with -bundles of sprouting roots, a few bits of leaves and some fresh blades -of grass. Nothing tempts them nor induces them to stand still. They -appear to be selecting a favourable spot before descending underground. -These hesitating explorations are superfluous on the soil which I have -industriously prepared for them: the whole surface, so it seems to me, -lends itself capitally to the work which I expect to see them -accomplish. Apparently it is not enough. - -Under natural conditions, a preliminary run round may well be -indispensable. There, sites as soft as my bed of heath-mould, purged of -all hard bodies and finely sifted, are rare. There, on the other hand, -coarse soils, on which the microscopic mattock can make no impression, -are frequent. The grub has to roam at random, to walk about for some -time before finding a suitable place. No doubt many even die, exhausted -by their fruitless search. A journey of exploration, in a country a few -inches across, forms part, therefore, of the young Cicada’s curriculum. -In my glass jar, so sumptuously furnished, the pilgrimage is uncalled -for. No matter: it has to be performed according to the time-honoured -rites. - -My gadabouts at last grow calm. I see them attack the earth with the -hooked mattocks of their fore-feet, digging into it and making the sort -of excavation which the point of a thick needle would produce. Armed -with a magnifying-glass, I watch them wielding their pick-axes, watch -them raking an atom of earth to the surface. In a few minutes a well -has been scooped out. The little creature goes down it, buries itself -and is henceforth invisible. - -Next day I turn out the contents of the pot, without breaking the clod -held together by the roots of the thyme and the wheat. I find all my -larvæ at the bottom, stopped from going farther by the glass. In -twenty-four hours they have traversed the entire thickness of the layer -of earth, about four inches. They would have gone even lower but for -the obstacle at the bottom. - -On their way they probably came across my thyme- and wheat-roots. Did -they stop to take a little nourishment by driving in their suckers? It -is hardly probable. A few of these rootlets are trailing at the bottom -of the empty pot. Not one of my six prisoners is installed on them. -Perhaps in overturning the glass I have shaken them off. - -It is clear that underground there can be no other food for them than -the juice of the roots. Whether full-grown or in the larval stage, the -Cicada lives on vegetables. As an adult, he drinks the sap of the -branches; as a larva, he sucks the sap of the roots. But at what moment -is the first sip taken? This I do not yet know. What goes before seems -to tell us that the newly-hatched grub is in a greater hurry to reach -the depths of the soil, sheltered from the coming colds of winter, than -to loiter at the drinking-bars encountered on the way. - -I put back the clod of heath-mould and for the second time place the -six exhumed larvæ on the surface of the soil. Wells are dug without -delay. The grubs disappear down them. Finally I put the pot in my -study-window, where it will receive all the influences of the outer -air, good and bad alike. - -A month later, at the end of November, I make a second inspection. The -young Cicadæ are crouching, each by itself, at the bottom of the clod -of earth. They are not clinging to the roots; they have not altered in -appearance or in size. I find them now just as I saw them at the -beginning of the experiment, only a little less active. Does not this -absence of growth during the interval of November, the mildest month of -winter, seem to show that no nourishment is taken throughout the cold -season? - -The young Sitaris-beetles, [27] those other animated atoms, as soon as -they issue from the egg at the entrance to the Anthophora’s [28] -galleries, remain in motionless heaps and spend the winter in complete -abstinence. The little Cicadæ would appear to behave in much the same -manner. Once buried in depths where there is no fear of frosts, they -sleep, solitary, in their winter-quarters and await the return of -spring before broaching some root near by and taking their first -refreshment. - -I have tried, but without success, to confirm by actual observation the -inferences to be drawn from the above results. In the spring, in April, -for the third time I unpot my plantation. I break up the clod and -scrutinize it under the magnifying-glass. I feel as if I were looking -for a needle in a haystack. At last I find my little Cicadæ. They are -dead, perhaps of cold, notwithstanding the bell-glass with which I had -covered the pot; perhaps of starvation, if the thyme did not suit them. -The problem is too difficult to solve; I give it up. - -To succeed in this attempt at rearing one would need a very wide and -deep bed of earth, providing a shelter from the rigours of winter, and, -because I do not know which are the insect’s favourite roots, there -would also have to be a varied vegetation, in which the little larvæ -could choose according to their tastes. These conditions are quite -practicable; but how is one afterwards to find in that huge mass of -earth, measuring a cubic yard at least, the atom which I have so much -trouble in distinguishing in a handful of black mould? And, besides, -such conscientious digging would certainly detach the tiny creature -from the root that nourishes it. - -The underground life of the early Cicada remains a secret. That of the -well-developed larva is no better-known. When digging in the fields, if -you turn up the soil to any depth, you are constantly finding the -fierce little burrower under your spade; but to find it fastened to the -roots from whose sap it undoubtedly derives its nourishment is quite -another matter. The upheaval occasioned by the spade warns it of its -danger. It releases its sucker and retreats to some gallery; and, when -discovered, it is no longer drinking. - -If agricultural digging, with its inevitable disturbances, is unable to -tell us anything of the grub’s underground habits, it does at least -inform us how long the larval stage lasts. Some obliging husbandmen, -breaking up their land, in March, rather deeper than usual, were so -very good as to pick up for me all the larvæ, big and small, unearthed -by their labour. The harvest amounted to several hundreds. Marked -differences in bulk divided the total into three classes: the large -ones, with rudiments of wings similar to those possessed by the larvæ -leaving the ground, the medium-sized and the small. Each of these -classes must correspond with a different age. We will add to them the -larvæ of the last hatching, microscopic creatures that necessarily -escaped the eyes of my rustic collaborators; and we arrive at four -years as the probable duration of the underground life of the Cicadæ. - -Their existence in the air is more easily calculated. I hear the first -Cicadæ at the approach of the summer solstice. The orchestra attains -its full strength a month later. A few laggards, very few and very far -between, continue to execute their faint solos until the middle of -September. That is the end of the concert. As they do not all come out -of the ground at the same period, it is obvious that the singers of -September are not contemporary with those of June. If we strike an -average between these two extreme dates, we shall have about five -weeks. - -Four years of hard work underground and a month of revelry in the sun: -this then represents the Cicada’s life. Let us no longer blame the -adult for his delirious triumph. For four years, in the darkness, he -has worn a dirty parchment smock; for four years he has dug the earth -with his mattocks; and behold the mud-stained navvy suddenly attired in -exquisite raiment, possessed of wings that rival the bird’s, drunk with -the heat and inundated with light, the supreme joy of this world! What -cymbals could ever be loud enough to celebrate such felicity, so richly -earned and so ephemeral! - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE MANTIS: HER HUNTING - - -Another creature of the south, at least as interesting as the Cicada, -but much less famous, because it makes no noise. Had Heaven granted it -a pair of cymbals, the one thing needed, its renown would eclipse the -great musician’s, for it is most unusual in both shape and habits. Folk -hereabouts call it lou Prègo-Diéu, the animal that prays to God. Its -official name is the Praying Mantis (M. religiosa, Lin.). - -The language of science and the peasant’s artless vocabulary agree in -this case and represent the queer creature as a pythoness delivering -her oracles or an ascetic rapt in pious ecstasy. The comparison dates a -long way back. Even in the time of the Greeks the insect was called -Μάντις, the divine, the prophet. The tiller of the soil is not -particular about analogies: where points of resemblance are not too -clear, he will make up for their deficiencies. He saw on the -sun-scorched herbage an insect of imposing appearance, drawn up -majestically in a half-erect posture. He noticed its gossamer wings, -broad and green, trailing like long veils of finest lawn; he saw its -fore-legs, its arms so to speak, raised to the sky in a gesture of -invocation. That was enough; popular imagination did the rest; and -behold the bushes from ancient times stocked with Delphic priestesses, -with nuns in orison. - -Good people, with your childish simplicity, how great was your mistake! -Those sanctimonious airs are a mask for Satanic habits; those arms -folded in prayer are cut-throat weapons: they tell no beads, they slay -whatever passes within range. Forming an exception which one would -never have suspected in the herbivorous order of the Orthoptera, the -Mantis feeds exclusively on living prey. She is the tigress of the -peaceable entomological tribes, the ogress in ambush who levies a -tribute of fresh meat. Picture her with sufficient strength; and her -carnivorous appetites, combined with her traps of horrible perfection, -would make her the terror of the country-side. The Prègo-Diéu would -become a devilish vampire. - -Apart from her lethal implement, the Mantis has nothing to inspire -dread. She is not without a certain beauty, in fact, with her slender -figure, her elegant bust, her pale-green colouring and her long gauze -wings. No ferocious mandibles, opening like shears; on the contrary, a -dainty pointed muzzle that seems made for billing and cooing. Thanks to -a flexible neck, quite independent of the thorax, the head is able to -move freely, to turn to right or left, to bend, to lift itself. Alone -among insects, the Mantis directs her gaze; she inspects and examines; -she almost has a physiognomy. - -Great indeed is the contrast between the body as a whole, with its very -pacific aspect, and the murderous mechanism of the fore-legs, which are -correctly described as raptorial. The haunch is uncommonly long and -powerful. Its function is to throw forward the rat-trap, which does not -await its victim but goes in search of it. The snare is decked out with -some show of finery. The base of the haunch is adorned on the inner -surface with a pretty, black mark, having a white spot in the middle; -and a few rows of bead-like dots complete the ornamentation. - -The thigh, longer still, a sort of flattened spindle, carries on the -front half of its lower surface two rows of sharp spikes. In the inner -row there are a dozen, alternately black and green, the green being -shorter than the black. This alternation of unequal lengths increases -the number of cogs and improves the effectiveness of the weapon. The -outer row is simpler and has only four teeth. Lastly, three spurs, the -longest of all, stand out behind the two rows. In short, the thigh is a -saw with two parallel blades, separated by a groove in which the leg -lies when folded back. - -The leg, which moves very easily on its joint with the thigh, is -likewise a double-edged saw. The teeth are smaller, more numerous and -closer together than those on the thigh. It ends in a strong hook whose -point vies with the finest needle for sharpness, a hook fluted -underneath and having a double blade like a curved pruning-knife. - -This hook, a most perfect instrument for piercing and tearing, has left -me many a painful memory. How often, when Mantis-hunting, clawed by the -insect which I had just caught and not having both hands at liberty, -have I been obliged to ask somebody else to release me from my -tenacious captive! To try to free yourself by force, without first -disengaging the claws implanted in your flesh, would expose you to -scratches similar to those produced by the thorns of a rose-tree. None -of our insects is so troublesome to handle. The Mantis claws you with -her pruning-hooks, pricks you with her spikes, seizes you in her vice -and makes self-defence almost impossible if, wishing to keep your prize -alive, you refrain from giving the pinch of the thumb that would put an -end to the struggle by crushing the creature. - -When at rest, the trap is folded and pressed back against the chest and -looks quite harmless. There you have the insect praying. But, should a -victim pass, the attitude of prayer is dropped abruptly. Suddenly -unfolded, the three long sections of the machine throw to a distance -their terminal grapnel, which harpoons the prey and, in returning, -draws it back between the two saws. The vice closes with a movement -like that of the fore-arm and the upper arm; and all is over: Locusts, -Grasshoppers and others even more powerful, once caught in the -mechanism with its four rows of teeth, are irretrievably lost. Neither -their desperate fluttering nor their kicking will make the terrible -engine release its hold. - -An uninterrupted study of the Mantis’ habits is not practicable in the -open fields; we must rear her at home. There is no difficulty about -this: she does not mind being interned under glass, on condition that -she be well fed. Offer her choice viands, served up fresh daily, and -she will hardly feel her absence from the bushes. - -As cages for my captives I have some ten large wire-gauze dish-covers, -the same that are used to protect meat from the Flies. Each stands in a -pan filled with sand. A dry tuft of thyme and a flat stone on which the -laying may be done later constitute all the furniture. These huts are -placed in a row on the large table in my insect laboratory, where the -sun shines on them for the best part of the day. I instal my captives -in them, some singly, some in groups. - -It is in the second fortnight of August that I begin to come upon the -adult Mantis in the withered grass and on the brambles by the -road-side. The females, already notably corpulent, are more frequent -from day to day. Their slender companions, on the other hand, are -rather scarce; and I sometimes have a good deal of difficulty in making -up my couples, for there is an appalling consumption of these dwarfs in -the cages. Let us keep these atrocities for later and speak first of -the females. - -They are great eaters, whose maintenance, when it has to last for some -months, is none too easy. The provisions, which are nibbled at -disdainfully and nearly all wasted, have to be renewed almost every -day. I trust that the Mantis is more economical on her native bushes. -When game is not plentiful, no doubt she devours every atom of her -catch; in my cages she is extravagant, often dropping and abandoning -the rich morsel after a few mouthfuls, without deriving any further -benefit from it. This appears to be her particular method of beguiling -the tedium of captivity. - -To cope with these extravagant ways I have to employ assistants. Two or -three small local idlers, bribed by the promise of a slice of melon or -bread-and-butter, go morning and evening to the grass-plots in the -neighbourhood and fill their game-bags—cases made of reed-stumps—with -live Locusts and Grasshoppers. I on my side, net in hand, make a daily -circuit of my enclosure, in the hope of obtaining some choice morsel -for my boarders. - -These tit-bits are intended to show me to what lengths the Mantis’ -strength and daring can go. They include the big Grey Locust -(Pachytylus cinerescens, Fab.), who is larger than the insect that will -consume him; the White-faced Decticus, armed with a vigorous pair of -mandibles whereof our fingers would do well to fight shy; the quaint -Tryxalis, who wears a pyramid-shaped mitre on her head; the Vine -Ephippiger, [29] who clashes cymbals and sports a sword at the bottom -of her pot-belly. To this assortment of game that is not any too easy -to tackle, let us add two monsters, two of the largest Spiders of the -district: the Silky Epeira, whose flat, festooned abdomen is the size -of a franc piece; and the Cross Spider, or Diadem Epeira, [30] who is -hideously hairy and obese. - -I cannot doubt that the Mantis attacks such adversaries in the open, -when I see her, under my covers, boldly giving battle to whatever comes -in sight. Lying in wait among the bushes, she must profit by the fat -prizes offered by chance even as, in the wire cage, she profits by the -treasures due to my generosity. Those big hunts, full of danger, are no -new thing; they form part of her normal existence. Nevertheless they -appear to be rare, for want of opportunity, perhaps to the Mantis’ deep -regret. - -Locusts of all kinds, Butterflies, Dragon-flies, large Flies, Bees and -other moderate-sized captures are what we usually find in the lethal -limbs. Still the fact remains that, in my cages, the daring huntress -recoils before nothing. Sooner or later, Grey Locust and Decticus, -Epeira and Tryxalis are harpooned, held tight between the saws and -crunched with gusto. The facts are worth describing. - -At the sight of the Grey Locust who has heedlessly approached along the -trelliswork of the cover, the Mantis gives a convulsive shiver and -suddenly adopts a terrifying posture. An electric shock would not -produce a more rapid effect. The transition is so abrupt, the attitude -so threatening that the observer beholding it for the first time at -once hesitates and draws back his fingers, apprehensive of some unknown -danger. Old hand as I am, I cannot even now help being startled, should -I happen to be thinking of something else. - -You see before you, most unexpectedly, a sort of bogey-man or -Jack-in-the-box. The wing-covers open and are turned back on either -side, slantingly; the wings spread to their full extent and stand erect -like parallel sails or like a huge heraldic crest towering over the -back; the tip of the abdomen curls upwards like a crosier, rises and -falls, relaxing with short jerks and a sort of sough, a “Whoof! Whoof!” -like that of a Turkey-cock spreading his tail. It reminds one of the -puffing of a startled Adder. - -Planted defiantly on its four hind-legs, the insect holds its long bust -almost upright. The murderous legs, originally folded and pressed -together upon the chest, open wide, forming a cross with the body and -revealing the arm-pits decorated with rows of beads and a black spot -with a white dot in the centre. These two faint imitations of the eyes -in a Peacock’s tail, together with the dainty ivory beads, are warlike -ornaments kept hidden at ordinary times. They are taken from the -jewel-case only at the moment when we have to make ourselves brave and -terrible for battle. - -Motionless in her strange posture, the Mantis watches the Locust, with -her eyes fixed in his direction and her head turning as on a pivot -whenever the other changes his place. The object of this attitudinizing -is evident: the Mantis wants to strike terror into her dangerous -quarry, to paralyze it with fright, for, unless demoralized by fear, it -would prove too formidable. - -Does she succeed in this? Under the shiny head of the Decticus, behind -the long face of the Locust, who can tell what passes? No sign of -excitement betrays itself to our eyes on those impassive masks. -Nevertheless it is certain that the threatened one is aware of the -danger. He sees standing before him a spectre, with uplifted claws, -ready to fall upon him; he feels that he is face to face with death; -and he fails to escape while there is yet time. He who excels in -leaping and could so easily hop out of reach of those talons, he, the -big-thighed jumper, remains stupidly where he is, or even draws nearer -with a leisurely step. - -They say that little birds, paralysed with terror before the open jaws -of the Snake, spell-bound by the reptile’s gaze, lose their power of -flight and allow themselves to be snapped up. The Locust often behaves -in much the same way. See him within reach of the enchantress. The two -grapnels fall, the claws strike, the double saws close and clutch. In -vain the poor wretch protests: he chews space with his mandibles and, -kicking desperately, strikes nothing but the air. His fate is sealed. -The Mantis furls her wings, her battle-standard; she resumes her normal -posture; and the meal begins. - -In attacking the Tryxalis and the Ephippiger, less dangerous game than -the Grey Locust and the Decticus, the spectral attitude is less -imposing and of shorter duration. Often the throw of the grapnels is -sufficient. This is likewise so in the case of the Epeira, who is -grasped round the body with not a thought of her poison-fangs. With the -smaller Locusts, the usual fare in my cages as in the open fields, the -Mantis seldom employs her intimidation-methods and contents herself -with seizing the reckless one that passes within her reach. - -When the prey to be captured is able to offer serious resistance, the -Mantis has at her service a pose that terrorizes and fascinates her -quarry and gives her claws a means of hitting with certainty. Her -rat-traps close on a demoralized victim incapable of defence. She -frightens her victim into immobility by suddenly striking a spectral -attitude. - -The wings play a great part in this fantastic pose. They are very wide, -green on the outer edge, colourless and transparent every elsewhere. -They are crossed lengthwise by numerous veins, which spread in the -shape of a fan. Other veins, transversal and finer, intersect the first -at right angles and with them form a multitude of meshes. In the -spectral attitude, the wings are displayed and stand upright in two -parallel planes that almost touch each other, like the wings of a -Butterfly at rest. Between them the curled tip of the abdomen moves -with sudden starts. The sort of breath which I have compared with the -puffing of an Adder in a posture of defence comes from this rubbing of -the abdomen against the nerves of the wings. To imitate the strange -sound, all that you need do is to pass your nail quickly over the upper -surface of an unfurled wing. - -Wings are essential to the male, a slender pigmy who has to wander from -thicket to thicket at mating-time. He has a well-developed pair, more -than sufficient for his flight, the greatest range of which hardly -amounts to four or five of our paces. The little fellow is exceedingly -sober in his appetites. On rare occasions, in my cages, I catch him -eating a lean Locust, an insignificant, perfectly harmless creature. -This means that he knows nothing of the spectral attitude, which is of -no use to an unambitious hunter of his kind. - -On the other hand, the advantage of the wings to the female is not very -obvious, for she is inordinately stout at the time when her eggs ripen. -She climbs, she runs; but, weighed down by her corpulence, she never -flies. Then what is the object of wings, of wings, too, which are -seldom matched for breadth? - -The question becomes more significant if we consider the Grey Mantis -(Ameles decolor), who is closely akin to the Praying Mantis. The male -is winged and is even pretty quick at flying. The female, who drags a -great belly full of eggs, reduces her wings to stumps and, like the -cheese-makers of Auvergne and Savoy, wears a short-tailed jacket. For -one who is not meant to leave the dry grass and the stones, this -abbreviated costume is more suitable than superfluous gauze furbelows. -The Grey Mantis is right to retain but a mere vestige of the cumbrous -sails. - -Is the other wrong to keep her wings, to exaggerate them, even though -she never flies? Not at all. The Praying Mantis hunts big game. -Sometimes a formidable prey appears in her hiding-place. A direct -attack might be fatal. The thing to do is first to intimidate the -new-comer, to conquer his resistance by terror. With this object she -suddenly unfurls her wings into a ghost’s winding-sheet. The huge sails -incapable of flight are hunting-implements. This stratagem is not -needed by the little Grey Mantis, who captures feeble prey, such as -Gnats and new-born Locusts. The two huntresses, who have similar habits -and, because of their stoutness, are neither of them able to fly, are -dressed to suit the difficulties of the ambuscade. The first, an -impetuous amazon, puffs her wings into a threatening standard; the -second, a modest fowler, reduces them to a pair of scanty coat-tails. - -In a fit of hunger, after a fast of some days’ duration, the Praying -Mantis will gobble up a Grey Locust whole, except for the wings, which -are too dry; and yet the victim of her voracity is as big as herself, -or even bigger. Two hours are enough for consuming this monstrous head -of game. An orgy of the sort is rare. I have witnessed it once or twice -and have always wondered how the gluttonous creature found room for so -much food and how it reversed in its favour the axiom that the cask -must be greater than its contents. I can but admire the lofty -privileges of a stomach through which matter merely passes, being at -once digested, dissolved and done away with. - -The usual bill of fare in my cages consists of Locusts of greatly -varied species and sizes. It is interesting to watch the Mantis -nibbling her Acridian, firmly held in the grip of her two murderous -fore-legs. Notwithstanding the fine, pointed muzzle, which seems -scarcely made for this gorging, the whole dish disappears, with the -exception of the wings, of which only the slightly fleshy base is -consumed. The legs, the tough skin, everything goes down. Sometimes the -Mantis seizes one of the big hinder thighs by the knuckle-end, lifts it -to her mouth, tastes it and crunches it with a little air of -satisfaction. The Locust’s fat and juicy thigh may well be a choice -morsel for her, even as a leg of mutton is for us. - -The prey is first attacked in the neck. While one of the two lethal -legs holds the victim transfixed through the middle of the body, the -other presses the head and makes the neck open upwards. The Mantis’ -muzzle roots and nibbles at this weak point in the armour with some -persistency. A large wound appears in the head. The Locust gradually -ceases kicking and becomes a lifeless corpse; and, from this moment, -freer in its movements, the carnivorous insect picks and chooses its -morsel. - -This preliminary gnawing of the neck is too regular an occurrence to be -purposeless. Let us indulge in a digression which will tell us more -about it. In June I often find on the lavender in the enclosure two -small Crab Spiders (Thomisus onustus, Walck., [31] and T. rotundatus, -Walck.). One is satin-white and has pink and green rings round her -legs; the other is inky-black and has an abdomen encircled with red -with a foliaceous central patch. They are pretty Spiders, both of them, -and they walk sideways, after the manner of Crabs. They do not know how -to weave a hunting-net; the little silk which they possess is reserved -exclusively for the downy satchel containing the eggs. Their plan of -campaign therefore is to lie in ambush on the flowers and to fling -themselves unexpectedly on the quarry when it arrives on pilfering -intent. - -Their favourite prey is the Hive-bee. I often come upon them with their -prize, at times grabbed by the neck and at others by any part of the -body, even the tip of a wing. In each and every case the Bee is dead, -with her legs hanging limply and her tongue out. - -The poison-fangs planted in the neck set me thinking; I see in them a -characteristic remarkably like the practice of the Mantis when starting -on her Locust. And then arises another question: how does the weak -Spider, who is vulnerable in every part of her soft body, manage to get -hold of a prey like the Bee, stronger than herself, quicker in movement -and armed with a sting that can inflict a mortal wound? - -The difference in physical strength and force of arms between assailant -and assailed is so very great that a contest of this kind seems -impossible unless some netting intervene, some silken toils that can -shackle and bind the formidable creature. The contrast would be no more -intense were the Sheep to take it into her head to fly at the Wolf’s -throat. And yet the daring attack takes place and victory goes to the -weaker, as is proved by the numbers of dead Bees whom I see sucked for -hours by the Thomisi. The relative weakness must be made good by some -special art; the Spider must possess a strategy that enables her to -surmount the apparently insurmountable difficulty. - -To watch events on the lavender-borders would expose me to long, -fruitless waits. It is better myself to make the preparations for the -duel. I place a Thomisus under a cover with a bunch of lavender -sprinkled with a few drops of honey. Some three or four live Bees -complete the establishment. - -The Bees pay no heed to their redoubtable neighbour. They flutter -around the trellised enclosure; from time to time they go and take a -sip from the honeyed flowers, sometimes quite close to the Spider, not -a quarter of an inch away. They seem utterly unaware of their danger. -The experience of centuries has taught them nothing about the terrible -cut-throat. The Thomisus, on her side, waits motionless on a spike of -lavender, near the honey. Her four front legs, which are longer than -the others, are spread out and slightly raised, in readiness for -attack. - -A Bee comes to drink at the drop of honey. This is the moment. The -Spider springs forward and with her fangs seizes the imprudent one by -the tip of the wings, while her legs hold the victim in a tight -embrace. A few seconds pass, during which the Bee struggles as best she -can against the aggressor on her back, out of the reach of her dagger. -This fight at close quarters cannot last long; the Bee would release -herself from the other’s grip. And so the Spider lets go the wing and -suddenly bites her prey in the back of the neck. Once the fangs drive -home, it is all over: death ensues. The Bee is slain. Of her turbulent -activity naught lingers but some faint quivers of the tarsi, final -convulsions which are soon at an end. - -Still holding her prey by the nape of the neck, the Thomisus feasts not -on the body, which remains intact, but on the blood, which is slowly -sucked. When the neck is drained dry, another spot is attacked, on the -abdomen, the thorax, anywhere. This explains why my observations in the -open air showed me the Thomisus with her fangs fixed now in the neck, -now in some other part of the Bee. In the first case, the capture was a -recent one and the murderess still retained her original posture; in -the second case, it had been made some time before; and the Spider had -forsaken the wound in the head, now sucked dry, to bite into some other -juicy part, no matter which. - -Thus shifting her fangs, a trifle this way or that, as she drains her -prey, the little ogress gorges on her victim’s blood with voluptuous -deliberation. I have seen the meal last for seven consecutive hours; -and even then the prey was let go only because of the shock given to -its devourer by my indiscreet examination. The abandoned corpse, a -carcass of no value to the Spider, is not dismembered in any way. There -is not a trace of bitten flesh, not a wound that shows. The Bee is -drained of her blood; and that is all. - -My friend Bull, when he was alive, used to catch an enemy whose teeth -threatened danger by the skin of the neck. His method is in general use -throughout the canine race. There, in front of you, is a growling pair -of jaws, open, white with foam, ready to bite. The most elementary -prudence advises you to keep them quiet by catching hold of the back of -the neck. - -In her fight with the Bee, the Spider has not the same object. What has -she to fear from her victim? The sting before all things, the terrible -dart whose least stab would destroy her. And yet she does not trouble -about it. What she makes for is the back of the neck, that alone and -never anything else, so long as the prey remains alive. In so doing she -does not aim at copying the tactics of the Dog and depriving the head, -which is not particularly dangerous, of its power of movement. Her plan -is farther-reaching and is revealed to us by the lightning death of the -Bee. The neck is no sooner gripped than the victim expires. The -cerebral centres therefore are injured, poisoned with a deadly virus; -and life is straightway extinguished at its very seat. This avoids a -struggle which, if prolonged, would certainly end in the aggressor’s -discomfiture. The Bee has her strength and her sting on her side; the -delicate Thomisus has on hers a profound knowledge of the art of -murder. - -Let us return to the Mantis, who likewise has mastered the first -principles of speedy and scientific killing, in which the little -Bee-slaughtering Spider excels. A sturdy Locust is captured; sometimes -a powerful Grasshopper. The Mantis naturally wants to devour the -victuals in peace, without being troubled by the plunges of a victim -who absolutely refuses to be devoured. A meal liable to interruptions -lacks savour. Now the principal means of defence in this case are the -hind-legs, those vigorous levers which can kick out so brutally and -which moreover are armed with toothed saws that would rip open the -Mantis’ bulky paunch if by ill-luck they happen to graze it. What shall -we do to reduce them to helplessness, together with the others, which -are not dangerous but troublesome all the same, with their desperate -gesticulations? - -Strictly speaking, it would be practicable to cut them off one by one. -But that is a long process and attended with a certain risk. The Mantis -has hit upon something better. She has an intimate knowledge of the -anatomy of the spine. By first attacking her prize at the back of the -half-opened neck and munching the cervical ganglia, she destroys the -muscular energy at its main seat; and inertia supervenes, not suddenly -and completely, for the clumsily-constructed Locust has not the Bee’s -exquisite and frail vitality, but still sufficiently, after the first -mouthfuls. Soon the kicking and the gesticulating die down, all -movement ceases and the game, however big it be, is consumed in perfect -quiet. - -Among the hunters, I have before now drawn a distinction between those -who paralyse and those who kill. [32] Both terrify one with their -anatomical knowledge. To-day let us add to the killers the Thomisus, -that expert in stabbing in the neck, and the Mantis, who, to devour a -powerful prey at her ease, deprives it of movement by first gnawing its -cervical ganglia. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE MANTIS: HER LOVE-MAKING - - -The little that we have seen of the Mantis’ habits hardly tallies with -what we might have expected from her popular name. To judge by the term -Prègo-Diéu, we should look to see a placid insect, deep in pious -contemplation; and we find ourselves in the presence of a cannibal, of -a ferocious spectre munching the brain of a panic-stricken victim. Nor -is even this the most tragic part. The Mantis has in store for us, in -her relations with her own kith and kin, manners even more atrocious -than those prevailing among the Spiders, who have an evil reputation in -this respect. - -To reduce the number of cages on my big table and give myself a little -more space while still retaining a fair-sized menagerie, I instal -several females, sometimes as many as a dozen, under one cover. So far -as accommodation is concerned, no fault can be found with the common -lodging. There is room and to spare for the evolutions of my captives, -who naturally do not want to move about much with their unwieldy -bellies. Hanging to the trelliswork of the dome, motionless they digest -their food or else await an unwary passer-by. Even so do they act when -at liberty in the thickets. - -Cohabitation has its dangers. I know that even Donkeys, those -peace-loving animals, quarrel when hay is scarce in the manger. My -boarders, who are less complaisant, might well, in a moment of dearth, -become sour-tempered and fight among themselves. I guard against this -by keeping the cages well supplied with Locusts, renewed twice a day. -Should civil war break out, famine cannot be pleaded as the excuse. - -At first, things go pretty well. The community lives in peace, each -Mantis grabbing and eating whatever comes near her, without seeking -strife with her neighbours. But this harmonious period does not last -long. The bellies swell, the eggs are ripening in the ovaries, marriage -and laying-time are at hand. Then a sort of jealous fury bursts out, -though there is an entire absence of males who might be held -responsible for feminine rivalry. The working of the ovaries seems to -pervert the flock, inspiring its members with a mania for devouring one -another. There are threats, personal encounters, cannibal feasts. Once -more the spectral pose appears, the hissing of the wings, the fearsome -gesture of the grapnels outstretched and uplifted in the air. No -hostile demonstration in front of a Grey Locust or White-faced Decticus -could be more menacing. - -For no reason that I can gather, two neighbours suddenly assume their -attitude of war. They turn their heads to right and left, provoking -each other, exchanging insulting glances. The “Puff! Puff!” of the -wings rubbed by the abdomen sounds the charge. When the duel is to be -limited to the first scratch received, without more serious -consequences, the lethal fore-arms, which are usually kept folded, open -like the leaves of a book and fall back sideways, encircling the long -bust. It is a superb pose, but less terrible than that adopted in a -fight to the death. - -Then one of the grapnels, with a sudden spring, shoots out to its full -length and strikes the rival; it is no less abruptly withdrawn and -resumes the defensive. The adversary hits back. The fencing is rather -like that of two Cats boxing each other’s ears. At the first blood -drawn from her flabby paunch, or even before receiving the least wound, -one of the duellists confesses herself beaten and retires. The other -furls her battle-standard and goes off elsewhither to meditate the -capture of a Locust, keeping apparently calm, but ever ready to repeat -the quarrel. - -Very often, events take a more tragic turn. At such times, the full -posture of the duels to the death is assumed. The murderous fore-arms -are unfolded and raised in the air. Woe to the vanquished! The other -seizes her in her vice and then and there proceeds to eat her, -beginning at the neck, of course. The loathsome feast takes place as -calmly as though it were a matter of crunching up a Grasshopper. The -diner enjoys her sister as she would a lawful dish; and those around do -not protest, being quite willing to do as much on the first occasion. - -Oh, what savagery! Why, even Wolves are said not to eat one another. -The Mantis has no such scruples; she banquets off her fellows when -there is plenty of her favourite game, the Locust, around her. She -practises the equivalent of cannibalism, that hideous peculiarity of -man. - -These aberrations, these child-bed cravings can reach an even more -revolting stage. Let us watch the pairing and, to avoid the disorder of -a crowd, let us isolate the couples under different covers. Each pair -shall have its own home, where none will come to disturb the wedding. -And let us not forget the provisions, with which we will keep them well -supplied, so that there may be no excuse of hunger. - -It is near the end of August. The male, that slender swain, thinks the -moment propitious. He makes eyes at his strapping companion; he turns -his head in her direction; he bends his neck and throws out his chest. -His little pointed face wears an almost impassioned expression. -Motionless, in this posture, for a long time he contemplates the object -of his desire. She does not stir, is as though indifferent. The lover, -however, has caught a sign of acquiescence, a sign of which I do not -know the secret. He goes nearer; suddenly he spreads his wings, which -quiver with a convulsive tremor. That is his declaration. He rushes, -small as he is, upon the back of his corpulent companion, clings on as -best he can, steadies his hold. As a rule, the preliminaries last a -long time. At last, coupling takes place and is also long drawn out, -lasting sometimes for five or six hours. - -Nothing worthy of attention happens between the two motionless -partners. They end by separating, but only to unite again in a more -intimate fashion. If the poor fellow is loved by his lady as the -vivifier of her ovaries, he is also loved as a piece of -highly-flavoured game. And, that same day, or at latest on the morrow, -he is seized by his spouse, who first gnaws his neck, in accordance -with precedent, and then eats him deliberately, by little mouthfuls, -leaving only the wings. Here we have no longer a case of jealousy in -the harem, but simply a depraved appetite. - -I was curious to know what sort of reception a second male might expect -from a recently fertilized female. The result of my enquiry was -shocking. The Mantis, in many cases, is never sated with conjugal -raptures and banquets. After a rest that varies in length, whether the -eggs be laid or not, a second male is accepted and then devoured like -the first. A third succeeds him, performs his function in life, is -eaten and disappears. A fourth undergoes a like fate. In the course of -two weeks I thus see one and the same Mantis use up seven males. She -takes them all to her bosom and makes them all pay for the nuptial -ecstasy with their lives. - -Orgies such as this are frequent, in varying degrees, though there are -exceptions. On very hot days, highly charged with electricity, they are -almost the general rule. At such times the Mantes are in a very -irritable mood. In the cages containing a large colony, the females -devour one another more than ever; in the cages containing separate -pairs, the males, after coupling, are more than ever treated as an -ordinary prey. - -I should like to be able to say, in mitigation of these conjugal -atrocities, that the Mantis does not behave like this in a state of -liberty; that the male, after doing his duty, has time to get out of -the way, to make off, to escape from his terrible mistress, for in my -cages he is given a respite, lasting sometimes until next day. What -really occurs in the thickets I do not know, chance, a poor resource, -having never instructed me concerning the love-affairs of the Mantis -when at large. I can only go by what happens in the cages, where the -captives, enjoying plenty of sunshine and food and spacious quarters, -do not seem to suffer from homesickness in any way. What they do here -they must also do under normal conditions. - -Well, what happens there utterly refutes the idea that the males are -given time to escape. I find, by themselves, a horrible couple engaged -as follows. The male, absorbed in the performance of his vital -functions, holds the female in a tight embrace. But the wretch has no -head; he has no neck; he has hardly a body. The other, with her muzzle -turned over her shoulder continues very placidly to gnaw what remains -of the gentle swain. And, all the time, that masculine stump, holding -on firmly, goes on with the business! - -Love is stronger than death, men say. Taken literally, the aphorism has -never received a more brilliant confirmation. A headless creature, an -insect amputated down to the middle of the chest, a very corpse -persists in endeavouring to give life. It will not let go until the -abdomen, the seat of the procreative organs, is attacked. - -Eating the lover after consummation of marriage, making a meal of the -exhausted dwarf, henceforth good for nothing, can be understood, to -some extent, in the insect world, which has no great scruples in -matters of sentiment; but gobbling him up during the act goes beyond -the wildest dreams of the most horrible imagination. I have seen it -done with my own eyes and have not yet recovered from my astonishment. - -Was this one able to escape and get out of the way, caught as he was in -the midst of his duty? Certainly not. Hence we must infer that the -loves of the Mantis are tragic, quite as much as the Spider’s and -perhaps even more so. I admit that the restricted space inside the -cages favours the slaughter of the males; but the cause of these -massacres lies elsewhere. - -Perhaps it is a relic of the palæozoic ages, when, in the carboniferous -period, the insect came into being as the result of monstrous amours. -The Orthoptera, to whom the Mantes belong, are the first-born of the -entomological world. Rough-hewn, incomplete in their transformation, -they roamed among the arborescent ferns and were already flourishing -when none of the insects with delicate metamorphoses, Butterflies, -Moths, Beetles, Flies and Bees, as yet existed. Manners were not gentle -in those days of passion eager to destroy in order to produce; and the -Mantes, a faint memory of the ghosts of old, might well continue the -amorous methods of a bygone age. - -The habit of eating the males is customary among other members of the -Mantis family. I am indeed prepared to admit that it is general. The -little Grey Mantis, who looks so sweet and so peaceable in my cages, -never seeking a quarrel with her neighbours however crowded they may -be, bites into her male and feeds on him as fiercely as the Praying -Mantis herself. I wear myself out, scouring the country to procure the -indispensable complement to my gynæceum. No sooner is my -powerfully-winged and nimble prize introduced than, most often, he is -clawed and eaten up by one of those who no longer need his aid. Once -the ovaries are satisfied, the Mantes of both species abhor the male, -or rather look upon him as nothing better than a choice piece of -venison. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE MANTIS: HER NEST - - -Let us show the insect of the tragic amours under a more attractive -aspect. Its nest is a marvel. In scientific language it is called -ootheca, the egg-case. I shall not overwork this outlandish term. We do -not say, “the Chaffinch’s egg-case,” when we mean, “the Chaffinch’s -nest:” why should I be obliged to talk about a case when I speak of the -Mantis? It may sound more learned; but that is not my business. - -The nest of the Praying Mantis is found more or less everywhere in -sunny places, on stones, wood, vine-stocks, twigs, dry grass and even -on products of human industry, such as bits of brick, strips of coarse -linen or the hard, shrivelled leather of an old boot. Any support -serves, without distinction, so long as there is an uneven surface to -which the bottom of the nest can be fixed, thus securing a solid -foundation. - -The usual dimensions are four centimetres in length and two in width. -[33] The colour is as golden as a grain of wheat. When set alight, the -material burns readily and exhales a faint smell of singed silk. The -substance is in fact akin to silk; only, instead of being drawn into -thread, it has curdled into a frothy mass. When the nest is fixed to a -branch, the base goes round the nearest twigs, envelops them and -assumes a shape which varies in accordance with the support -encountered; when it is fixed to a flat surface, the under side, which -is always moulded on the support, is itself flat. The nest thereupon -takes the form of a semi-ellipsoid, more or less blunt at one end, -tapering at the other and often ending in a short, curved tail. - -Whatever the support, the upper surface of the nest is systematically -convex. We can distinguish in it three well-marked longitudinal zones. -The middle one, which is narrower than the others, is composed of -little plates or scales arranged in pairs and overlapping like the -tiles of a roof. The edges of these plates are free, leaving two -parallel rows of slits or fissures through which the young emerge at -hatching-time. In a recently-abandoned nest, this middle zone is furry -with gossamer skins, discarded by the larvæ. These cast skins flutter -at the least breath and soon vanish when exposed to rough weather. I -will call it the exit-zone, because it is only along this median belt -that the liberation of the young takes place, thanks to the outlets -contrived beforehand. - -In every other part the cradle of the numerous family presents an -impenetrable wall. The two side zones, in fact, which occupy the -greater part of the semi-ellipsoid, have perfect continuity of surface. -The little Mantes, so feeble at the start, could never make their way -out through so tough a substance. All that we see on it is a number of -fine, transversal furrows, marking the various layers of which the mass -of eggs consists. - -Cut the nest across. It will now be perceived that the eggs, taken -together, form an elongated kernel, very hard and firm and coated on -the sides with a thick, porous rind, like solidified foam. Above are -curved plates, set very closely and almost independent of one another; -their edges end in the exit-zone, where they form a double row of -small, imbricated scales. - -The eggs are buried in a yellow matrix of horny appearance. They are -placed in layers, shaped like segments of a circle, with the ends -containing the heads converging towards the exit-zone. This arrangement -tells us how the deliverance is accomplished. The new-born larvæ will -slip into the space left between two adjoining plates, a prolongation -of the kernel, where they will find a narrow passage, difficult to go -through, but just sufficient when we bear in mind the curious provision -of which we shall speak presently; and by so doing they will reach the -middle belt. Here, under the imbricated scales, two outlets open for -each layer of eggs. Half of the larvæ undergoing their liberation will -emerge through the right door, half through the left. And this is -repeated for each layer from end to end of the nest. - -To sum up these structural details, which are rather difficult to grasp -for any one who has not the thing in front of him: lying along the axis -of the nest and shaped like a date-stone is the cluster of eggs, -grouped in layers. A protecting rind, a sort of solidified foam, -surrounds this cluster, except at the top along the median line, where -the frothy rind is replaced by thin plates set side by side. The free -ends of these plates form the exit-zone outside; they are imbricated in -two series of scales and leave a couple of outlets, narrow clefts, for -each layer of eggs. - -The most striking part of my researches was being present at the -construction of the nest and seeing how the Mantis goes to work to -produce so complex a building. I managed it with some difficulty, for -the laying takes place without warning and nearly always at night. -After much useless waiting, chance at last favoured me. On the 5th of -September, one of my boarders, who had been fertilized on the 29th of -August, decided to lay her eggs before my eyes at about four o’clock in -the afternoon. - -Before watching her labour, let us note one thing: all the nests that I -have obtained in the cages—and there are a good many of them—have as -their support, with not a single exception, the wire gauze of the -covers. I had taken care to place at the Mantes’ disposal a few rough -bits of stone, a few tufts of thyme, foundations very often used in the -open fields. My captives preferred the wire network, whose meshes -furnish a perfectly safe support as the soft material of the building -becomes encrusted in them. - -The nests, under natural conditions, enjoy no shelter; they have to -endure the inclemencies of winter, to withstand rain, wind, frost and -snow without coming loose. Therefore the mother always chooses an -uneven support for the nest, so that the foundations can be wedged into -it and a firm hold obtained. But, when circumstances permit, the better -is preferred to the middling and the best to the better; and this must -be the reason why the trelliswork of the cages is invariably adopted. - -The only Mantis that I have been allowed to observe while engaged in -laying does her work upside down, hanging from the top of the cage. My -presence, my magnifying-glass, my investigations do not disturb her at -all, so great is her absorption in her labour. I can raise the -trellised dome, tilt it, turn it over, spin it this way and that, -without the insect’s suspending its task for a moment. I can take my -forceps and lift the long wings to see what is happening underneath. -The Mantis takes no notice. Up to this point, all is well: the mother -does not move and impassively endures all the indiscretions of which I -am guilty as an observer. And yet things do not go quite as I could -wish, for the operation is too rapid and is too difficult to follow. - -The end of the abdomen is immersed the whole time in a sea of foam, -which prevents us from grasping the details of the process with any -clearness. This foam is greyish-white, a little sticky and almost like -soapsuds. When it first appears, it adheres slightly to a straw which I -dip into it, but, two minutes afterwards, it is solidified and no -longer sticks to the straw. In a very short time, its consistency is -that which we find in an old nest. - -The frothy mass consists mainly of air imprisoned in little bubbles. -This air, which gives the nest a volume much greater than that of the -Mantis’ belly, obviously does not come from the insect, though the foam -appears at the entrance of the genital organs; it is taken from the -atmosphere. The Mantis, therefore, builds above all with air, which is -eminently suited to protect the nest against the weather. She -discharges a sticky substance, similar to the caterpillars’ silk-fluid; -and with this composition, which amalgamates instantly with the outer -air, she produces foam. - -She whips her product just as we whip white of egg to make it rise and -froth. The tip of the abdomen, opening with a long cleft, forms two -lateral ladles which meet and separate with a constant, rapid movement, -beating the sticky fluid and turning it into foam as it is discharged -outside. In addition, between the two flapping ladles, we see the -internal organs rising and falling, appearing and disappearing, after -the manner of a piston-rod, without being able to distinguish their -precise action, drowned as they are in the opaque stream of foam. - -The end of the abdomen, ever throbbing, quickly opening and closing its -valves, swings from right to left and left to right like a pendulum. -The result of each swing is a layer of eggs inside and a transversal -furrow outside. As the abdomen advances in the arc described, suddenly -and at very close intervals it dips deeper into the foam, as though it -were pushing something to the bottom of the frothy mass. Each time, no -doubt, an egg is laid; but things happen so fast and under conditions -so unfavourable to observation that I never once succeed in seeing the -ovipositor at work. I can judge of the arrival of the eggs only by the -movements of the tip of the abdomen, which suddenly drives down and -immerses itself more deeply. - -At the same time, the viscous stuff is poured forth in intermittent -waves and whipped and turned into foam by the two terminal valves. The -froth obtained spreads over the sides of the layer of eggs and at the -base, where I see it, pressed back by the abdomen, projecting through -the meshes of the gauze. Thus the spongy covering is gradually brought -into being as the ovaries are emptied. - -I imagine, without being able to rely on direct observation, that for -the central kernel, where the eggs are contained in a more homogeneous -material than the rind, the Mantis employs her product as it is, -without beating it up and making it foam. When the eggs are deposited, -the two valves would produce foam to cover them. Once again, however, -all this is very difficult to follow under the veil of the bubbling -mass. - -In a new nest, the exit-zone is coated with a layer of fine porous -matter, of a pure, dull, almost chalky white, which contrasts with the -dirty white of the remainder of the nest. It is like the composition -which confectioners make out of whipped white of egg, sugar and starch, -with which to ornament their cakes. This snowy covering is very easily -crumbled and removed. When it is gone, the exit-zone is clearly -defined, with its two rows of plates with free edges. The weather, the -wind and the rain sooner or later remove it in strips and flakes; and -therefore the old nests retain no traces of it. - -At the first inspection, one might be tempted to look upon this snowy -matter as a different substance from the remainder of the nest. But can -it be that the Mantis really employs two different products? By no -means. Anatomy, to begin with, assures us of the unity of the -materials. The organ that secretes the substance of the nest consists -of twisted cylindrical tubes, divided into two sections of twenty each. -All are filled with a colourless, viscous fluid, exactly similar in -appearance wherever we look. There is nowhere any sign of a product -with a chalky colouring. - -The manner in which the snowy ribbon is formed also makes us reject the -theory of different materials. We see the Mantis’ two caudal threads -sweeping the surface of the foamy mass, skimming, so to speak, the top -of the froth, collecting it and retaining it along the back of the nest -to form a band that looks like a ribbon of icing. What remains after -this sweeping, or what trickles from the band before it sets, spreads -over the sides in a thin wash of bubbles so fine that they cannot be -seen without the magnifying-glass. - -The surface of a muddy stream containing clay will be covered with -coarse and dirty foam, churned up by the rushing torrent. On this foam, -soiled with earthy materials, we see here and there masses of beautiful -white froth, with smaller bubbles. Selection is due to the difference -in density; and so the snow-white foam in places lies on top of the -dirty foam whence it proceeds. Something similar happens when the -Mantis builds her nest. The twin ladles reduce to foam the sticky spray -from the glands. The thinnest and lightest portion, made whiter by its -more delicate porousness, rises to the surface, where the caudal -threads sweep it up and gather it into a snowy ribbon along the back of -the nest. - -Until now, with a little patience, observation has been practicable and -has given satisfactory results. It becomes impossible when we come to -the very complex structure of that middle zone where exits are -contrived for the emergence of the larvæ under the shelter of a double -row of imbricated plates. The little that I am able to make out amounts -to this: the tip of the abdomen, split wide from top to bottom, forms a -sort of button-hole whose upper end remains almost fixed while the -lower end, in swinging, produces foam and immerses eggs in it. It is -that upper end which is undoubtedly responsible for the work of the -middle zone. I always see it in the extension of that zone, in the -midst of the fine white foam collected by the caudal filaments. These, -one on the right, the other on the left, mark the boundaries of the -band. They feel its edges; they seem to be testing the work. I can -easily imagine them two long and exquisitely delicate fingers -controlling the difficult business of construction. - -But how are the two rows of scales obtained and the fissures, the -exit-doors, which they shelter? I do not know. I cannot even guess. I -leave the rest of the problem to others. - -What a wonderful mechanism is this which emits so methodically and -swiftly the horny matrix of the central kernel, the protecting froth, -the white foam of the median ribbon, the eggs and the fertilizing fluid -and which at the same time is able to build overlapping plates, -imbricated scales and alternating open fissures! We are lost in -admiration. And yet how easily the work is done! The Mantis hangs -motionless on the wire gauze which is the foundation of her nest. She -gives not a glance at the edifice that is rising behind her; her legs -are not called upon for assistance of any kind. The thing works of -itself. We have here not an industrial task requiring the cunning of -instinct; it is a purely automatic process, regulated by the insect’s -tools and organization. The nest, with its highly complicated -structure, proceeds solely from the play of the organs, even as in our -own industries we manufacture by machinery a host of objects whose -perfection would outwit our manual dexterity. - -From another point of view, the Mantis’ nest is more remarkable still. -We see in it a superb application of one of the most beautiful -principles of physics, that of the conservation of heat. The Mantis -anticipated us in a knowledge of non-conducting bodies. - -We owe to Rumford, [34] the natural philosopher, the following curious -experiment, which fittingly demonstrates the low conductivity of the -air. The illustrious scientist dropped a frozen cheese into a mass of -foam supplied by well-beaten eggs. The whole was subjected to the heat -of an oven. The result in a short time was an omelette soufflée hot -enough to burn the tongue, with the cheese in the middle as cold as at -the beginning. The air contained in the bubbles of the surrounding -froth explains the strange phenomenon. As an exceedingly poor thermal -conductor, it had arrested the heat of the oven and prevented it from -reaching the frozen substance in the centre. - -Now what does the Mantis do? Precisely the same as Rumford: she whips -her white of egg into an omelette soufflée, to protect the eggs -collected into a central kernel. Her aim, it is true, is reversed: her -coagulated foam is intended to ward off the cold, not the heat. But a -protection against one is a protection against the other; and the -ingenious physicist, had he wished, could easily with the same frothy -wrapper have maintained the heat of a body in cold surroundings. - -Rumford knew the secrets of the stratum of air thanks to the -accumulated knowledge of his ancestors, his own researches and his own -studies. How is it that for no one knows how many centuries the Mantis -has beaten our natural philosophers in the matter of this delicate -problem of heat? How did she come to think of wrapping a blanket of -foam around her mass of eggs, which, fixed without any shelter to a -twig or stone, has to endure the rigours of winter with impunity? - -The other Mantidæ of my neighbourhood, the only ones of whom I can -speak with full knowledge, use the non-conducting wrapper of solidified -foam or do without it, according as the eggs are destined to live -through the winter or not. The little Grey Mantis, who differs so -greatly from the other owing to the almost entire absence of wings in -the female, builds a nest not quite so big as a cherry-stone and covers -it very cleverly with a rind of froth. Why this beaten-up envelope? -Because the nest of the Grey Mantis, like that of the Praying Mantis, -has to last through the winter, exposed on its bough or stone to all -the dangers of the bad weather. - -On the other hand, in spite of her size, which is equal to that of the -Praying Mantis, Empusa pauperata, who is the most curious of our -insects, builds a nest as small as that of the Grey Mantis. It is a -very modest edifice, consisting of a small number of cells set side by -side in three or four rows joined together. Here there is no frothy -envelope at all, though the nest, like those mentioned above, is fixed -in an exposed situation on some twig or broken stone. This absence of a -non-conducting mattress points to a difference in climatic conditions. -The Empusa’s eggs, in fact, hatch soon after they are laid, during the -fine weather. Not having to undergo the inclemencies of winter, they -have no protection but the slender sheath of their cases. - -Are these scrupulous and rational precautions, which rival Rumford’s -omelette soufflée, a casual result, one of those numberless -combinations turned out by the wheel of fortune? If so, let us not -shrink from any absurdity, but recognize straightway that the blindness -of chance is endowed with marvellous foresight. - -The blunt end of the nest is the first part built by the Praying Mantis -and the tapering end the last. The latter is often prolonged into a -sort of spur made by drawing out the final drop of albuminous fluid -used. To complete the whole thing demands about two hours of -concentrated work, free from interruption. - -As soon as the laying is finished, the mother withdraws, callously. I -expected to see her return and display some tender feeling for the -cradle of her family. But there is not the least sign of maternal joy. -The work is done and possesses no further interest for her. Some -Locusts have come up. One even perches on the nest. The Mantis pays no -attention to the intruders. They are peaceful, it is true. Would she -drive them away if they were dangerous and if they looked like ripping -open the egg-casket? Her impassive behaviour answers no. What is the -nest to her henceforth? She knows it no more. - -I have spoken of the repeated coupling of the Praying Mantis and of the -tragic end of the male, who is nearly always devoured like an ordinary -piece of game. In the space of a fortnight I have seen the same female -marry again as many as seven times over. Each time the easily-consoled -widow ate up her mate. Such habits make one assume repeated layings; -and these do, in fact, take place, though they are not the general -rule. Among my mothers, some gave me only one nest; others supplied me -with two, both equally large. The most fertile produced three, of which -the first two were of normal size, while the third was reduced to half -the usual dimensions. - -The last-mentioned insect shall tell us the population which the -Mantis’ ovaries are capable of producing. Reckoning by the transversal -furrows of the nest, we can easily count the layers of eggs. These are -more or less rich according to their position at the middle of the -ellipsoid or at the ends. The numbers of the eggs in the biggest and in -the smallest layer furnish an average from which we can approximately -deduce the total. In this way I find that a good-sized nest contains -about four hundred eggs. The mother with the three nests, the last of -which was only half the size of the others, therefore left as her -offspring no fewer than a thousand germs; those who laid twice left -eight hundred; and the less fertile mothers three to four hundred. In -every case, it is a fine family, which would even become cumbrous, if -it were not subjected to drastic pruning. - -The pretty little Grey Mantis is much less lavish. In my cages she lays -only once; and her nest contains some sixty eggs at most. Although -built on the same principles and likewise fixed in the open, it differs -remarkably from the work of the Praying Mantis, first in its scanty -dimensions and next in certain details of structure. It is shaped like -a shelving ridge. The two sides are curved and the median line projects -into a slightly denticulated crest. It is grooved crosswise by about a -dozen furrows, corresponding with the several layers of eggs. Here we -find no exit-zone, with short, imbricated scales; no snowy ribbon with -alternating outlets. The whole surface, including the foundation, is -uniformly covered with a shiny red-brown rind, in which the bubbles are -very small. One end is ogival in shape; the other, the end where the -nest finishes, is abruptly truncated and is prolonged above in a short -spur. The whole forms a kernel surrounded by the foamy rind. Like the -Praying Mantis, the Grey Mantis works at night, an unfortunate -circumstance for the observer. - -Large in size, curious in build and moreover plainly visible on its -stone or its bit of brushwood, the Praying Mantis’ nest could not fail -to attract the attention of the Provençal peasant. It is, in fact, very -well-known in the country districts, where it bears the name of tigno; -it even enjoys a great reputation. Yet nobody seems to be aware of its -origin. It is always a matter for surprise to my rustic neighbours when -I inform them that the famous tigno is the nest of the common -Prègo-Diéu. Their ignorance might well be due to the Mantis’ habit of -laying her eggs at night. The insect has never been caught working at -her nest in the mysterious darkness; and the link between the worker -and the work is missing, though both are known to every one in the -village. - -No matter: the singular object exists; it attracts the eye, it -captivates the attention. It must therefore be good for something, it -must possess virtues. Thus, throughout the ages, have the ingenuous -argued, hoping to find in the unfamiliar an alleviation of their pains. - -By general consent, the rural pharmacopœia, in Provence, extols the -tigno as the best remedy against chilblains. The way to employ it is -exceedingly simple. You cut the thing in two, squeeze it and rub the -afflicted part with the streaming juice. The remedy, they say, works -like a charm. Every one mad with the itching of blue and swollen -fingers hastens to have recourse to the tigno, according to traditional -custom. Does he really obtain relief? - -Notwithstanding the unanimous conviction, I venture to doubt it, after -the fruitless experiments tried upon myself and other members of my -household during the winter of 1895, when the long and severe frost -produced any amount of epidermic discomfort. Not one of us, when -smeared with the celebrated ointment, saw the chilblains on his fingers -decrease nor felt the irritation relieved in the slightest degree by -the albuminous varnish of the crushed tigno. It seems probable that -others are no more successful and that the popular reputation of the -specific nevertheless survives, probably because of a mere identity of -name between the remedy and the disease: the Provençal for chilblain is -tigno. Once that the nest of the Praying Mantis and the chilblain are -known by the same name, do not the virtues of the former become -obvious? That is how reputations are created. - -In my village and no doubt for some distance around, the tigno—I am now -speaking of the Mantis’ nest—is also highly praised as a wonderful cure -for toothache. As long as you have it on you, you need never fear that -trouble. Our housewives gather it under a favourable moon; they -preserve it religiously in a corner of the press; they sew it into -their pocket, lest they should lose it when taking out their -handkerchief; and neighbours borrow it when tortured by some molar. - -“Lend me your tigno: I am in agony,” says the sufferer with the swollen -face. - -The other hastens to unstitch and to hand over the precious object: - -“Don’t lose it, whatever you do,” she impresses on her friend. “It’s -the only one I have; and this isn’t the right time of moon.” - -Let us not laugh at this eccentric toothache-nostrum: many remedies -that sprawl triumphantly over the back pages of the newspapers are no -more effective. Besides, this rural simplicity is surpassed by some old -books in which slumbers the science of by-gone days. An English -naturalist of the sixteenth century, Thomas Moffett, the physician, -[35] tells us that, if a child lose his way in the country, he will ask -the Mantis to put him on his road. The Mantis, adds the author, “will -stretch out one of her feet and shew him the right way and seldome or -never misse.” These charming things are told with adorable simplicity: - - - “Tam divina censetur bestiola, ut puero interroganti de via, - extento digito rectam monstrat atque raro vel nunquam fallat.” - - -Where did the credulous scholar get this pretty story? Not in England, -where the Mantis cannot live; not in Provence, where we find no trace -of the boyish question. All said, I prefer the spiflicating virtues of -the tigno to the old naturalist’s imaginings. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE MANTIS: HER HATCHING - - -The eggs of the Praying Mantis usually hatch in bright sunshine, at -about ten o’clock on a mid-June morning. The median band or exit-zone -is the only portion of the nest that affords an outlet to the -youngsters. - -From under each scale of that zone we see slowly appearing a blunt, -transparent protuberance, followed by two large black specks, which are -the eyes. Softly the new-born grub slips under the thin plate and -half-releases itself. Is it the little Mantis in his larval form, so -nearly allied to that of the adult? Not yet. It is a transition -organism. The head is opalescent, blunt, swollen, with palpitations -caused by the flow of the blood. The rest is tinted reddish-yellow. It -is quite easy to distinguish, under a general overall, the large black -eyes clouded by the veil that covers them, the mouth-parts flattened -against the chest, the legs plastered to the body from front to back. -Altogether, with the exception of the very obvious legs, the whole -thing, with its big blunt head, its eyes, its delicate abdominal -segmentation and its boatlike shape, reminds us somewhat of the first -state of the Cicadæ on leaving the egg, a state which is pictured -exactly by a tiny, finless fish. - -Here then is a second instance of an organization of very brief -duration having as its function to bring into the light of day, through -narrow and difficult passes, a microscopic creature whose limbs, if -free, would, because of their length, be an insurmountable impediment. -To enable him to emerge from the exiguous tunnel of his twig, a tunnel -bristling with woody fibres and blocked with shells already empty, the -Cicada is born swathed in bands and endowed with a boat shape, which is -eminently suited to slipping easily through an awkward passage. The -young Mantis is exposed to similar difficulties. He has to emerge from -the depths of the nest through narrow, winding ways, in which -full-spread, slender limbs would not be able to find room. The high -stilts, the murderous harpoons, the delicate antennæ, organs which will -be most useful presently, in the brushwood, would now hinder the -emergence, would make it very laborious, impossible. The creature -therefore comes into existence swaddled and furthermore takes the shape -of a boat. - -The case of the Cicada and the Mantis opens up a new vein to us in the -inexhaustible entomological mine. I extract from it a law which other -and similar facts, picked up more or less everywhere, will certainly -not fail to confirm. The true larva is not always the direct product of -the egg. When the newborn grub is likely to experience special -difficulties in effecting its deliverance, an accessory organism, which -I shall continue to call the primary larva, precedes the genuine larval -state and has as its function to bring to the light of day the tiny -creature which is incapable of releasing itself. - -To go on with our story, the primary larvæ show themselves under the -thin plates of the exit-zone. A vigorous flow of humours occurs in the -head, swelling it out and converting it into a diaphanous and -ever-throbbing blister. In this way the splitting-apparatus is -prepared. At the same time, the little creature, half-caught under its -scale, sways, pushes forward, draws back. Each swaying is accompanied -by an increase of the swelling in the head. At last the prothorax -arches and the head is bent low towards the chest. The tunic bursts -across the prothorax. The little animal tugs, wriggles, sways, bends -and straightens itself again. The legs are drawn from their sheaths; -the antennæ, two long parallel threads, are likewise released. The -creature is now fastened to the nest only by a worn-out cord. A few -shakes complete the deliverance. - -We here have the insect in its genuine larval form. All that remains -behind is a sort of irregular cord, a shapeless clout which the least -breath blows about like a flimsy bit of fluff. It is the exit-tunic -violently shed and reduced to a mere rag. - -For all my watchfulness, I missed the moment of hatching in the case of -the Grey Mantis. The little that I know is reduced to this: at the end -of the spur or promontory with which the nest finishes in front is a -small, dull-white speck, formed of very powdery foam. This round pore -is only just plugged with a frothy stopper and constitutes the sole -outlet from the nest, which is thoroughly strengthened at every other -part. It takes the place of the long band of scales through which the -Praying Mantis is released. It is here that the youngsters must emerge -one by one from their casket. Chance does not favour me and I do not -witness the exodus, but, soon after the family has come forth, I see -dangling at the entrance to the liberating pore a shapeless bunch of -white cast-off clothes, thin skins which a puff of wind would disperse. -These are the garments flung aside by the young as they make their -appearance in the open air; and they testify to the presence of a -transition wrapper which permits of movement inside the maze of the -nest. The Grey Mantis therefore also has her primary larva, which packs -itself up in a narrow sheath, conducive to escape. The period of this -emergence is June. - -To return to the Praying Mantis. The hatching does not take place all -over the nest at one time, but rather in sections, in successive swarms -which may be separated by intervals of two days or more. The pointed -end, containing the last eggs, usually begins. This inversion of -chronological order, calling the last to the light of day before the -first, may well be due to the shape of the nest. The thin end, which is -more accessible to the stimulus of a fine day, wakes up before the -blunt end, which is larger and does not so soon acquire the necessary -amount of heat. - -Sometimes, however, although still broken up in swarms, the hatching -embraces the whole length of the exit-zone. A striking sight indeed is -the sudden exodus of a hundred young Mantes. Hardly does the tiny -creature show its black eyes under a scale before others appear -instantly, in their numbers. It is as though a certain shock were being -communicated from one to another, as though an awakening signal were -transmitted, so swiftly does the hatching spread all round. Almost in a -moment the median band is covered with young Mantes who run about -feverishly, stripping themselves of their rent garments. - -The nimble little creatures do not stay long on the nest. They let -themselves drop off or else clamber into the nearest foliage. All is -over in less than twenty minutes. The common cradle resumes its -peaceful condition, prior to furnishing a new legion a few days later; -and so on until all the eggs are finished. - -I have witnessed this exodus as often as I wished to, either out of -doors, in my enclosure, where I had deposited in sunny places the nests -gathered more or less everywhere during my winter leisure, or else in -the seclusion of a greenhouse, where I thought, in my simplicity, that -I should be better able to protect the budding family. I have witnessed -the hatching twenty times if I have once; and I have always beheld a -scene of unforgetable carnage. The round-bellied Mantis may procreate -germs by the thousands: she will never have enough to cope with the -devourers who are destined to decimate the breed from the moment that -it leaves the egg. - -The Ants above all are zealous exterminators. Daily I surprise their -ill-omened visits on my rows of nests. It is vain for me to intervene, -however seriously; their assiduity never slackens. They seldom succeed -in making a breach in the fortress: that is too difficult; but, greedy -of the dainty flesh in course of formation inside, they await a -favourable opportunity, they lie in wait for the exit. - -Despite my daily watchfulness, they are there the moment that the young -Mantes appear. They grab them by the abdomen, pull them out of their -sheaths, cut them up. You see a piteous fray between tender babes -gesticulating as their only means of defence and ferocious brigands -carrying their spolia opima at the end of their mandibles. In less than -no time the massacre of the innocents is consummated; and all that -remains of the flourishing family is a few scattered survivors who have -escaped by accident. - -The future assassin, the scourge of the insect race, the terror of the -Locust on the brushwood, the dread devourer of fresh meat, is herself -devoured, from her birth, by one of the least of that race, the Ant. -The ogress, prolific to excess, sees her family thinned by the dwarf. -But the slaughter is not long continued. So soon as she has acquired a -little firmness from the air and strengthened her legs, the Mantis -ceases to be attacked. She trots about briskly among the Ants, who fall -back as she passes, no longer daring to tackle her. With her -grappling-legs brought close to her chest, like arms ready for -self-defence, already she strikes awe into them by her proud bearing. - -A second connoisseur in tender meats pays no heed to these threats. -This is the little Grey Lizard, the lover of sunny walls. Apprised I -know not how of the quarry, here he comes, picking up one by one, with -the tip of his slender tongue, the stray insects that have escaped the -Ants. They make a small mouthful but an exquisite one, so it seems, to -judge by the blinking of the reptile’s eye. For each little wretch -gulped down, its lid half-closes, a sign of profound satisfaction. I -drive away the bold Lizard who ventures to perpetrate his raid before -my eyes. He comes back again and, this time, pays dearly for his -rashness. If I let him have his way, I should have nothing left. - -Is this all? Not yet. Another ravager, the smallest of all but not the -least formidable, has anticipated the Lizard and the Ant. This is a -very tiny Hymenopteron armed with a probe, a Chalcis, who establishes -her eggs in the newly-built nest. The Mantis’ brood shares the fate of -the Cicada’s: parasitic vermin attack the eggs and empty the shells. -Out of all that I have collected I often obtain nothing or hardly -anything. The Chalcis has been that way. - -Let us gather up what the various exterminators, known or unknown, have -left me. When newly hatched, the larva is of a pale hue, white faintly -tinged with yellow. The swelling of its head soon diminishes and -disappears. Its colour is not long in darkening and turns light-brown -within twenty-four hours. The little Mantis very nimbly lifts up her -grappling-legs, opens and closes them; she turns her head to right and -left; she curls her abdomen. The fully-developed larva has no greater -litheness and agility. For a few minutes the family stops where it is, -swarming over the nest; then it scatters at random on the ground and -the plants hard by. - -I instal a few dozen emigrants under bell-covers. On what shall I feed -these future huntresses? On game, obviously. But what game? To these -miniature creatures I can only offer atoms. I serve them up a -rose-branch covered with Green Fly. The plump Aphis, a tender morsel -suited to my feeble guests, is utterly scorned. Not one of the captives -touches it. - -I try them with Midges, the smallest that chance flings into my net as -it sweeps the grass, and meet with the same obstinate refusal. I offer -them pieces of Fly, hung here and there on the gauze of the cover. None -accepts my quarters of venison. Perhaps the Locust will tempt them, the -Locust on whom the adult Mantis dotes? A prolonged and minute search -places me in possession of what I want. This time the bill of fare will -consist of a few recently hatched Acridians. Young as they are, they -have already reached the size of my charges. Will the little Mantes -fancy these? They do not fancy them: at the sight of their tiny prey -they run away dismayed. - -Then what do you want? What other game do you find on your native -brushwood? I can see nothing. Can you have some special infants’ food, -vegetarian perhaps? Let us even try the improbable. The very tenderest -bit of the heart of a lettuce is declined. So are the different sorts -of grass which I tax my ingenuity in varying; so are the drops of honey -which I place on spikes of lavender. All my endeavours come to nothing; -and my captives die of inanition. - -My failure has its lessons. It seems to point to a transition diet -which I have not been able to discover. Long ago, the larvæ of the -Oil-beetles gave me a great deal of trouble, before I knew that they -want as their first food the egg of the Bee whose store of honey they -will afterwards consume. Perhaps the young Mantes also in the beginning -demand a special pap, something more in keeping with their frailty. -Despite its resolute air, I do not quite see the feeble little creature -hunting. The game, whatever it be, kicks out, when attacked, frisks -about, defends itself; and the assailant is not yet in a condition to -ward off even the flap of a Midge’s wing. Then what does it feed on? I -should not be surprised if there were interesting facts to be picked up -in this baby-food question. - -These fastidious ones, so difficult to provide with nourishment, meet -with even more pitiful deaths than hunger. When only just born, they -fall a prey to the Ant, the Lizard and other ravagers who lie in wait, -patiently, for the exquisite provender to hatch. The egg itself is not -respected. An infinitesimal perforator inserts her own eggs in the nest -through the barrier of solidified foam, thus settling her offspring, -which, maturing earlier, nips the Mantis’ family in the bud. How many -are called and how few are chosen! There were a thousand of them -perhaps, sprung from one mother who was capable of giving birth to -three broods. One couple alone escapes extermination, one alone keeps -up the breed, seeing that the number remains more or less the same from -year to year. - -Here a serious question arises. Can the Mantis have acquired her -present fecundity by degrees? Can she, as the ravages of the Ant and -others reduced her progeny, have increased the output of her ovaries so -as to make up for excessive destruction by excessive production? Could -the enormous brood of to-day be due to the wastage of former days? So -think some, who are ready, without convincing proofs, to see in animals -even more profound changes brought about by circumstances. - -In front of my window, on the sloping margin of the pond, stands a -magnificent cherry-tree. It came there by accident, a sturdy wilding, -disregarded by my predecessors and to-day respected far more for its -spreading branches than for its fruit, which is of very indifferent -quality. In April it forms a splendid white-satin dome. Its blossoms -are as snow; their fallen petals carpet the ground. Soon the red -cherries appear in profusion. O my beautiful tree, how lavish you are -and what a number of baskets you will fill! - -And for this reason what revelry up above! The Sparrow is the first to -hear of the ripe cherries and comes trooping, morning and evening, to -pilfer and squall; he informs his friends in the neighbourhood, the -Greenfinch and the Warbler, who hasten up and banquet for weeks on end. -Butterflies flit from one nibbled cherry to another, taking delicious -sips at each. Rose-chafers bite great mouthfuls out of the fruit, then -fall asleep sated. Wasps and Hornets burst open the sweet caskets; and -the Gnats follow to get drunk in their wake. A plump maggot, settled in -the very centre of the pulp, blissfully feasts upon its juicy -dwelling-house and waxes big and fat. It will rise from table to change -into a comely Fly. - -On the ground there are others at the banquet. A host of footpads is -battening on the fallen cherries. At night, the Field-mice come -gathering the stones stripped by the Wood-lice, Earwigs, Ants and -Slugs; they hoard them in their burrows. During the long winter they -will make holes in them to extract and nibble the kernels. A numberless -throng lives upon the generous cherry-tree. - -What would the tree require to provide a successor one day and maintain -its species in a state of harmonious and well-balanced prosperity? A -single seed would be enough; and every year it gives forth bushels and -bushels. Tell me why, please. - -Shall we say that the cherry-tree, at first very economical with its -fruit, became lavish by degrees in order thus to escape its -multitudinous ravagers? Shall we say of the tree, as we said of the -Mantis, that excessive destruction gradually induced excessive -production? Who would dare to venture on such rash statements? Is it -not perfectly obvious that the cherry-tree is one of those factories in -which elements are wrought into organic matter, one of those -laboratories in which the dead thing is changed into the thing fitted -to live? No doubt, cherries ripen that they may be perpetuated; but -these are the minority, the very small minority. If all seeds were to -sprout and to develop fully, there would long ago have been no room on -the earth for the cherry-tree alone. The vast majority of its fruits -fulfil another function. They serve as food for a crowd of living -creatures, who are not skilled as the plant is in the transcendental -chemistry that turns the uneatable into the eatable. - -Matter, in order to serve in the highest manifestations of life, must -undergo slow and most delicate elaboration. That elaboration begins in -the workshop of the infinitely small, of the microbe, for instance, one -of which, more powerful than the lightning’s might, combines oxygen and -nitrogen and produces nitrates, the primary food of plants. It begins -on the confines of nothingness, is improved in the vegetal, is yet -further refined in the animal and step by step attains the substance of -the brain. - -How many hidden labourers, how many unknown manipulators worked perhaps -for centuries, first at getting the rough ore and then at the refining -of that grey matter which becomes the brain, the most marvellous of the -implements of the mind, even if it were capable only of making us say: - -“Two and two are four!” - -The rocket, when rising, reserves for the culminating point of its -ascent the dazzling fountain of its many-coloured lights. Then all is -dark again. Its smoke, its gases, its oxides will, in the long run, be -able to reconstitute other explosives by vegetable processes. Even so -does matter act in its metamorphoses. From stage to stage, from one -delicate refinement to another yet more delicate, it succeeds in -attaining heights where the splendours of the intellect shine forth -through its agency; then, shattered by the effort, it relapses into the -nameless thing whence it started, into scattered molecules which are -the common origin of living things. - -At the head of the assemblers of organic matter stands the plant, the -animal’s senior. Directly or indirectly, it is to-day, as it was in the -geological period, the chief purveyor to beings more generously endowed -with life. In the laboratory of its cell the food of the universe at -least gets its first rough preparation. Comes the animal, which -corrects the preparation, improves it and transmits it to others of a -higher order. Cropped grass becomes mutton; and mutton becomes human -flesh or Wolf-flesh, according to the consumer. - -Among those elaborators of nourishing atoms which do not create organic -matter out of any- and everything, starting with the mineral, as the -plant does, the most prolific are the fishes, the first-born of -vertebrate animals. Ask the Cod what she does with her millions of -eggs. Her answer will be that of the beech with its myriads of nuts, or -the oak with its myriads of acorns. She is immensely fruitful in order -to feed an immense number of the hungry. She is continuing the work -which her predecessors performed in remote ages, when nature, not as -yet rich in organic matter, hastened to increase her reserves of life -by bestowing prodigious exuberance upon her primeval workers. - -The Mantis, like the fish, dates back to those distant epochs. Her -strange shape and her uncouth habits have told us so. The richness of -her ovaries confirms it. She retains in her entrails a feeble relic of -the procreative fury that prevailed in olden times under the dank shade -of the arborescent ferns; she contributes, in a very humble but none -the less real measure, to the sublime alchemy of living things. - -Let us look closely at her work. The grass grows thick and green, -drawing its nourishment from the earth. The Locust crops it. The Mantis -makes a meal of the Locust and swells out with eggs, which are laid, in -three batches, to the number of a thousand. When they hatch, up comes -the Ant and levies an enormous tribute on the brood. We appear to be -retroceding. In vastness of bulk, yes; in refinement of instinct, -certainly not. In this respect how far superior is the Ant to the -Mantis! Besides, the cycle of possible happenings is not closed. - -Young Ants still contained in their cocoon—popularly known as -Ants’-eggs—form the food on which the Pheasant’s brood is reared. These -are domestic poultry just as much as the Pullet and the Capon, but -their keep makes greater demands on the owner’s care and purse. When it -grows big, this poultry is let loose in the woods; and people calling -themselves civilized take the greatest pleasure in bringing down with -their guns the poor creatures which have lost the instinct of -self-preservation in the pheasantries, or, to speak plainly, in the -poultry-yard. You cut the throat of the Chicken required for roasting; -you shoot, with all the parade of sport, that other Chicken, the -Pheasant. I fail to understand those insensate massacres. - -Tartarin of Tarascon, in the absence of game, used to shoot at his cap. -I prefer that. And above all I prefer the hunting, real hunting, of -another fervent consumer of Ants, the Wryneck, the Tiro-lengo of the -Provençaux, so-called because of his scientific method of darting his -immensely-long and sticky tongue across a procession of Ants and then -suddenly withdrawing it all black with the limed insects. With such -mouthfuls as these, the Wryneck becomes disgracefully fat in autumn; he -plasters himself with butter on his rump and sides and under his wings; -he hangs a string of it round his neck; he pads his skull with it right -down to the beak. - -He is then delicious, roasted: small, I admit; no bigger than a Lark, -at the outside; but, small though he be, unlike anything else and -immeasurably superior to the Pheasant, who must begin to go bad before -developing a flavour at all. - -Let me for this once do justice to the merit of the humblest! When the -table is cleared after the evening meal and all is quiet and my body -relieved for the time being of its physiological needs, sometimes I -succeed in picking up, here and there, a good idea or two; and it may -well be that the Mantis, the Locust, the Ant and even lesser creatures -contribute to these sudden gleams of light which flash unaccountably -into one’s mind. By strange and devious paths, they have all supplied, -in their respective ways, the drop of oil that feeds the lamp of -thought. Their energies, slowly developed, stored up and handed down by -predecessors, become infused into our veins and sustain our weakness. -We live by their death. - -To conclude. The Mantis, prolific to excess, in her turn makes organic -matter, bequeathing it to the Ant, who bequeaths it to the Wryneck, who -bequeaths it perhaps to man. She procreates a thousand, partly to -perpetuate her species, but far more than she may contribute, according -to her means, to the general picnic of the living. She brings us back -to the ancient symbol of the Serpent biting its own tail. The world is -an endless circle: everything finishes so that everything may begin -again; everything dies so that everything may live. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE EMPUSA - - -The sea, life’s first foster-mother, still preserves in her depths many -of those singular and incongruous shapes which were the earliest -attempts of the animal kingdom; the land, less fruitful, but with more -capacity for progress, has almost wholly lost the strange forms of -other days. The few that remain belong especially to the series of -primitive insects, insects exceedingly limited in their industrial -powers and subject to very summary metamorphoses, if to any at all. In -my district, in the front rank of those entomological anomalies which -remind us of the denizens of the old coal-forests, stand the Mantidæ, -including the Praying Mantis, so curious in habits and structure. Here -also is the Empusa (E. pauperata, Latr.), the subject of this chapter. - -Her larva is certainly the strangest creature among the terrestrial -fauna of Provence: a slim, swaying thing of so fantastic an appearance -that uninitiated fingers dare not lay hold of it. The children of my -neighbourhood, impressed by its startling shape, call it “the -Devilkin.” In their imaginations, the queer little creature savours of -witchcraft. One comes across it, though always sparsely, in spring, up -to May; in autumn; and sometimes in winter, if the sun be strong. The -tough grasses of the wastelands, the stunted bushes which catch the sun -and are sheltered from the wind by a few heaps of stones are the chilly -Empusa’s favourite abode. - -Let us give a rapid sketch of her. The abdomen, which always curls up -so as to join the back, spreads paddlewise and twists into a crook. -Pointed scales, a sort of foliaceous expansions arranged in three rows, -cover the lower surface, which becomes the upper surface because of the -crook aforesaid. The scaly crook is propped on four long, thin stilts, -on four legs armed with knee-pieces, that is to say, carrying at the -end of the thigh, where it joins the shin, a curved, projecting blade -not unlike that of a cleaver. - -Above this base, this four-legged stool, rises, at a sudden angle, the -stiff corselet, disproportionately long and almost perpendicular. The -end of this bust, round and slender as a straw, carries the -hunting-trap, the grappling limbs, copied from those of the Mantis. -They consist of a terminal harpoon, sharper than a needle, and a cruel -vice, with jaws toothed like a saw. The jaw formed by the arm proper is -hollowed into a groove and carries on either side five long spikes, -with smaller indentations in between. The jaw formed by the fore-arm is -similarly furrowed, but its double saw, which fits into the groove of -the upper arm when at rest, is formed of finer, closer and more regular -teeth. The magnifying-glass reveals a score of equal points in each -row. The machine only lacks size to be a fearful implement of torture. - -The head is in keeping with this arsenal. What a queer-shaped head it -is! A pointed face, with walrus moustaches furnished by the palpi; -large goggle eyes; between them, a dirk, a halberd blade; and, on the -forehead, a mad, unheard-of thing: a sort of tall mitre, an extravagant -head-dress that juts forward, spreading right and left into peaked -wings and cleft along the top. What does the Devilkin want with that -monstrous pointed cap, than which no wise man of the East, no -astrologer of old ever wore a more splendiferous? This we shall learn -when we see her out hunting. - -The dress is commonplace; grey tints predominate. Towards the end of -the larval period, after a few moultings, it begins to give a glimpse -of the adult’s richer livery and becomes striped, still very faintly, -with pale-green, white and pink. Already the two sexes are -distinguished by their antennæ. Those of the future mothers are -thread-like; those of the future males are distended into a spindle at -the lower half, forming a case or sheath whence graceful plumes will -spring at a later date. - -Behold the creature, worthy of a Callot’s [36] fantastic pencil. If you -come across it in the bramble-bushes, it sways upon its four stilts, it -wags its head, it looks at you with a knowing air, it twists its mitre -round and peers over its shoulder. You seem to read mischief in its -pointed face. You try to take hold of it. The imposing attitude ceases -forthwith, the raised corselet is lowered and the creature makes off -with mighty strides, helping itself along with its fighting-limbs, -which clutch the twigs. The flight need not last long, if you have a -practised eye. The Empusa is captured, put into a screw of paper, which -will save her frail limbs from sprains, and lastly penned in a -wire-gauze cage. In this way, in October, I obtain a flock sufficient -for my purpose. - -How to feed them? My Devilkins are very little; they are a month or two -old at most. I give them Locusts suited to their size, the smallest -that I can find. They refuse them. Nay more, they are frightened of -them. Should a thoughtless Locust meekly approach one of the Empusæ, -suspended by her four hind-legs to the trellised dome, the intruder -meets with a bad reception. The pointed mitre is lowered; and an angry -thrust sends him rolling. We have it: the wizard’s cap is a defensive -weapon, a protective crest. The Ram charges with his forehead, the -Empusa butts with her mitre. - -But this does not mean dinner. I serve up the House-fly, alive. She is -accepted, without hesitation. The moment that the Fly comes within -reach, the watchful Devilkin turns her head, bends the stalk of her -corselet slantwise and, flinging out her forelimb, harpoons the Fly and -grips her between her two saws. No Cat pouncing upon a Mouse could be -quicker. - -The game, however small, is enough for a meal. It is enough for the -whole day, often for several days. This is my first surprise: the -extreme abstemiousness of these savagely-armed insects. I was prepared -for ogres: I find ascetics satisfied with a meagre collation at rare -intervals. A Fly fills their belly for twenty-four hours at least. - -Thus passes the late autumn: the Empusæ, more and more temperate from -day to day, hang motionless from the wire gauze. Their natural -abstinence is my best ally, for Flies grow scarce; and a time comes -when I should be hard put to it to keep the menageries supplied with -provisions. - -During the three winter months, nothing stirs. From time to time, on -fine days, I expose the cage to the sun’s rays, in the window. Under -the influence of this heat-bath, the captives stretch their legs a -little, sway from side to side, make up their minds to move about, but -without displaying any awakening appetite. The rare Midges that fall to -my assiduous efforts do not appear to tempt them. It is a rule for them -to spend the cold season in a state of complete abstinence. - -My cages tell me what must happen outside, during the winter. Ensconced -in the crannies of the rockwork, in the sunniest places, the young -Empusæ wait, in a state of torpor, for the return of the hot weather. -Notwithstanding the shelter of a heap of stones, there must be painful -moments when the frost is prolonged and the snow penetrates little by -little into the best-protected crevices. No matter: hardier than they -look, the refugees escape the dangers of the winter season. Sometimes, -when the sun is strong, they venture out of their hiding-place and come -to see if spring be nigh. - -Spring comes. We are in March. My prisoners bestir themselves, change -their skin. They need victuals. My catering difficulties recommence. -The House-fly, so easy to catch, is lacking in these days. I fall back -upon earlier Diptera: Eristales, or Drone-flies. The Empusa refuses -them. They are too big for her and can offer too strenuous a -resistance. She wards off their approach with blows of her mitre. - -A few tender morsels, in the shape of very young Grasshoppers, are -readily accepted. Unfortunately, such wind-falls do not often find -their way into my sweeping-net. Abstinence becomes obligatory until the -arrival of the first Butterflies. Henceforth, Pieris brassicæ, the -White Cabbage Butterfly, will contribute the greater portion of the -victuals. - -Let loose in the wire cage, the Pieris is regarded as excellent game. -The Empusa lies in wait for her, seizes her, but releases her at once, -lacking the strength to overpower her. The Cabbage Butterfly’s great -wings, beating the air, give her shock after shock and compel her to -let go. I come to the weakling’s assistance and cut the wings of her -prey with my scissors. The maimed ones, still full of life, clamber up -the trelliswork and are forthwith grabbed by the Empusæ, who, in no way -frightened by their protests, crunch them up. The dish is to their -taste and, moreover, plentiful, so much so that there are always some -despised remnants. - -The head only and the upper portion of the breast are devoured: the -rest—the plump abdomen, the best part of the thorax, the legs and -lastly, of course, the wing-stumps—is flung aside untouched. Does this -mean that the tenderest and most succulent morsels are chosen? No, for -the belly is certainly more juicy; and the Empusa refuses it, though -she eats up her House-fly to the last particle. It is a strategy of -war. I am again in the presence of a neck-specialist as expert as the -Mantis herself in the art of swiftly slaying a victim that struggles -and, in struggling, spoils the meal. - -Once warned, I soon perceive that the game, be it Fly, Locust, -Grasshopper or Butterfly, is invariably struck in the neck, from -behind. The first bite is aimed at the point containing the cervical -ganglia and produces sudden death or immobility. Complete inertia will -leave the consumer in peace, the essential condition of every -satisfactory repast. - -The Devilkin, therefore, frail though she be, possesses the secret of -immediately destroying the resistance of her prey. She bites at the -back of the neck first, in order to give the finishing stroke. She goes -on nibbling around the original attacking-point. In this way, the -Butterfly’s head and the upper part of the breast are disposed of. But, -by that time, the huntress is surfeited: she wants so little! The rest -lies on the ground, disdained, not for lack of flavour, but because -there is too much of it. A Cabbage Butterfly far exceeds the capacity -of the Empusa’s stomach. The Ants will benefit by what is left. - -There is one other matter to be mentioned, before observing the -metamorphosis. The position adopted by the young Empusæ in the -wire-gauze cage is invariably the same from start to finish. Gripping -the trelliswork by the claws of its four hind-legs, the insect occupies -the top of the dome and hangs motionless, back downwards, with the -whole of its body supported by the four suspension-points. If it wishes -to move, the front harpoons open, stretch out, grasp a mesh and draw it -to them. When the short walk is over, the lethal arms are brought back -against the chest. One may say that it is nearly always the four -hind-shanks which alone support the suspended insect. - -And this reversed position, which seems to us so trying, lasts for no -short while: it is prolonged, in my cages, for ten months without a -break. The Fly on the ceiling, it is true, occupies the same attitude; -but she has her moments of rest: she flies, she walks in a normal -posture, she spreads herself flat in the sun. Besides, her acrobatic -feats do not cover a long period. The Empusa, on the other hand, -maintains her curious equilibrium for ten months on end, without a -break. Hanging from the trelliswork, back downwards, she hunts, eats, -digests, dozes, casts her skin, undergoes her transformation, mates, -lays her eggs and dies. She clambered up there when she was still quite -young; she falls down, full of days, a corpse. - -Things do not happen exactly like this under natural conditions. The -insect stands on the bushes back upwards; it keeps its balance in the -regular attitude and turns over only in circumstances that occur at -long intervals. The protracted suspension of my captives is all the -more remarkable inasmuch as it is not at all an innate habit of their -race. - -It reminds one of the Bats, who hang, head downwards, by their -hind-legs from the roof of their caves. A special formation of the toes -enables birds to sleep on one leg, which automatically and without -fatigue clutches the swaying bough. The Empusa shows me nothing akin to -their contrivance. The extremity of her walking-legs has the ordinary -structure: a double claw at the tip, a double steelyard-hook; and that -is all. - -I could wish that anatomy would show me the working of the muscles and -nerves in those tarsi, in those legs more slender than threads, the -action of the tendons that control the claws and keep them gripped for -ten months, unwearied in waking and sleeping. If some dexterous scalpel -should ever investigate this problem, I can recommend another, even -more singular than that of the Empusa, the Bat and the bird. I refer to -the attitude of certain Wasps and Bees during the night’s rest. - -An Ammophila with red fore-legs (A. holosericea) [37] is plentiful in -my enclosure towards the end of August and selects a certain -lavender-border for her dormitory. At dusk, especially after a stifling -day, when a storm is brewing, I am sure to find the strange sleeper -settled there. Never was more eccentric attitude adopted for a night’s -rest! The mandibles bite right into the lavender-stem. Its square shape -supplies a firmer hold than a round stalk would do. With this one and -only prop, the animal’s body juts out stiffly, at full length, with -legs folded. It forms a right angle with the supporting axis, so much -so that the whole weight of the insect, which has turned itself into -the arm of a lever, rests upon the mandibles. - -The Ammophila sleeps extended in space by virtue of its mighty jaws. It -takes an animal to think of a thing like that, which upsets all our -preconceived ideas of repose. Should the threatening storm burst, -should the stalk sway in the wind, the sleeper is not troubled by her -swinging hammock; at most, she presses her fore-legs for a moment -against the tossed mast. As soon as equilibrium is restored, the -favourite posture, that of the horizontal lever, is resumed. Perhaps -the mandibles, like the bird’s toes, possess the faculty of gripping -tighter in proportion to the rocking of the wind. - -The Ammophila is not the only one to sleep in this singular position, -which is copied by many others—Anthidia, [38] Odyneri, [39] Euceræ -[40]—and mainly by the males. All grip a stalk with their mandibles and -sleep with their bodies outstretched and their legs folded back. Some, -the stouter species, allow themselves to rest the tip of their arched -abdomen against the pole. - -This visit to the dormitory of certain Wasps and Bees does not explain -the problem of the Empusa; it sets up another one, no less difficult. -It shows us how deficient we are in insight, when it comes to -differentiating between fatigue and rest in the cogs of the animal -machine. The Ammophila, with the static paradox afforded by her -mandibles; the Empusa, with her claws unwearied by ten months’ hanging, -leave the physiologist perplexed and make him wonder what really -constitutes rest. In absolute fact, there is no rest, apart from that -which puts an end to life. The struggle never ceases; some muscle is -always toiling, some nerve straining. Sleep, which resembles a return -to the peace of non-existence, is, like waking, an effort, here of the -leg, of the curled tail; there of the claw, of the jaws. - -The transformation is effected about the middle of May and the adult -Empusa makes her appearance. She is even more remarkable in figure and -attire than the Praying Mantis. Of her youthful eccentricities, she -retains the pointed mitre, the saw-like arm-guards, the long bust, the -knee-pieces, the three rows of scales on the lower surface of the -belly; but the abdomen is now no longer twisted into a crook and the -animal is comelier to look upon. Large pale-green wings, pink at the -shoulder and swift in flight in both sexes, cover the belly, which is -striped white and green underneath. The male, the dandy sex, adorns -himself with plumed antennæ, like those of certain Moths, the Bombyx -tribe. In respect of size, he is almost the equal of his mate. - -Save for a few slight structural details, the Empusa is the Praying -Mantis. The peasant confuses them. When, in spring, he meets the mitred -insect, he thinks he sees the common Prègo-Diéu, who is a daughter of -the autumn. Similar forms would seem to indicate similarity of habits. -In fact, led away by the extraordinary armour, we should be tempted to -attribute to the Empusa a mode of life even more atrocious than that of -the Mantis. I myself thought so at first; and any one, relying upon -false analogies, would think the same. It is a fresh error: for all her -warlike aspect, the Empusa is a peaceful creature that hardly repays -the trouble of rearing. - -Installed under the gauze bell, whether in assemblies of half-a-dozen -or in separate couples, she at no time loses her placidity. Like the -larva, she is very abstemious and contents herself with a Fly or two as -her daily ration. - -Big eaters are naturally quarrelsome. The Mantis, bloated with Locusts, -soon becomes irritated and shows fight. The Empusa, with her frugal -meals, does not indulge in hostile demonstrations. There is no strife -among neighbours nor any of those sudden unfurlings of the wings so -dear to the Mantis when she assumes the spectral attitude and puffs -like a startled Adder; never the least inclination for those cannibal -banquets whereat the sister who has been worsted in the fight is -devoured. Such atrocities are here unknown. - -Unknown also are tragic nuptials. The male is enterprising and -assiduous and is subjected to a long trial before succeeding. For days -and days, he worries his mate, who ends by yielding. Due decorum is -preserved after the wedding. The feathered groom retires, respected by -his bride, and does his little bit of hunting, without danger of being -apprehended and gobbled up. - -The two sexes live together in peace and mutual indifference until the -middle of July. Then the male, grown old and decrepit, takes counsel -with himself, hunts no more, becomes shaky in his walk, creeps down -from the lofty heights of the trellised dome and at last collapses on -the ground. His end comes by a natural death. And remember that the -other, the male of the Praying Mantis, ends in the stomach of his -gluttonous spouse. - -The laying follows close upon the disappearance of the males. The -Empusa, when about to build her nest, has not the round belly of the -Praying Mantis, rendered heavy and inactive by her fertility. Her -slender figure, still capable of flight, announces a scanty progeny. -Her nest, fixed upon a straw, a twig, a chip of stone, is quite as -small a structure as that of the dwarf Mantis (Ameles decolor) and -measures two-fifths of an inch, at most, in length. The general shape -is that of a trapezoid, of which the shorter sides are, respectively, -sloping and slightly convex. As a rule, the sloping side is surmounted -by a thread-like appendage, similar to the final spur of the nests of -the Mantis and the Ameles, but finer in appearance. This is the last -drop of viscous matter, dried and drawn out. Builders, when their work -is finished, crown the edifice with a green bough and coloured -streamers. In much the same way, the Mantis tribe set up a mast on the -completed nest. - -A very thin grey-wash, formed of dried foam, covers the Empusa’s work, -especially on the upper surface. Under this delicate glaze, which is -easily rubbed off, the fundamental substance appears, homogeneous, -horny, pale-red. Six or seven hardly-perceptible furrows divide the -sides into curved sections. - -After the hatching, a dozen round orifices open on the top of the -building, in two alternate rows. These are the exit-doors for the young -larvæ. The slightly projecting rim is continued from each aperture to -the next in a sort of ribbon with a double row of alternating loops. It -is obvious that the windings of this ribbon are the result of an -oscillating movement of the ovipositor in labour. Those exit-holes, so -regular in shape and arrangement, completed by the lateral ribs of the -nest, present the appearance of two dainty mouth-organs placed in -juxtaposition. Each of them corresponds with a cell containing two -eggs. The eggs in all, therefore, amount to about a couple of dozen. - -I have not seen the hatching. I do not know whether, as in the Praying -Mantis, it is preceded by a transition-stage adapted to facilitate the -delivery. It may easily be that there is nothing of the kind, since -everything is so well-prepared for the exit. Above the cells is a very -short exit-hall, free of any obstacle. It is closed merely by a small -quantity of frothy, crumbly matter, which will readily yield to the -mandibles of the new-born larvæ. With this wide passage leading to the -outer air, long legs and slender antennæ cease to be embarrassing -appendages; and the tiny creature might well have the free use of them -from the moment of leaving the egg, without going through the primary -larval stage. Not having seen for myself, I merely mention the probable -course of things. - -One word more on comparative manners. The Mantis goes in for battle and -cannibalism; the Empusa is peaceable and respects her kind. To what -cause are these profound moral differences due, when the organic -structure is the same? Perhaps to the difference of diet. Frugality, in -fact, softens character, in animals as in men; gross feeding brutalizes -it. The gormandizer gorged with meat and strong drink, a fruitful -source of savage outbursts, could not possess the gentleness of the -ascetic who dips his bread into a cup of milk. The Mantis is that -gormandizer, the Empusa that ascetic. - -Granted. But whence does the one derive her voracious appetite, the -other her temperate ways, when it would seem as though their almost -identical structure ought to produce an identity of needs? These -insects tell us, in their fashion, what many have already told us: that -propensities and aptitudes do not depend exclusively upon anatomy; high -above the physical laws that govern matter rise other laws that govern -instincts. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE WHITE-FACED DECTICUS: HIS HABITS - - -The White-faced Decticus (D. albifrons, Fabr.) stands at the head of -the Grasshopper clan in my district, both as a singer and as an insect -of imposing presence. He has a grey costume, a pair of powerful -mandibles and a broad ivory face. Without being plentiful, he does not -let himself be sought in vain. In the height of summer we find him -hopping in the long grass, especially at the foot of the sunny rocks -where the turpentine-tree takes root. - -At the end of July I start a Decticus-menagerie. As a vivarium I adopt -a big wire-gauze cover standing on a bed of sifted earth. The -population numbers a dozen; and both sexes are equally represented. - -The question of victuals perplexes me for some time. It seems as though -the regulation diet ought to be a vegetable one, to judge by the -Locust, who consumes any green thing. I therefore offer my captives the -tastiest and tenderest garden-stuff that my enclosure holds: leaves of -lettuce, chicory and corn-salad. The Dectici scarcely touch it with a -contemptuous tooth. It is not the food for them. - -Perhaps something tough would suit their strong mandibles better. I try -various Graminaceæ, including the glaucous panic-grass, the miauco of -the Provençal peasant, the Setaria glauca of the botanists, a weed that -infests the fields after the harvest. The panic-grass is accepted by -the hungry ones, but it is not the leaves that they devour: they attack -only the ears, of which they crunch the still tender seeds with visible -satisfaction. The food is found, at least for the time being. We shall -see later. - -In the morning, when the rays of the sun visit the cage placed in the -window of my study, I serve out the day’s ration, a sheaf of green -spikes of common grass picked outside my door. The Dectici come running -up to the handful, gather round it and, very peaceably, without -quarrelling among themselves, dig with their mandibles between the -bristles of the spikes to extract and nibble the unripe seeds. Their -costume makes one think of a flock of Guinea-fowl pecking the grain -scattered by the farmer’s wife. When the spikes are robbed of their -tender seeds, the rest is scorned, however urgent the claims of hunger -may be. - -To break the monotony of the diet as much as is possible in these -dog-days, when everything is burnt up, I gather a thick-leaved, fleshy -plant which is not too sensitive to the summer heat. This is the common -purslane, another invader of our garden-beds. The new green stuff meets -with a good reception; and once again the Dectici dig their teeth not -into the leaves and the juicy stalks, but only into the swollen -capsules of half-formed grains. - -This taste for tender seeds surprises me: δηκτικός, biting, fond of -biting, the lexicon tells us. A name that expresses nothing, a mere -identification-number, is able to satisfy the nomenclator; in my -opinion, if the name possesses a characteristic meaning and at the same -time sounds well, it is all the better for it. Such is the case here. -The Decticus is eminently an insect given to biting. Mind your finger -if the sturdy Grasshopper gets hold of it: he will rip it till the -blood comes. - -And can this powerful jaw, of which I have to beware when I handle the -creature, possess no other function than to chew soft grains? Can a -mill like this have only to grind little unripe seeds? Something has -escaped me. So well-armed with mandibular pincers, so well-endowed with -masticatory muscles that swell out his cheeks, the Decticus must cut up -some leathery prey. - -This time I find the real diet, the fundamental if not the exclusive -one. Some good-sized Locusts are let into the cage. I put in it the -species mentioned in a note below, [41] now one, now the other, as they -happen to get caught in my net. A few Grasshoppers [42] are also -accepted, but not so readily. There is every reason to think that, if I -had had the luck to capture them, the entire Locust and Grasshopper -family would have met the same fate, provided that they were not too -insignificant in size. - -Any fresh meat tasting of Locust or Grasshopper suits my ogres. The -most frequent victim is the Blue-winged Locust. There is a deplorably -large consumption of this species in the cage. This is how things -happen: as soon as the game is introduced, an uproar ensues in the -mess-room, especially if the Dectici have been fasting for some time. -They stamp about and, hampered by their long shanks, dart forward -clumsily; the Locusts make desperate bounds, rush to the top of the -cage and there hang on, out of the reach of the Grasshopper, who is too -stout to climb so high. Some are seized at once, as soon as they enter. -The others, who have taken refuge up in the dome, are only postponing -for a little while the fate that awaits them. Their turn will come; and -that soon. Either because they are tired or because they are tempted by -the green stuff below, they will come down; and the Dectici will be -after them immediately. - -Speared by the hunter’s fore-legs, the game is first wounded in the -neck. It is always there, behind the head, that the Locust’s shell -cracks first of all; it is always there that the Decticus probes -persistently before releasing his hold and taking his subsequent meals -off whatever joint he chooses. - -It is a very judicious bite. The Locust is hard to kill. Even when -beheaded, he goes on hopping. I have seen some who, though half-eaten, -kick out desperately and succeed, with a supreme effort, in releasing -themselves and jumping away. In the brushwood, that would be so much -game lost. - -The Decticus seems to know all about it. To overcome his prey, so -prompt to escape by means of its two powerful levers, and to render it -helpless as quickly as possible, he first munches and extirpates the -cervical ganglia, the main seat of innervation. Is this an accident, in -which the assassin’s choice plays no part? No, for I see the murder -performed invariably in the same way when the prey is in possession of -its full strength; and again no, because, when the Locust is offered in -the form of a fresh corpse, or when he is weak, dying, incapable of -defence, the attack is made anywhere, at the first spot that presents -itself to the assailant’s jaws. In such cases the Decticus begins -either with a haunch, the favourite morsel, or with the belly, back or -chest. The preliminary bite in the neck is reserved for difficult -occasions. - -This Grasshopper, therefore, despite his dull intellect, possesses the -art of killing scientifically of which we have seen so many instances -elsewhere; [43] but with him it is a rude art, falling within the -knacker’s rather than the anatomist’s domain. - -Two or three Blue-winged Locusts are none too many for a Decticus’ -daily ration. It all goes down, save the wings and wing-cases, which -are disdained as too tough. In addition, there is a snack of tender -millet-grains stolen every now and again to make a change from the -banquet of game. They are big eaters, are my boarders; they surprise me -with their gormandizing and even more with their easy change from an -animal to a vegetable diet. - -With their accommodating and anything but particular stomachs, they -could render some slight service to agriculture, if there were more of -them. They destroy the Locusts, many of whom, even in our fields, are -of ill fame; and they nibble, amid the unripe corn, the seeds of a -number of plants which are obnoxious to the husbandman. - -But the Decticus’ claim to the honours of the vivarium rests upon -something much better than his feeble assistance in preserving the -fruits of the earth: in his song, his nuptials and his habits we have a -memorial of the remotest times. - -How did the insect’s ancestors live, in the palæozoic age? They had -their crude and uncouth side, banished from the better-proportioned -fauna of to-day; we catch a vague glimpse of habits now almost out of -use. It is unfortunate for our curiosity that the fossil remains are -silent on this magnificent subject. - -Luckily we have one resource left, that of consulting the successors of -the prehistoric insects. There is reason to believe that the Locustids -[44] of our own period have retained an echo of the ancient customs and -can tell us something of the manners of olden time. Let us begin by -questioning the Decticus. - -In the vivarium the sated herd are lying on their bellies in the sun -and blissfully digesting their food, giving no other sign of life than -a gentle swaying of the antennæ. It is the hour of the after-dinner -nap, the hour of enervating heat. From time to time a male gets up, -strolls solemnly about, raises his wing-cases slightly and utters an -occasional tick-tick. Then he becomes more animated, hurries the pace -of his tune and ends by grinding out the finest piece in his -repertoire. - -Is he celebrating his wedding? Is his song an epithalamium? I will make -no such statement, for his success is poor if he is really making an -appeal to his fair neighbours. Not one of his group of hearers gives a -sign of attention. Not a female stirs, not one moves from her -comfortable place in the sun. Sometimes the solo becomes a concerted -piece sung by two or three in chorus. The multiple invitation succeeds -no better. True, their impassive ivory faces give no indication of -their real feelings. If the suitors’ ditty indeed exercises any sort of -seduction, no outward sign betrays the fact. - -According to all appearances, the clicking is addressed to heedless -ears. It rises in a passionate crescendo until it becomes a continuous -rattle. It ceases when the sun vanishes behind a cloud and starts -afresh when the sun shows itself again; but it leaves the ladies -indifferent. - -She who was lying with her shanks outstretched on the blazing sand does -not change her position; her antennary threads give not a quiver more -and not a quiver less; she who was gnawing the remains of a Locust does -not let go the morsel, does not lose a mouthful. To look at those -heartless ones, you would really say that the singer was making a noise -for the mere pleasure of feeling himself alive. - -It is a very different matter when, towards the end of August, I -witness the start of the wedding. The couple finds itself standing face -to face quite casually, without any lyrical prelude whatever. -Motionless, as though turned to stone, with their foreheads almost -touching, the two exchange caresses with their long antennæ, fine as -hairs. The male seems somewhat preoccupied. He washes his tarsi; with -the tips of his mandibles he tickles the soles of his feet. From time -to time he gives a stroke of the bow: tick; no more. - -Yet one would think that this was the very moment at which to make the -most of his strong points. Why not declare his flame in a fond couplet, -instead of standing there, scratching his feet? Not a bit of it. He -remains silent in front of the coveted bride, herself impassive. - -The interview, a mere exchange of greetings between friends of -different sexes, does not last long. What do they say to each other, -forehead to forehead? Not much, apparently, for soon they separate with -nothing further; and each goes his way where he pleases. - -Next day, the same two meet again. This time, the song, though still -very brief, is in a louder key than on the day before, while being -still very far from the burst of sound to which the Decticus will give -utterance long before the pairing. For the rest, it is a repetition of -what I saw yesterday: mutual caresses with the antennæ, which limply -pat the well-rounded sides. - -The male does not seem greatly enraptured. He again nibbles his foot -and seems to be reflecting. Alluring though the enterprise may be, it -is perhaps not unattended with danger. Can there be a nuptial tragedy -here, similar to that which the Praying Mantis has shown us? Can the -business be exceptionally grave? Have patience and you shall see. For -the moment, nothing more happens. - -A few days later, a little light is thrown upon the subject. The male -is underneath, lying flat on the sand and towered over by his powerful -spouse, who, with her sabre exposed, standing high on her hind-legs, -overwhelms him with her embrace. No, indeed: in this posture the poor -Decticus has nothing of the victor about him! The other, brutally, -without respecting the musical-box, is forcing open his wing-cases and -nibbling his flesh just where the belly begins. - -Which of the two takes the initiative here? Have not the parts been -reversed? She who is usually provoked is now the provoker, employing -rude caresses capable of carrying off the morsel touched. She has not -yielded to him; she has thrust herself upon him, disturbingly, -imperiously. He, lying flat on the ground, quivers and starts, seems -trying to resist. What outrageous thing is about to happen? I shall not -know to-day. The floored male releases himself and runs away. - -But this time, at last, we have it. Master Decticus is on the ground, -tumbled over on his back. Hoisted to the full height of her shanks, the -other, holding her sabre almost perpendicular, covers her prostrate -mate from a distance. The two ventral extremities curve into a hook, -seek each other, meet; and soon from the male’s convulsive loins there -is seen to issue, in painful labour, something monstrous and -unheard-of, as though the creature were expelling its entrails in a -lump. - -It is an opalescent bag, similar in size and colour to a -mistletoe-berry, a bag with four pockets marked off by faint grooves, -two larger ones above and two smaller ones below. In certain cases the -number of cells increases and the whole assumes the appearance of a -packet of eggs such as Helix aspersa, the Common Snail, lays in the -ground. - -The strange concern remains hanging from the lower end of the sabre of -the future mother, who solemnly retires with the extraordinary wallet, -the spermatophore, as the physiologists call it, the source of life for -the ovules, in other words the cruet which will now in due course -transmit to the proper place the necessary complement for the evolution -of the germs. - -A capsule of this kind is a rare, an infinitely rare thing in the world -of to-day. So far as I know, the Cephalopods [45] and the Scolopendras -[46] are, in our time, the only other animals that make use of the -queer apparatus. Now Octopuses and Millepedes date back to the earliest -ages. The Decticus, another representative of the old world, seems to -tell us that what is a curious exception now might well have been a -more or less general rule originally, all the more so as we shall come -upon similar incidents in the case of the other Grasshoppers. - -When the male has recovered from his shock, he shakes the dust off -himself and once more begins his merry click-clack. For the present let -us leave him to his joys and follow the mother that is to be, pacing -along solemnly with her burden, which is fastened with a plug of jelly -as transparent as glass. - -At intervals she draws herself up on her shanks, curls into a ring and -seizes her opalescent load in her mandibles, nibbling it calmly and -squeezing it, but without tearing the wrapper or shedding any of the -contents. Each time, she removes from the surface a particle which she -chews and then chews again slowly, ending by swallowing it. - -This process is continued for twenty minutes or so. Then the capsule, -now drained, is torn off in a single piece, all but the jelly plug at -the end. The huge, sticky mass is not let go for a moment, but is -munched, ground and kneaded by the insect’s mandibles and at last -gulped down whole. - -At first I looked upon the horrible banquet as no more than an -individual aberration, an accident: the Decticus’ behaviour was so -extraordinary; no other instance of it was known to me. But I have had -to yield to the evidence of the facts. Four times in succession I -surprised my captives dragging their wallet and four times I saw them -soon tear it, work at it solemnly with their mandibles for hours on end -and finally gulp it down. It is therefore the rule: when its contents -have reached their destination, the fertilizing capsule, possibly a -powerful stimulant, an unparalleled dainty, is chewed, enjoyed and -swallowed. - -If this, as we are entitled to believe, is a relic of ancient manners, -we must admit that the insect of old had singular customs. Réaumur -tells us of the startling operations of the Dragon-flies when pairing. -This again is a nuptial eccentricity of primeval times. - -When the Decticus has finished her strange feast, the end of the -apparatus still remains in its place, the end whose most visible part -consists of two crystalline nipples the size of pepper-corns. To rid -itself of this plug, the insect assumes a curious attitude. The -ovipositor is driven half-way into the earth, perpendicularly. That -will be the prop. The long hind-legs straighten out, raise the creature -as high as possible and form a tripod with the sabre. - -Then the insect again curves itself into a complete circle and, with -its mandibles, crumbles to atoms the end of the apparatus, consisting -of a plug of clearest jelly. All these remnants are scrupulously -swallowed. Not a scrap must be lost. Lastly, the ovipositor is washed, -wiped, smoothed with the tips of the palpi. Everything is put in order -again; nothing remains of the cumbrous load. The normal pose is resumed -and the Decticus goes back to pilfering the ears of millet. - -To return to the male. Limp and exhausted, as though shattered by his -exploit, he remains where he is, all shrivelled and shrunk. He is so -motionless that I believe him dead. Not a bit of it! The gallant fellow -recovers his spirits, picks himself up, polishes himself and goes off. -A quarter of an hour later, when he has taken a few mouthfuls, behold -him stridulating once more. The tune is certainly lacking in spirit. It -is far from being as brilliant or prolonged as it was before the -wedding; but, after all, the poor old crock is doing his best. - -Can he have any further amorous pretensions? It is hardly likely. -Affairs of that kind, calling for ruinous expenditure, are not to be -repeated: it would be too much for the works of the organism. -Nevertheless, next day and every day after, when a diet of Locusts has -duly renewed his strength, the Decticus scrapes his bow as noisily as -ever. He might be a novice, instead of a glutted veteran. His -persistence surprises me. - -If he be really singing to attract the attention of his fair -neighbours, what would he do with a second wife, he who has just -extracted from his paunch a monstrous wallet in which all life’s -savings were accumulated? He is thoroughly used up. No, once more, in -the big Grasshopper these things are too costly to be done all over -again. To-day’s song, despite its gladness, is certainly no -epithalamium. - -And, if you watch him closely, you will see that the singer no longer -responds to the teasing of the passers’ antennæ. The ditties become -fainter from day to day and occur less frequently. In a fortnight the -insect is dumb. The dulcimer no longer sounds, for lack of vigour in -the player. - -At last the decrepit Decticus, who now scarcely touches food, seeks a -peaceful retreat, sinks to the ground exhausted, stretches out his -shanks in a last throe and dies. As it happens, the widow passes that -way, sees the deceased and, breathing eternal remembrance, gnaws off -one of his thighs. - -The Green Grasshopper behaves similarly. A couple isolated in a cage -are subjected to a special watch. I am present at the end of the -pairing, when the future mother is carrying, fixed to the point of her -sword, the pretty raspberry which will occupy our attention later. [47] -Debilitated by recent happenings, the male at this moment is mute. Next -day, his strength returns; and you hear him singing as ardently as -ever. He stridulates while the mother is scattering her eggs over the -ground; he goes on making a noise long after the laying is done and -when nothing more is wanted to perpetuate the race. - -It is quite clear that this persistent singing has not an amorous -appeal for its object: by this time, all of that is over, quite over. -Lastly, one day or another, life fails and the instrument is dumb. The -eager singer is no more. The survivor gives him a funeral copied from -that of the Decticus: she devours the best bits of him. She loved him -so much that she had to eat him up. - -These cannibal habits recur in most of the Grasshopper tribe, without -however equalling the atrocities of the Praying Mantis, who treats her -lovers as dead game while they are still full of life. The Decticus -mother, the Green Grasshopper and the rest at least wait until the poor -wretches are dead. - -I will except the Ephippiger, who is so meek in appearance. In my cage, -when laying-time is at hand, she has no scruples about taking a bite at -her companions, without possessing the excuse of hunger. Most of the -males end in this lamentable fashion, half-devoured. The mutilated -victim protests; he would rather, he could indeed go on living. Having -no other means of defence, he produces with his bow a few grating -sounds which this time decidedly are not a nuptial song. Dying with a -great hole in his belly, he utters his plaint in a like manner as -though he were rejoicing in the sun. His instrument strikes the same -note whether it express sorrow or gladness. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE WHITE-FACED DECTICUS: THE LAYING AND THE HATCHING OF THE EGGS - - -The White-faced Decticus is an African insect that in France hardly -ventures beyond the borders of Provence and Languedoc. She wants the -sun that ripens the olives. Can it be that a high temperature acts as a -stimulus to her matrimonial eccentricities, or are we to look upon -these as family customs, independent of climate? Do things happen under -frosty skies just as they do under a burning sun? - -I go for my information to another Decticus, the Alpine Analota (A. -alpina, Yersin), who inhabits the high ridges of Mont Ventoux, [48] -which are covered with snow for half the year. Many a time, during my -old botanical expeditions, I had noticed the portly insect hopping -among the stones from one bit of turf to the next. This time, I do not -go in search of it: it reaches me by post. Following my indications, an -obliging forester [49] climbs up there twice in the first fortnight of -August and brings me back the wherewithal to fill a cage comfortably. - -In shape and colouring it is a curious specimen of the Grasshopper -family. Satin-white underneath, it has the upper part sometimes -olive-black, sometimes bright-green or pale-brown. The organs of flight -are reduced to mere vestiges. The female has as wing-cases two short -white scales, some distance apart; the male shelters under the edge of -his corselet two little concave plates, also white, but laid one on top -of the other, the left on the right. - -These two tiny cupolas, with bow and sounding-board, rather suggest, on -a smaller scale, the musical instrument of the Ephippiger, whom the -mountain insect resembles to some extent in general appearance. - -I do not know what sort of tune cymbals so small as these can produce. -I do not remember ever hearing them in their native haunts; and three -months’ home breeding gives me no further information in this respect. -Though they lead a joyous life, my captives are always dumb. - -The exiles do not seem greatly to regret their cold peaks, among the -orange poppies and saxifrages of arctic climes. What used they to -browse upon up there? The Alpine meadow-grass, Mont-Cenis violets, -Allioni’s bell-flower? I do not know. In the absence of Alpine grasses, -I give them the common endive from my garden. They accept it without -hesitation. - -They also accept such Locusts as can offer only a feeble resistance; -and the diet alternates between animal and vegetable fare. They even -practise cannibalism. If one of my Alpine visitors limps and drags a -leg, the others eat him up. So far I have seen nothing striking: these -are the usual Grasshopper manners. - -The interesting sight is the pairing, which occurs suddenly, without -any prelude. The meeting takes place sometimes on the ground, sometimes -on the wirework of the cage. In the latter case, the sword-bearer, -firmly hooked to the trellis, supports the whole weight of the couple. -The other is back downwards, his head pointing to his mate’s tail. With -his long, fleshy-shanked hind-legs, he gets a grip of her sides; with -his four front legs, often also with his mandibles, he grasps and -squeezes the sabre, which projects slantwise. Thus hanging to this sort -of greased pole, he operates in space. - -When the meeting takes place on the ground, the couple occupy the same -position, only the male is lying on his back in the sand. In both cases -the result is an opal grain which, in the visible part of it, resembles -in shape and size the swollen end of a grape-pip. - -As soon as this object is in position, the male decamps at full speed. -Can he be in danger? Possibly, to judge from what I have seen. I admit -that I have seen it only once. - -The bride in this case was grappling with two rivals. One of them, -hanging to the sabre, was at work in due form behind; the other, in -front, tightly clawed and with his belly ripped open, was waving his -limbs in vain protest against the harpy crunching him impassively in -small mouthfuls. I had before my eyes, under even more atrocious -conditions, the horrors which the Praying Mantis had shown me in the -old days: unbridled rut; carnage and voluptuousness in one; a -reminiscence perhaps of ancient savagery. - -As a rule, the male, a dwarf by comparison with the female, hastens to -run away as soon as his task is consummated. The deserted one makes no -movement. Then, after waiting twenty minutes or so, she curves herself -into a ring and proceeds to enjoy the final banquet. She pulls the -sticky raisin-pip into shreds which are chewed with grave appreciation -and then gulped down. It takes her more than an hour to swallow the -thing. When not a crumb remains, she descends from the wire gauze and -mingles with the herd. Her eggs will be laid in a day or two. - -The proof is established. The matrimonial habits of the White-faced -Decticus are not an exception due to the heat of the climate: the -Grasshopper from the cold peaks shares them and surpasses them. - -We will return to the big Decticus with the ivory face. The laying -follows close upon the strange events which we have described. It is -done piecemeal, as the ovaries ripen. Firmly planted on her six legs, -the mother bends her abdomen into a semicircle and drives her sabre -perpendicularly into the soil, which, consisting in my cages of sifted -earth, presents no serious resistance. The ovipositor therefore -descends without hesitation and enters up to the hilt, that is to say, -to a depth of about an inch. - -For nearly fifteen minutes, absolute immobility. This is the time when -the eggs are being laid. At last the sabre comes up a little way and -the abdomen swings briskly from side to side, communicating an -alternate transversal movement to the implement. This tends to scrape -out and widen the sunken hole; it also has the effect of releasing from -the walls earthy materials which fill up the bottom of the cavity. -Thereupon the ovipositor, which is half in and half out, rams down this -dust. It comes up a short distance and then dips repeatedly, with a -sudden, jerky movement. We should work in the same way with a stick to -ram down the earth in a perpendicular hole. Thus alternating the -transversal swing of the sabre with the blows of the rammer, the mother -covers up the well pretty quickly. - -The external traces of the work have still to be done away with. The -insect’s legs, which I expected to see brought into play, remain -inactive and keep the position adopted for laying the eggs. The sabre -alone scratches, sweeps and smooths the ground with its point, very -clumsily, it must be admitted. - -Now all is in order. The abdomen and the ovipositor are restored to -their normal positions. The mother allows herself a moment’s rest and -goes to take a turn in the neighbourhood. Soon she comes back to the -site where she has already laid her eggs and, very near the original -spot, which she recognizes clearly, she drives in her tool afresh. The -same proceedings as before are repeated. - -Follow another rest, another exploration of the vicinity, another -return to the place already sown. For the third time the pointed stake -descends, only a very slight distance away from the previous hole. -During the brief hour that I am watching her, I see her resume her -laying five times, after breaking off to take a little stroll in the -neighbourhood; and the points selected are always very close together. - -On the following days, at varying intervals, the sowing is renewed for -a certain number of times which I am not able to state exactly. In the -case of each of these partial layings, the site changes, now here, now -there, as this or that spot is deemed the more propitious. - -When everything is finished, I examine the little pits in which the -Decticus placed her eggs. There are no packets in a foamy sheath, such -as the Locust supplies; no cells either. The eggs lie singly, without -any protection. I gather three score as the total product of one -mother. They are of a pale lilac-grey and are drawn out shuttlewise, in -a narrow ellipsoid five or six millimetres long. [50] - -The same isolation marks those of the Grey Decticus, which are black; -those of the Vine Ephippiger, which are ashen-grey; and those of the -Alpine Analota, which are pale-lilac. The eggs of the Green -Grasshopper, which are a very dark olive-brown and, like those of the -White-faced Decticus, about sixty in number, are sometimes arranged -singly and sometimes stuck together in little clusters. - -These different examples show us that the Grasshoppers plant with a -dibble. Instead of packing their seeds in little casks of hardened -foam, like the Locusts, they put them into the earth one by one or in -very small clusters. - -The hatching is worth examination; I will explain why presently. I -therefore gather plenty of eggs of the big Decticus at the end of -August and place them in a small glass jar with a layer of sand. -Without undergoing any apparent modification, they spend eight months -here under cover, sheltered from the frosts, the showers and the -overpowering heat of the sun that would await them under natural -conditions. - -When June comes, I often meet young Dectici in the fields. Some are -already half their adult size, which is evidence of an early appearance -dating back to the first fine days of the year. Nevertheless my jar -shows no signs of any imminent hatching. I find the eggs just as I -gathered them nine months ago, neither wrinkled nor tarnished, wearing, -on the contrary, a most healthy look. What causes this indefinitely -prolonged delay? - -A suspicion occurs to me. The eggs of the Grasshopper tribe are planted -in the earth like seeds. They are there exposed, without any kind of -protection, to the watery influence of the snow and the rain. Those in -my jar have spent two-thirds of the year in a state of comparative -dryness. Perhaps, in order to hatch, they lack what grain absolutely -needs in order to sprout. Animal seeds as they are, they may yet -require under earth the moisture necessary to vegetable seeds. Let us -try. - -I place at the bottom of some glass tubes, to enable me to make certain -observations which I have in mind, a pinch of backward eggs taken from -my collection; and on the top I heap lightly a layer of very fine, damp -sand. The receptacle is closed with a plug of wet cotton, which will -maintain a constant moisture in the interior. The column of sand -measures about an inch, which is very much the depth at which the -ovipositor places the eggs. Any one seeing my preparations and -unacquainted with their object would hardly suspect them of being -incubators; he would be more likely to think them the apparatus of a -botanist who was experimenting with seeds. - -My anticipation was correct. Favoured by the high temperature of the -summer solstice, the Grasshopper seed does not take long to sprout. The -eggs swell; the front end of each is spotted with two dark dots, the -rudiments of the eyes. It is quite evident that the bursting of the -shell is near at hand. - -I spend a fortnight in keeping a tedious watch at every hour of the -day: I have to surprise the young Decticus actually leaving the egg, if -I want to solve a question that has long been vexing my mind. The -question is this: the Grasshopper’s egg is buried at a varying depth, -according to the length of the ovipositor or dibble. An inch is about -the most for the seeds of the best-equipped insects in our parts. Now -the newborn Decticus, hopping awkwardly in the grass at the approach of -summer, is, like the adult, endowed with a pair of very long tentacles, -vying with hairs for slenderness; he carries behind him two -extraordinary legs, two enormous hinged levers, a pair of -jumping-stilts that would be very inconvenient for ordinary walking. -How does the feeble little creature set to work, with this cumbrous -luggage, to emerge from the earth? By what artifice does it manage to -clear a passage through the rough soil? With its antennary plumes, -which an atom of sand can break, with its immense shanks, which the -least effort is enough to disjoint, the mite is obviously incapable of -reaching the surface and freeing itself. - -The miner going underground puts on a protective dress. The little -Grasshopper also, making a hole in the earth in the opposite direction, -must don an overall for emerging from the earth; he must possess a -simpler, more compact transition-form, which enables him to come out -through the sand, a delivery-shape analogous to that which the Cicada -and the Praying Mantis use at the moment of issuing, one from his twig, -the other from the labyrinth of his nest. - -Reality and logic here agree. The Decticus, in point of fact, does not -leave the egg in the form in which I see him, the day after his birth, -hopping on the lawn; he possesses a temporary structure better-suited -to the difficulties of the emergence. Coloured a delicate flesh-white, -the tiny creature is cased in a scabbard which keeps the six legs -flattened against the abdomen, stretching backwards, inert. In order to -slip more easily under the ground, he has his shanks tied up beside his -body. The antennæ, those other irksome appendages, are motionless, -pressed against the parcel. - -The head is very much bent against the chest. With its big, black -ocular specks and its undecided and rather bloated mask, it suggests a -diver’s helmet. The neck opens wide at the back and, with a slow -throbbing, by turns swells and subsides. That is the motor. The -new-born insect moves along with the aid of its occipital hernia. When -uninflated, the fore-part pushes back the damp sand a little way and -slips into it by digging a tiny pit; then, blown out, it becomes a -knob, which moulds itself and finds a support in the depression -obtained. Then the rear-end contracts; and this gives a step forward. -Each thrust of the locomotive blister means nearly a millimetre [51] -traversed. - -It is pitiful to see this budding flesh, scarcely tinged with pink, -knocking with its dropsical neck and ramming the rough soil. The animal -glair, not yet quite hardened, struggles painfully with stone; and its -efforts are so well directed that, in the space of a morning, a gallery -opens, either straight or winding, an inch long and as wide as an -average straw. In this way the harassed insect reaches the surface. - -Half-caught in its exit-shaft, the disinterred one halts, waits for its -strength to return and then for the last time swells its occipital -hernia as far as it will go and bursts the sheath that has protected it -so far. The creature throws off its miner’s overall. - -Here at last is the Decticus in his youthful shape, quite pale still, -but darker the next day and a regular blackamoor compared with the -adult. As a prelude to the ivory face of a riper age, he sports a -narrow white stripe under his hinder thighs. - -Little Decticus, hatched before my eyes, life opens for you very -harshly! Many of your kindred must die of exhaustion before attaining -their freedom. In my tubes I see numbers who, stopped by a grain of -sand, succumb half-way and become furred with a sort of silky mildew. -The mouldy part soon absorbs their poor little remains. When performed -without my assistance, the coming to the light of day must be attended -with even greater dangers. The usual soil is coarse and baked by the -sun. Without a fall of rain, how do they manage, these immured ones? - -More fortunate in my tubes with their sifted and wetted mould, here you -are outside, you little white-striped nigger; you bite at the -lettuce-leaf which I have given you; you leap about gaily in the cage -where I have housed you. It would be easy to rear you, I can see, but -it would not give me much fresh information. Let us then part company. -I restore you to liberty. In return for what you have taught me, I -bestow upon you the grass and the Locusts in the garden. - -Thanks to you, I know that Grasshoppers, in order to leave the ground -in which the eggs are laid, possess a provisional shape, a primary -larval stage, which keeps those too cumbrous parts, the long legs and -antennæ, swathed in a common sheath; I know that this sort of mummy, -fit only to lengthen and shorten itself a little, has for an organ of -locomotion a hernia in the neck, a throbbing blister, an original piece -of mechanism which I have never seen used elsewhere as an aid to -progression. [52] - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE WHITE-FACED DECTICUS: THE INSTRUMENT OF SOUND - - -Art has three fields which it may cultivate in the realm of natural -objects: form, colour and sound. The sculptor uses form and imitates -its perfection in so far as the chisel is able to imitate life. The -draughtsman, likewise a copyist, seeks in black and white to give the -illusion of relief on a flat surface. To the difficulties of drawing -the painter adds those of colour, which are no less great. - -An inexhaustible model sits to all three. Rich though the painter’s -palette be, it will always be inferior to that of reality. Nor will the -sculptor’s chisel ever exhaust the treasures of the plastic art in -nature. Form and colour, beauty of outline and play of light: these are -all taught by the contemplation of actual things. They are imitated, -they are combined according to our tastes, but they are not invented. - -On the other hand, our music has no prototype in the symphony of -created things. Certainly there is no lack of sounds, faint or loud, -sweet and solemn. The wind roaring through the storm-tossed woods, the -waves curling and breaking on the beach, the thunder growling in the -echoing clouds stir us with their majestic notes; the breeze filtering -through the tiny foliage of the pine-trees, the Bees humming over the -spring flowers charm every ear endowed with any delicacy; but these are -monotonous noises, with no connection. Nature has superb sounds; she -has no music. - -Howling, braying, grunting, neighing, bellowing, bleating, yelping: -these exhaust the phonetics of our near neighbours in organization. A -musical score composed of such elements would be called a hullabaloo. -Man, forming a striking exception at the top of the scale of these -makers of raucous noises, took it into his head to sing. An attribute -which no other shares with him, the attribute of coordinated sounds -whence springs the incomparable gift of speech, led him on to -scientific vocal exercises. In the absence of a model, it must have -been a laborious apprenticeship. - -When our prehistoric ancestor, to celebrate his return from hunting the -Mammoth, intoxicated himself with sour tipple brewed from raspberries -and sloes, what can have issued from his hoarse larynx? An orthodox -melody? Certainly not; hoarse shouts, rather, capable of shaking the -roof of his cave. The loudness of the cry constituted its merit. The -primitive song is found to this day when men’s throats are fired in -taverns instead of caverns. - -And this tenor, with his crude vocal efforts, was already an adept at -guiding his pointed flint to engrave on ivory the effigy of the -monstrous animal which he had captured; he knew how to embellish his -idol’s cheeks with red chalk; he knew how to paint his own face with -coloured grease. There were plenty of models for form and colour but -none for rhythmic sounds. - -With progress came the musical instrument, as an adjunct to those first -guttural attempts. Men blew down tubes taken all in one piece from the -sappy branches; they produced sounds from the barley-stalks and made -whistles out of reeds. The shell of a Snail, held between two fingers -of the closed fist, imitated the Partridge’s call; a trumpet formed of -a wide strip of bark rolled into a horn reproduced the bellowing of the -Bull; a few gut-strings stretched across the empty shell of a calabash -grated out the first notes of our stringed instruments; a Goat’s -bladder, fixed on a solid frame, was the original drum; two flat -pebbles struck together at measured intervals led the way for the click -of the castagnettes. Such must have been the primitive musical -materials, materials still preserved by the child, which, with its -simplicity in things artistic, is so strongly reminiscent of the big -child of yore. - -Classical antiquity knew no others, as witness the shepherds of -Theocritus and Virgil. - - - Silvestrem tenui musam meditaris avena, - - -says Meliboeus to Tityrus. [53] - -What are we to make of this oat-straw, this frail shepherd’s pipe, as -they used to make us translate it in my young days? Did the poet write -avena tenui by way of a rhetorical figure, or was he describing a -reality? I vote for the reality, having myself in the old days heard a -concert of shepherd’s pipes. - -It was in Corsica, at Ajaccio. In gratitude for a handful of -sugar-plums, some small boys of the neighbourhood came one day and -serenaded me. Quite unexpectedly, in gusts of untutored harmony, -strange sounds of rare sweetness reached my ears. I ran to the window. -There stood the orchestra, none taller than a jack-boot, gathered -solemnly in a ring, with the leader in the middle. Most of them had at -their lips a green onion-stem, distended spindlewise; others a stubble -straw, a bit of reed not yet hardened by maturity. - -They blew into these, or rather they sang a vocero, to a grave measure, -perhaps a relic of the Greeks. Certainly, it was not music as we -understand it; still less was it a meaningless noise; but it was a -vague, undulating melody, abounding in artless irregularities, a medley -of pretty sounds in which the sibilations of the straw threw into -relief the bleating of the swollen stalks. I stood amazed at the -onion-stem symphony. Very much so must the shepherds of the eclogue -have gone to work, avena tenui; very much so must the bridal -epithalamium have been sung in the Reindeer period. - -Yes, the simple melody of my Corsican youngsters, a real humming of -Bees on the rosemaries, has left a lasting trace in my memory. I can -hear it now. It taught me the value of the rustic pipes, once so -constantly celebrated in a literature that is now old-fashioned. How -far removed are we from those simple joys! To charm the populace in -these days you need ophicleides, saxhorns, trombones, cornets, every -imaginable sort of brass, with big drums and little drums and, to beat -time, a gun-shot. That’s what progress does. - -Three-and-twenty centuries ago, Greece assembled at Delphi for the -festivals of the sun, Phœbus with the golden locks. Thrilled with -religious emotion she listened to the Hymn of Apollo, a melody of a few -lines, barely supported here and there by a scanty chord on the flute -and cithara. Hailed as a masterpiece, the sacred song was engraved on -marble tablets which the archæologists have recently exhumed. - -The venerable strains, the oldest in musical records, have been heard -in my time in the ancient theatre at Orange, a ruin in stone worthy of -that ruin of sound. I was not present at the performance, being kept -away by my habit of running to the west whenever there are fireworks in -the east. One of my friends, a man gifted with a very sensitive ear, -went; and he said to me afterwards: - -“There were probably ten thousand people forming the audience in the -enormous amphitheatre. I very much doubt whether one of them understood -that music of another age. As for me, I felt as if I were listening to -a blind man’s plaintive ditty and I looked round involuntarily for the -dog holding the cup.” - -The barbarian, to turn the Greek masterpiece into a stupid wail! Was it -irreverence on his part? No, but it was incapacity. His ear, trained in -accordance with other rules, was unable to take pleasure in artless -sounds which had become strange and even disagreeable owing to their -great age. What my friend lacked, what we all lack is the perception of -those primitive niceties which have been stifled by the centuries. To -enjoy the Hymn to Apollo, we should have to go back to the simplicity -of soul which one day made me think the buzzing of the onion-stalks -delightful. And that we shall never do. - -But, if our music need not draw its inspiration from the Delphic -marbles, our statuary and our architecture will always find models of -incomparable perfection in the work of the Greeks. The art of sounds, -having no prototype imposed on it by natural facts, is liable to -change: with our fickle tastes, that which is perfect in music to-day -becomes vulgar and commonplace to-morrow. The art of forms, on the -contrary, being based on the immutable foundation of reality, always -sees the beautiful where previous centuries saw it. - -There is no musical type anywhere, not even in the song of the -Nightingale, celebrated by Buffon [54] in grandiloquent terms. I have -no wish to shock anybody; but why should I not give my opinion? -Buffon’s style and the Nightingale’s song both leave me cold. The first -has too much rhetoric about it and not enough sincere emotion. The -second, a magnificent jewel-case of ill-assorted pearls of sound, makes -so slight an appeal to the soul that a penny jug, filled with water and -furnished with a whistle, will enable the lips of a child to reproduce -the celebrated songster’s finest trills. A little earthenware machine, -warbling at the player’s will, rivals the Nightingale. - -Above the bird, that glorious production of a vibrating air-column, -creatures roar and bray and grunt, until we come to man, who alone -speaks and really sings. Below the bird, they croak or are silent. The -bellows of the lungs have two efflorescences separated by enormous -empty spaces filled with formless sounds. Lower down still is the -insect, which is much earlier in date. This first-born of the dwellers -on the earth is also the first singer. Deprived of the breath which -could set the vocal cords vibrating, it invents the bow and friction, -of which man is later to make such wonderful use. - -Various Beetles produce a noise by sliding one rugged surface over -another. The Capricorn moves his corseleted segment over its junction -with the rest of the thorax; the Pine Cockchafer, [55] with his great -fan-shaped antennæ, rubs his last dorsal segment with the edge of his -wing-cases; the Copris [56] and many more know no other method. To tell -the truth, these scrapers do not produce a musical sound, but rather a -creaking like that of a weathercock on its rusty pin, a thin, sharp -sound with no resonance in it. - -Among these inexperienced scrapers, I will select the Bolboceras (B. -gallicus, Muls.), [57] as deserving honourable mention. Round as a -ball, sporting a horn on his forehead, like the Spanish Copris, whose -stercoral tastes he does not share, this pretty Beetle loves the -pine-woods in my neighbourhood and digs himself a burrow in the sand, -leaving it in the evening twilight with the gentle chirp of a well-fed -nestling under its mother’s wing. Though habitually silent, he makes a -noise at the least disturbance. A dozen of him imprisoned in a box will -provide you with a delightful symphony, very faint, it is true: you -have to hold the box close to your ear to hear it. Compared with him, -the Capricorn, Copris, Pine Cockchafer and the rest are rustic -fiddlers. In their case, after all, it is not singing, but rather an -expression of fear, I might almost say, a cry of anguish, a moan. The -insect utters it only in a moment of danger and never, so far as I -know, at the time of its wedding. - -The real musician, who expresses his gladness by strokes of the bow and -cymbals, dates much farther back. He preceded the insects endowed with -a superior organization, the Beetle, the Bee, the Fly, the Butterfly, -who prove their higher rank by complete transformations; he is closely -connected with the rude beginnings of the geological period. The -singing insect, in fact, belongs exclusively either to the order of the -Hemiptera, including the Cicadæ, or to that of the Orthoptera, -including the Grasshoppers and Crickets. Its incomplete metamorphoses -link it with those primitive races whose records are inscribed in our -coal-seams. It is one of the first that mingled the sounds of life with -the vague murmuring of inert things. It was singing before the reptile -had learnt to breathe. - -This shows, from the mere point of view of sound, the futility of those -theories of ours which try to explain the world by the automatic -evolution of progress nascent in the primitive cell. All is yet dumb; -and already the insect is stridulating as correctly as it does to-day. -Phonetics start with an apparatus which the ages will hand down to one -another without changing any essential part of it. Then, though the -lungs have appeared, we have silence, save for the heavy breathing of -the nostrils. But lo, one day, the Frog croaks; and soon, with no -preparation, there are mingled with this hideous concert the trills of -the Quail, the whistled stanzas of the Thrush and the Warbler’s musical -strains. The larynx in its highest form has come into existence. What -will the late-comers do with it? The Ass and the Wild Boar give us our -reply. We find something worse than marking time, we find an enormous -retrogression, until one last bound brings us to man’s own larynx. - -In this genesis of sounds it is impossible to talk authoritatively of a -steady progression which makes the middling follow on the bad and the -excellent on the middling. We see nothing but abrupt excursions, -intermittences, recoils, sudden expansions not foretold by what has -gone before nor continued by that which follows; we find nothing but a -riddle whose solution does not lie in the virtues of the cell alone, -that easy pillow for whoso has not the courage to search deeper. - -But let us leave the question of origins, that inaccessible domain, and -come down to facts; let us cross-examine a few representatives of those -old races who were the earliest exponents of the art of sounds and took -it into their heads to sing at a time when the mud of the first -continents was hardening; let us ask them how their instrument is -constructed and what is the object of their ditty. - -The Grasshopper, so remarkable both for the length and thickness of her -hinder thighs and for her ovipositor, the sabre or dibble which plants -her eggs, is one of the chief performers in the entomological concert. -Indeed, if we except the Cicada, who is often confused with her, she is -responsible for the greater part of the noise. Only one of the -Orthoptera surpasses her; and that is the Cricket, her near neighbour. -Let us first listen to the White-faced Decticus. - -The performance begins with a hard, sharp, almost metallic sound, very -like that emitted by the Thrush keeping a sharp look-out while he -stuffs himself with olives. It consists of a series of isolated notes, -tick-tick, with a longish pause between them. Then, with a gradual -crescendo, the song develops into a rapid clicking in which the -fundamental tick-tick is accompanied by a continuous droning bass. At -the end the crescendo becomes so loud that the metallic note disappears -and the sound is transformed into a mere rustle, a frrrr-frrrr-frrrr of -the greatest rapidity. - -The performer goes on like this for hours, with alternating strophes -and rests. In calm weather, the song, at its height, can be heard -twenty steps away. That is no great distance. The noise made by the -Cicada and the Cricket carries much farther. - -How are the strains produced? The books which I am able to consult -leave me perplexed. They tell me of the “mirror,” a thin, quivering -membrane which glistens like a blade of mica; but how is this membrane -made to vibrate? That is what they either do not tell us or else tell -us very vaguely and inaccurately, talking of a friction of the -wing-cases, mutual rubbing of the nervures; and that is all. - -I should like a more lucid explanation, for a Grasshopper’s -musical-box, I feel certain in advance, must have an exact mechanism of -its own. Let us therefore look into the matter, even though we have to -repeat observations already perhaps made by others, but unknown to a -recluse like myself, whose whole library consists of a few old odd -volumes. - -The Decticus’ wing-cases widen at the base and form on the insect’s -back a flat sunken surface shaped like an elongated triangle. This is -the sounding-board. Here the left wing-case folds over the right and, -when at rest, completely covers the latter’s musical apparatus. The -most distinct and, from time immemorial, the best-known part of it is -the mirror, thus called because of the shininess of its thin oval -membrane, set in the frame of a nervure. It is very like the skin of a -drum, of an exquisitely delicate tympanum, with this difference, that -it sounds without being tapped. Nothing touches the mirror when the -Decticus sings. Its vibrations are imparted to it after starting -elsewhere. And how? I will tell you. - -Its edging is prolonged at the inner angle of the base by a wide, blunt -tooth, furnished at the end with a more prominent and powerful fold -than the other nervures distributed here and there. I will call this -fold the friction-nervure. This is the starting-point of the concussion -that makes the mirror resound. The evidence will appear when the -remainder of the apparatus is known. - -This remainder, the motor mechanism, is on the left wing-case, covering -the other with its flat edge. Outside, there is nothing remarkable, -unless it be—and even then one has to be on the look-out for it—a sort -of slightly slanting, transversal pad, which might very easily be taken -for a thicker nervure than the others. - -But examine the lower surface through the magnifying-glass. The pad is -much more than an ordinary nervure. It is an instrument of the highest -precision, a magnificent indented bow, marvellously regular on its -diminutive scale. Never did human industry, when cutting metal for the -most delicate clockwork mechanism, achieve such perfection. Its shape -is that of a curved spindle. From one end to the other there have been -cut across this bow about eighty triangular teeth, which are very even -and are of some hard, durable material, dark-brown in colour. - -The use of this mechanical gem is obvious. If we take a dead Decticus -and lift the flat rim of the two wing-cases slightly in order to place -them in the position which they occupy when sounding, we see the bow -fitting its indentations to the terminal nervure which I have called -the friction-nervure; we follow the line of teeth which, from end to -end of the row, never swerve from the points to be set in motion; and, -if the operation be done at all dexterously, the dead insect sings, -that is to say, strikes a few of its clicking notes. - -The secret of the sounds produced by the Decticus is out. The toothed -bow of the left wing-case is the motor; the friction-nervure of the -right wing-case is the point of concussion; the stretched membrane of -the mirror is the resonator, to which vibration is communicated by the -shaking of the surrounding frame. Our own music has many vibrating -membranes; but these are always affected by direct percussion. Bolder -than our makers of musical instruments, the Decticus combines the bow -with the drum. - -The same combination is found in the other Grasshoppers. The most -famous of these is the Green Grasshopper (Locusta viridissima, Lin.), -who to the qualities of a handsome stature and a fine green colour adds -the honour of classical renown. In La Fontaine she is the Cicada who -comes alms-begging of the Ant when the north wind blows. Flies and -Grubs being scarce, the would-be borrower asks for a few grains to live -upon until next summer. The double diet, animal and vegetable, is a -very happy inspiration on the fabulist’s part. - -The Grasshopper, in fact, has the same tastes as the Decticus. In my -cages, he feeds on lettuce-leaves when there is nothing better going; -but his preference is all in favour of the Locust, whom he crunches up -without leaving anything but the wing-cases and wings. In a state of -liberty, his preying on that ravenous browser must largely make up to -us for the small toll which he levies on our agricultural produce. - -Except in a few details, his musical instrument is the same as that of -the Decticus. It occupies, at the base of the wing-cases, a large -sunken surface shaped like a curved triangle and brownish in colour, -with a dull-yellow rim. It is a sort of escutcheon, emblazoned with -heraldic devices. On the under surface of the left wing-case, which is -folded over the right, two transversal, parallel grooves are cut. The -space between them makes a ridge which constitutes the bow. The latter, -a brown spindle, has a set of fine, very regular and very numerous -teeth. The mirror of the right wing-case is almost circular, well -framed and supplied with a strong and prominent friction-nervure. - -The insect stridulates in July and August, in the evening twilight, -until close upon ten o’clock. It produces a quick, rattling noise, -accompanied by a faint metallic clicking which barely passes the border -of perceptible sounds. The abdomen, considerably lowered, throbs and -beats the measure. This goes on for irregular periods and suddenly -ceases; in between these periods there are false starts reduced to a -few strokes of the bow; there are pauses and then the stridulation is -once more in full swing. - -All said, it is a very meagre performance, greatly inferior in volume -to that of the Decticus, not to be compared with the song of the -Cricket and even less with the harsh and noisy efforts of the Cicada. -In the quiet of the evening, when only a few steps away, I need little -Paul’s delicate ear to apprise me of it. - -It is poorer still in the two dwarf Dectici of my neighbourhood, -Platycleis intermedia, Serv., and P. grisea, Fab., both of whom are -common in the long grass, where the ground is stony and exposed to the -sun, and quick to disappear in the undergrowth when you try to catch -them. These two fat songsters have each had the doubtful privilege of a -place in my cages. - -Here, in a blazing sun beating straight upon the window, are my little -Dectici crammed with green millet-seeds and also with game. Most of -them are lying in the hottest places, on their bellies or sides, with -their hind-legs outstretched. For hours on end they digest without -moving and slumber in their voluptuous attitude. Some of them sing. Oh, -what a feeble song! - -The ditty of the Intermediary Decticus, with its strophes and pauses -alternating at equal intervals, is a rapid fr-r-r-r similar to the -Coaltit’s, while that of the Grey Decticus consists of distinct strokes -of the bow and tends to copy the Cricket’s melody, with a note which is -hoarser and, in particular, much fainter. In both cases, the feebleness -of the sound hardly allows me to hear the singer a couple of yards -away. - -And to produce this music, this insignificant and only just perceptible -refrain, the two dwarfs have all that their big cousin possesses: a -toothed bow, a tambourine, a friction-nervure. On the bow of the Grey -Decticus I count about forty teeth and eighty on that of the -Intermediary Decticus. Moreover, in both, the right wing-case displays, -around the mirror, a few diaphanous spaces, intended no doubt to -increase the extent of the vibrating portion. It makes no difference: -though the instrument is magnificent, the production of sound is very -poor. - -With this same mechanism of a drum and file, which of them will achieve -any progress? Not one of the large-winged Locustidæ succeeds in doing -so. All, from the biggest, the Grasshoppers, Dectici and Conocephali, -down to the smallest, the Platycleis, Xiphidion and Phaneropteron, set -in motion with the teeth of a bow the frame of a vibrating-mirror; all -are, so to speak, left-handed, that is to say, they carry the bow on -the lower surface of the left wing-case, overlapping the right, which -is furnished with the tympanum; all, lastly, have a thin, faint trill -which is sometimes hardly perceptible. - -One alone, modifying the details of the apparatus without introducing -any innovation into the general structure, achieves a certain power of -sound. This is the Vine Ephippiger, who does without wings and reduces -his wing-cases to two concave scales, elegantly fluted and fitting one -into the other. These two disks are all that remains of the organs of -flight, which have become exclusively organs of song. The insect -abandons flying to devote itself the better to stridulation. - -It shelters its instrument under a sort of dome formed by the corselet, -which is curved saddlewise. As usual, the left scale occupies the upper -position and bears on its lower surface a file in which we can -distinguish with the lens eighty transversal denticulations, more -powerful and more clearly cut than those possessed by any other of the -Grasshopper tribe. The right scale is underneath. At the top of its -slightly flattened dome, the mirror gleams, framed in a strong nervure. - -For elegance of structure, this instrument is superior to the Cicada’s, -in which the contraction of two columns of muscles alternately pulls in -and lets out the convex surface of two barren cymbals. It needs -sound-chambers, resonators, to become a noisy apparatus. As things are, -it emits a lingering and plaintive tchi-i-i, tchi-i-i, tchi-i-i, in a -minor key, which is heard even farther than the blithe bowing of the -White-faced Decticus. - -When disturbed in their repose, the Decticus and the other Grasshoppers -at once become silent, struck dumb with fear. With them, singing -invariably expresses gladness. The Ephippiger also dreads to be -disturbed and baffles with his sudden silence whoso seeks to find him. -But take him between your fingers. Often he will resume his -stridulation with erratic strokes of the bow. At such times the song -denotes anything but happiness, fear rather and all the anguish of -danger. The Cicada likewise rattles more shrilly than ever when a -ruthless child dislocates his abdomen and forces open his chapels. In -both cases, the gay refrain of the mirthful insect turns into the -lamentation of a persecuted victim. - -A second peculiarity of the Ephippiger’s, unknown to the other singing -insects, is worthy of remark. Both sexes are endowed with the -sound-producing apparatus. The female, who, in the other Grasshoppers, -is always dumb, with not even a vestige of bow or mirror, acquires in -this instance a musical instrument which is a close copy of the male’s. - -The left scale covers the right. Its edges are fluted with thick, pale -nervures, forming a fine-meshed network; the centre, on the other hand, -is smooth and swells into an amber-coloured dome. Underneath, this dome -is supplied with two concurrent nervures, the chief of which is -slightly wrinkled on its ridge. The right scale is similarly -constructed, but for one detail: the central dome, which also is -amber-coloured, is traversed by a nervure which describes a sort of -sinuous line and which, under the magnifying-glass, reveals very fine -transversal teeth throughout the greater part of its length. - -This feature betrays the bow, placed in the inverse position to that -which is known to us. The male is left-handed and works with his upper -wing-case; the female is right-handed and scrapes with her lower -wing-case. Besides, with her, there is no such thing as a mirror, that -is to say, no shiny membrane resembling a flake of mica. The bow rubs -across the rough vein of the opposite scale and in this way produces -simultaneous vibration in the two fitted spherical domes. - -The vibrating part is double, therefore, but too stiff and clumsy to -produce a sound of any depth. The song, in any case rather thin, is -even more plaintive than the male’s. The insect is not lavish with it. -If I do not interfere, my captives never add their note to the concert -of their caged companions; on the other hand, when seized and worried, -they utter a moan at once. It seems likely that, in a state of liberty, -things happen otherwise. The dumb beauties in my bell-jars are not for -nothing endowed with a double cymbal and a bow. The instrument that -moans with fright must also ring out joyously on occasion. - -What purpose is served by the Grasshopper’s sound-apparatus? I will not -go so far as to refuse it a part in the pairing, or to deny it a -persuasive murmur, sweet to her who hears it: that would be flying in -the face of the evidence. But this is not its principal function. -Before anything else, the insect uses it to express its joy in living, -to sing the delights of existence with a belly well filled and a back -warmed by the sun, as witness the big Decticus and the male -Grasshopper, who, after the wedding, exhausted for good and all and -taking no further interest in pairing, continue to stridulate merrily -as long as their strength holds out. - -The Grasshopper tribe has its bursts of gladness; it has moreover the -advantage of being able to express them with a sound, the simple -satisfaction of the artist. The little journeyman whom I see in the -evening returning from the workyard on his way home, where his supper -awaits him, whistles and sings for his own pleasure, with no intention -of making himself heard, nor any wish to attract an audience. In his -artless and almost unconscious fashion, he tells the joys of a hard -day’s work done and of his plateful of steaming cabbage. Even so most -often does the singing insect stridulate: it is celebrating life. - -Some go farther. If existence has its sweets, it also has its sorrows. -The saddle-bearing Grasshopper of the vines is able to translate both -of these into sound. In a trailing melody, he sings to the bushes of -his happiness; in a like melody, hardly altered, he pours forth his -griefs and his fears. His mate, herself an instrumentalist, shares this -privilege. She exults and laments with two cymbals of another pattern. - -When all is said, the cogged drum need not be looked down upon. It -enlivens the lawns, murmurs the joys and tribulations of existence, -sends the lover’s call echoing all around, brightens the weary waiting -of the lonely ones, tells of the perfect blossoming of insect life. Its -stroke of the bow is almost a voice. - -And this magnificent gift, so full of promise, is granted only to the -inferior races, coarse natures, near akin to the crude beginnings of -the carboniferous period. If, as we are told, the superior insect -descends from ancestors who have been gradually transformed, why did it -not preserve that fine inheritance of a voice which has sounded from -the earliest ages? - -Can it be that the theory of progressive acquirements is only a -specious lure? Are we to abandon the savage theory of the crushing of -the weak by the strong, of the less well-endowed by their more -highly-gifted rivals? Is it permissible to doubt, when the -evolutionists talk to us of the survival of the fittest? Yes, indeed it -is! - -We are told as much by a certain Libellula of the carboniferous age -(Meganeura Monyi, Brong.), measuring over two feet across the wings. -The giant Dragon-fly, who terrified the small winged folk with her -sawlike mandibles, has disappeared, whereas the puny Agrion, with her -bronze or azure abdomen, still hovers over the reeds of our rivers. - -So have her contemporaries disappeared, the monstrous sauroid fishes, -mailed in enamel and armed to the teeth. Their scarce successors are -mere abortions. The splendid series of Cephalopods with partitioned -shells, including certain Ammonites of the diameter of a cartwheel, has -no other representative in our present seas than that modest fireman’s -helmet, the Nautilus. The Megalosaurus, a saurian twenty-five yards -long, was a more alarming figure in our country-sides than the Grey -Lizard of the walls. One of man’s contemporaries, that monumental beast -the Mammoth, is known only by his remains; and his near kinsman the -Elephant, a mere Sheep beside him, goes on prospering. What a shock to -the law of the survival of the strongest! The mighty have gone under; -and the weak fill their place. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE GREEN GRASSHOPPER - - -We are in the middle of July. The astronomical dog-days are just -beginning; but in reality the torrid season has anticipated the -calendar and for some weeks past the heat has been overpowering. - -This evening in the village they are celebrating the National Festival. -[58] While the little boys and girls are hopping around a bonfire whose -gleams are reflected upon the church-steeple, while the drum is pounded -to mark the ascent of each rocket, I am sitting alone in a dark corner, -in the comparative coolness that prevails at nine o’clock, harking to -the concert of the festival of the fields, the festival of the harvest, -grander by far than that which, at this moment, is being celebrated in -the village square with gun-powder, lighted torches, Chinese lanterns -and, above all, strong drink. It has the simplicity of beauty and the -repose of strength. - -It is late; and the Cicadæ are silent. Glutted with light and heat, -they have indulged in symphonies all the livelong day. The advent of -the night means rest for them, but a rest frequently disturbed. In the -dense branches of the plane-trees, a sudden sound rings out like a cry -of anguish, strident and short. It is the desperate wail of the Cicada, -surprised in his quietude by the Green Grasshopper, that ardent -nocturnal huntress, who springs upon him, grips him in the side, opens -and ransacks his abdomen. An orgy of music, followed by butchery. - -I have never seen and never shall see that supreme expression of our -national revelry, the military review at Longchamp; nor do I much -regret it. The newspapers tell me as much about it as I want to know. -They give me a sketch of the site. I see, installed here and there amid -the trees, the ominous Red Cross, with the legend, “Military Ambulance; -Civil Ambulance.” There will be bones broken, apparently; cases of -sunstroke; regrettable deaths, perhaps. It is all provided for and all -in the programme. - -Even here, in my village, usually so peaceable, the festival will not -end, I am ready to wager, without the exchange of a few blows, that -compulsory seasoning of a day of merry-making. No pleasure, it appears, -can be fully relished without an added condiment of pain. - -Let us listen and meditate far from the tumult. While the disembowelled -Cicada utters his protest, the festival up there in the plane-trees is -continued with a change of orchestra. It is now the time of the -nocturnal performers. Hard by the place of slaughter, in the green -bushes, a delicate ear perceives the hum of the Grasshoppers. It is the -sort of noise that a spinning-wheel makes, a very unobtrusive sound, a -vague rustle of dry membranes rubbed together. Above this dull bass -there rises, at intervals, a hurried, very shrill, almost metallic -clicking. There you have the air and the recitative, intersected by -pauses. The rest is the accompaniment. - -Despite the assistance of a bass, it is a poor concert, very poor -indeed, though there are about ten executants in my immediate vicinity. -The tone lacks intensity. My old tympanum is not always capable of -perceiving these subtleties of sound. The little that reaches me is -extremely sweet and most appropriate to the calm of twilight. Just a -little more breadth in your bow-stroke, my dear Green Grasshopper, and -your technique would be better than the hoarse Cicada’s, whose name and -reputation you have been made to usurp in the countries of the north. - -Still, you will never equal your neighbour, the little bell-ringing -Toad, who goes tinkling all round, at the foot of the plane-trees, -while you click up above. He is the smallest of my batrachian folk and -the most venturesome in his expeditions. - -How often, at nightfall, by the last glimmers of daylight, have I not -come upon him as I wandered through my garden, hunting for ideas! -Something runs away, rolling over and over in front of me. Is it a dead -leaf blown along by the wind? No, it is the pretty little Toad -disturbed in the midst of his pilgrimage. He hurriedly takes shelter -under a stone, a clod of earth, a tuft of grass, recovers from his -excitement and loses no time in picking up his liquid note. - -On this evening of national rejoicing, there are nearly a dozen of him -tinkling against one another around me. Most of them are crouching -among the rows of flower-pots that form a sort of lobby outside my -house. Each has his own note, always the same, lower in one case, -higher in another, a short, clear note, melodious and of exquisite -purity. - -With their slow, rhythmical cadence, they seem to be intoning litanies. -Cluck, says one; click, responds another, on a finer note; clock, adds -a third, the tenor of the band. And this is repeated indefinitely, like -the bells of the village pealing on a holiday: cluck, click, clock; -cluck, click, clock! - -The batrachian choristers remind me of a certain harmonica which I used -to covet when my six-year-old ear began to awaken to the magic of -sounds. It consisted of a series of strips of glass of unequal length, -hung on two stretched tapes. A cork fixed to a wire served as a hammer. -Imagine an unskilled hand striking at random on this key-board, with a -sudden clash of octaves, dissonances and topsy-turvy chords; and you -will have a pretty clear idea of the Toads’ litany. - -As a song, this litany has neither head nor tail to it; as a collection -of pure sounds, it is delicious. This is the case with all the music in -nature’s concerts. Our ear discovers superb notes in it and then -becomes refined and acquires, outside the realities of sound, that -sense of order which is the first condition of beauty. - -Now this sweet ringing of bells between hiding-place and hiding-place -is the matrimonial oratorio, the discreet summons which every Jack -issues to his Jill. The sequel to the concert may be guessed without -further enquiry; but what it would be impossible to foresee is the -strange finale of the wedding. Behold the father, in this case a real -pater-familias, in the noblest sense of the word, coming out of his -retreat one day in an unrecognizable state. He is carrying the future, -tight-packed around his hind-legs; he is changing houses laden with a -cluster of eggs the size of pepper-corns. His calves are girt, his -thighs are sheathed with the bulky burden; and it covers his back like -a beggar’s wallet, completely deforming him. - -Whither is he going, dragging himself along, incapable of jumping, -thanks to the weight of his load? He is going, the fond parent, where -the mother refuses to go; he is on his way to the nearest pond, whose -warm waters are indispensable to the tadpoles’ hatching and existence. -When the eggs are nicely ripened around his legs under the humid -shelter of a stone, he braves the damp and the daylight, he the -passionate lover of dry land and darkness; he advances by short stages, -his lungs congested with fatigue. The pond is far away, perhaps; no -matter: the plucky pilgrim will find it. - -He’s there. Without delay, he dives, despite his profound antipathy to -bathing; and the cluster of eggs is instantly removed by the legs -rubbing against each other. The eggs are now in their element; and the -rest will be accomplished of itself. Having fulfilled his obligation to -go right under, the father hastens to return to his well-sheltered -home. He is scarcely out of sight before the little black tadpoles are -hatched and playing about. They were but waiting for the contact of the -water in order to burst their shells. - -Among the singers in the July gloaming, one alone, were he able to vary -his notes, could vie with the Toad’s harmonious bells. This is the -little Scops-owl, that comely nocturnal bird of prey, with the round -gold eyes. He sports on his forehead two small feathered horns which -have won for him in the district the name of Machoto banarudo, the -Horned Owl. His song, which is rich enough to fill by itself the still -night air, is of a nerve-shattering monotony. With imperturbable and -measured regularity, for hours on end, kew, kew, the bird spits out its -cantata to the moon. - -One of them has arrived at this moment, driven from the plane-trees in -the square by the din of the rejoicings, to demand my hospitality. I -can hear him in the top of a cypress near by. From up there, dominating -the lyrical assembly, at regular intervals he cuts into the vague -orchestration of the Grasshoppers and the Toads. - -His soft note is contrasted, intermittently, with a sort of Cat’s mew, -coming from another spot. This is the call of the Common Owl, the -meditative bird of Minerva. After hiding all day in the seclusion of a -hollow olive-tree, he started on his wanderings when the shades of -evening began to fall. Swinging along with a sinuous flight, he came -from somewhere in the neighbourhood to the pines in my enclosure, -whence he mingles his harsh mewing, slightly softened by distance, with -the general concert. - -The Green Grasshopper’s clicking is too faint to be clearly perceived -amidst these clamourers; all that reaches me is the least ripple, just -noticeable when there is a moment’s silence. He possesses as his -apparatus of sound only a modest drum and scraper, whereas they, more -highly privileged, have their bellows, the lungs, which send forth a -column of vibrating air. There is no comparison possible. Let us return -to the insects. - -One of these, though inferior in size and no less sparingly equipped, -greatly surpasses the Grasshopper in nocturnal rhapsodies. I speak of -the pale and slender Italian Cricket (Œcanthus pellucens, Scop.), who -is so puny that you dare not take him up for fear of crushing him. He -makes music everywhere among the rosemary-bushes, while the Glow-worms -light up their blue lamps to complete the revels. The delicate -instrumentalist consists chiefly of a pair of large wings, thin and -gleaming as strips of mica. Thanks to these dry sails, he fiddles away -with an intensity capable of drowning the Toads’ fugue. His performance -suggests, but with more brilliancy, more tremolo in the execution, the -song of the Common Black Cricket. Indeed the mistake would certainly be -made by any one who did not know that, by the time that the very hot -weather comes, the true Cricket, the chorister of spring, has -disappeared. His pleasant violin has been succeeded by another more -pleasant still and worthy of special study. We shall return to him at -an opportune moment. - -These then, limiting ourselves to select specimens, are the principal -participants in this musical evening: the Scops-owl, with his -languorous solos; the Toad, that tinkler of sonatas; the Italian -Cricket, who scrapes the first string of a violin; and the Green -Grasshopper, who seems to beat a tiny steel triangle. - -We are celebrating to-day, with greater uproar than conviction, the new -era, dating politically from the fall of the Bastille; they, with -glorious indifference to human things, are celebrating the festival of -the sun, singing the happiness of existence, sounding the loud hosanna -of the July heats. - -What care they for man and his fickle rejoicings! For whom or for what -will our squibs be spluttering a few years hence? Far-seeing indeed -would he be who could answer the question. Fashions change and bring us -the unexpected. The time-serving rocket spreads its sheaf of sparks for -the public enemy of yesterday, who has become the idol of to-day. -To-morrow it will go up for somebody else. - -In a century or two, will any one, outside the historians, give a -thought to the taking of the Bastille? It is very doubtful. We shall -have other joys and also other cares. - -Let us look a little farther ahead. A day will come, so everything -seems to tell us, when, after making progress upon progress, man will -succumb, destroyed by the excess of what he calls civilization. Too -eager to play the god, he cannot hope for the animal’s placid -longevity; he will have disappeared when the little Toad is still -saying his litany, in company with the Grasshopper, the Scops-owl and -the others. They were singing on this planet before us; they will sing -after us, celebrating what can never change, the fiery glory of the -sun. - -I will dwell no longer on this festival and will become once more the -naturalist, anxious to obtain information concerning the private life -of the insect. The Green Grasshopper (Locusta viridissima, Lin.) does -not appear to be common in my neighbourhood. Last year, intending to -make a study of this insect and finding my efforts to hunt it -fruitless, I was obliged to have recourse to the good offices of a -forest-ranger, who sent me a pair of couples from the Lagarde plateau, -that bleak district where the beech-tree begins its escalade of the -Ventoux. - -Now and then freakish fortune takes it into her head to smile upon the -persevering. What was not to be found last year has become almost -common this summer. Without leaving my narrow enclosure, I obtain as -many Grasshoppers as I could wish. I hear them rustling at night in the -green thickets. Let us make the most of the windfall, which perhaps -will not occur again. - -In the month of June, my treasures are installed, in a sufficient -number of couples, under a wire cover standing on a bed of sand in an -earthen pan. It is indeed a magnificent insect, pale-green all over, -with two whitish stripes running down its sides. Its imposing size, its -slim proportions and its great gauze wings make it the most elegant of -our Locustidæ. I am enraptured with my captives. What will they teach -me? We shall see. For the moment, we must feed them. - -I have here the same difficulty that I had with the Decticus. -Influenced by the general diet of the Orthoptera, [59] those ruminants -of the greenswards, I offer the prisoners a leaf of lettuce. They bite -into it, certainly, but very sparingly and with a scornful tooth. It -soon becomes plain that I am dealing with half-hearted vegetarians. -They want something else: they are beasts of prey, apparently. But what -manner of prey? A lucky chance taught me. - -At break of day I was pacing up and down outside my door, when -something fell from the nearest plane-tree with a shrill grating sound. -I ran up and saw a Grasshopper gutting the belly of an exhausted -Cicada. In vain the victim buzzed and waved his limbs: the other did -not let go, dipping her head right into the entrails and rooting them -out by small mouthfuls. - -I knew what I wanted to know: the attack had taken place up above, -early in the morning, while the Cicada was asleep; and the plunging of -the poor wretch, dissected alive, had made assailant and assailed fall -in a bundle to the ground. Since then I have repeatedly had occasion to -witness similar carnage. - -I have even seen the Grasshopper—the height of audacity, this—dart in -pursuit of a Cicada in mad flight. Even so does the Sparrow-hawk pursue -the Swallow in the sky. But the bird of prey here is inferior to the -insect. It attacks a weaker than itself. The Grasshopper, on the other -hand, assaults a colossus, much larger than herself and stronger; and -nevertheless the result of the unequal fight is not in doubt. The -Grasshopper rarely fails with the sharp pliers of her powerful jaws to -disembowel her capture, which, being unprovided with weapons, confines -itself to crying out and kicking. - -The main thing is to retain one’s hold of the prize, which is not -difficult in somnolent darkness. Any Cicada encountered by the fierce -Locustid on her nocturnal rounds is bound to die a lamentable death. -This explains those sudden agonized notes which grate through the woods -at late, unseasonable hours, when the cymbals have long been silent. -The murderess in her suit of apple-green has pounced on some sleeping -Cicada. - -My boarders’ menu is settled: I will feed them on Cicadæ. They take -such a liking to this fare that, in two or three weeks, the floor of -the cage is a knacker’s yard strewn with heads and empty thoraces, with -torn-off wings and disjointed legs. The belly alone disappears almost -entirely. This is the tit-bit, not very substantial, but extremely -tasty, it would seem. Here, in fact, in the insect’s crop, the syrup is -accumulated, the sugary sap which the Cicada’s gimlet taps from the -tender bark. Is it because of this dainty that the prey’s abdomen is -preferred to any other morsel? It is quite possible. - -I do, in fact, with a view to varying the diet, decide to serve up some -very sweet fruits, slices of pear, grape-pips, bits of melon. All this -meets with delighted appreciation. The Green Grasshopper resembles the -English: she dotes on underdone rumpsteak seasoned with jam. [60] This -perhaps is why, on catching the Cicada, she first rips up his paunch, -which supplies a mixture of flesh and preserves. - -To eat Cicadæ and sugar is not possible in every part of the country. -In the north, where she abounds, the Green Grasshopper would not find -the dish which attracts her so strongly here. She must have other -resources. To convince myself of this, I give her Anoxiæ (A. pilosa, -Fab.), the summer equivalent of the spring Cockchafer. The Beetle is -accepted without hesitation. Nothing is left of him but the wing-cases, -head and legs. The result is the same with the magnificent plump Pine -Cockchafer (Melolontha fullo, Lin.), a sumptuous morsel which I find -next day eviscerated by my gang of knackers. - -These examples teach us enough. They tell us that the Grasshopper is an -inveterate consumer of insects, especially of those which are not -protected by too hard a cuirass; they are evidence of tastes which are -highly carnivorous, but not exclusively so, like those of the Praying -Mantis, who refuses everything except game. The butcher of the Cicadæ -is able to modify an excessively heating diet with vegetable fare. -After meat and blood, sugary fruit-pulp; sometimes even, for lack of -anything better, a little green stuff. - -Nevertheless, cannibalism is prevalent. True, I never witness in my -Grasshopper-cages the savagery which is so common in the Praying -Mantis, who harpoons her rivals and devours her lovers; but, if some -weakling succumb, the survivors hardly ever fail to profit by his -carcass as they would in the case of any ordinary prey. With no -scarcity of provisions as an excuse, they feast upon their defunct -companion. For the rest, all the sabre-bearing clan display, in varying -degrees, a propensity for filling their bellies with their maimed -comrades. - -In other respects, the Grasshoppers live together very peacefully in my -cages. No serious strife ever takes place among them, nothing beyond a -little rivalry in the matter of food. I hand in a piece of pear. A -Grasshopper alights on it at once. Jealously she kicks away any one -trying to bite at the delicious morsel. Selfishness reigns everywhere. -When she has eaten her fill, she makes way for another, who in her turn -becomes intolerant. One after the other, all the inmates of the -menagerie come and refresh themselves. After cramming their crops, they -scratch the soles of their feet a little with their mandibles, polish -up their forehead and eyes with a leg moistened with spittle and then, -hanging to the trelliswork or lying on the sand in a posture of -contemplation, blissfully they digest and slumber most of the day, -especially during the hottest part of it. - -It is in the evening, after sunset, that the troop becomes lively. By -nine o’clock the animation is at its height. With sudden rushes they -clamber to the top of the dome, to descend as hurriedly and climb up -once more. They come and go tumultuously, run and hop around the -circular track and, without stopping, nibble at the good things on the -way. - -The males are stridulating by themselves, here and there, teasing the -passing fair with their antennæ. The future mothers stroll about -gravely, with their sabre half-raised. The agitation and feverish -excitement means that the great business of pairing is at hand. The -fact will escape no practised eye. - -It is also what I particularly wish to observe. My chief object in -stocking my cages was to discover how far the strange nuptial manners -revealed by the White-faced Decticus might be regarded as general. My -wish is satisfied, but not fully, for the late hours at which events -take place did not allow me to witness the final act of the wedding. It -is late at night or early in the morning that things happen. - -The little that I see is confined to interminable preludes. Standing -face to face, with foreheads almost touching, the lovers feel and sound -each other for a long time with their limp antennæ. They suggest two -fencers crossing and recrossing harmless foils. From time to time, the -male stridulates a little, gives a few short strokes of the bow and -then falls silent, feeling perhaps too much overcome to continue. -Eleven o’clock strikes; and the declaration is not yet over. Very -regretfully, but conquered by sleepiness, I quit the couple. - -Next morning, early, the female carries, hanging at the bottom of her -ovipositor, the queer bladderlike arrangement that surprised us so much -in the Decticus. It is an opaline capsule, the size of a large pea and -roughly subdivided into a small number of egg-shaped vesicles. When the -Grasshopper walks, the thing scrapes along the ground and becomes dirty -with sticky grains of sand. - -The final banquet of the female Decticus is seen again here in all its -hideousness. When, after a couple of hours, the fertilizing capsule is -drained of its contents, the Grasshopper devours it bit by bit; for a -long time she chews and rechews the gummy morsel and ends by swallowing -it all down. In less than half a day, the milky burden has disappeared, -consumed with zest down to the last atom. - -The inconceivable therefore, imported, one would think, from another -planet, so far removed is it from earthly habits, reappears with no -noticeable variation in the Grasshopper, following on the Decticus. -What singular folk are the Locustidæ, one of the oldest races in the -animal kingdom on dry land! It seems probable that these eccentricities -are the rule throughout the order. Let us consult another sabre-bearer. - -I select the Ephippiger (Ephippigera vitium, Serv.), who is so easy to -rear on bits of pear and lettuce-leaves. It is in July and August that -things happen. A little way off, the male is stridulating by himself. -His ardent bow-strokes set his whole body quivering. Then he stops. -Little by little, with slow and almost ceremonious steps, the caller -and the called come closer together. They stand face to face, both -silent, both stationary, their antennæ gently swaying, their fore-legs -raised awkwardly and giving a sort of handshake at intervals. The -peaceful interview lasts for hours. What do they say to each other? -What vows do they exchange? What does their ogling mean? - -But the moment has not yet come. They separate, they fall out and each -goes his own way. The coolness does not last long. Here they are -together again. The tender declarations are resumed, with no more -success than before. At last, on the third day, I behold the end of the -preliminaries. The male slips discreetly under his companion, -backwards, according to the immemorial laws and customs of the -Crickets. Stretched out behind and lying on his back, he clings to the -ovipositor, his prop. The pairing is accomplished. - -The result is an enormous spermatophore, a sort of opalescent raspberry -with large seeds. Its colour and shape remind one of a cluster of -Snail’s-eggs. I remember seeing the same effect once with a Decticus, -but in a less striking form; and I find it again in the Green -Grasshopper’s spermatophore. A thin median groove divides the whole -into two symmetrical bunches, each comprising seven or eight spherules. -The two nodes situated right and left of the bottom of the ovipositor -are more transparent than the others and contain a bright orange-red -kernel. The whole thing is attached by a wide pedicle, a dab of sticky -jelly. - -As soon as the thing is placed in position, the shrunken male flees and -goes to recruit, after his disastrous prowess, on a slice of pear. The -other, not at all troubled in spite of her heavy load, wanders about on -the trelliswork of the cage, taking very short steps as she slightly -raises her raspberry, this enormous burden, equal in bulk to half the -creature’s abdomen. - -Two or three hours pass in this way. Then the Ephippiger curves herself -into a ring and with her mandibles picks off particles of the nippled -capsule, without bursting it, of course, or allowing the contents to -flow forth. She strips its surface by removing tiny shreds, which she -chews in a leisurely fashion and swallows. This fastidious consuming by -atoms is continued for a whole afternoon. Next day the raspberry has -disappeared; the whole of it has been gulped down during the night. - -At other times the end is less quick and, above all, less repulsive. I -have kept a note of an Ephippiger who was dragging her satchel along -the ground and nibbling at it from time to time. The soil is uneven and -rugged, having been recently turned over with the blade of a knife. The -raspberry-like capsule picks up grains of sand and little clods of -earth, which increase the weight of the load considerably, though the -insect appears to pay no heed to it. Sometimes the carting becomes -laborious, because the load sticks to some bit of earth that refuses to -move. In spite of the efforts made to release the thing, it does not -become detached from the point where it hangs under the ovipositor, -thus proving that it possesses no small power of adhesion. - -All through the evening, the Ephippiger roams about aimlessly, now on -the wirework, anon on the ground, wearing a preoccupied air. Oftener -still she stands without moving. The capsule withers a little, but does -not decrease notably in volume. There are no more of those mouthfuls -which the Ephippiger snatched at the beginning; and the little that has -already been removed affects only the surface. - -Next day, things are as they were. There is nothing new, nor on the -morrow either, save that the capsule withers still more, though its two -red dots remain almost as bright as at first. Finally, after sticking -on for forty-eight hours, the whole thing comes off without the -insect’s intervention. - -The capsule has yielded its contents. It is a dried-up wreck, -shrivelled beyond recognition, left lying in the gutter and doomed -sooner or later to become the booty of the Ants. Why is it thus -abandoned when, in other cases, I have seen the Ephippiger so greedy -for the morsel? Perhaps because the nuptial dish had become too gritty -with grains of sand, so unpleasant to the teeth. - -Another Locustid, the Phaneroptera who carries a short yataghan bent -into a reaping-hook (P. falcata, Scop.), has made up to me in part for -my stud troubles. Repeatedly, but always under conditions which did not -allow of completing my observation, I have caught her carrying the -fertilizing-concern under the base of her sabre. It is a diaphanous, -oval phial, measuring three or four millimetres [61] and hanging from a -crystal thread, a neck almost as long as the distended part. The insect -does not touch it, but leaves the phial to dry up and shrivel where it -is. [62] - -Let us be content with this. These five examples, furnished by such -different genera, Decticus, Analota, Grasshopper, Ephippiger and -Phaneroptera, prove that the Locustid, like the Scolopendra and the -Cephalopod, is a belated representative of the manners of antiquity, a -valuable specimen of the genetic eccentricities of olden times. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE CRICKET: THE BURROW; THE EGG - - -Almost as famous as the Cicada, the Field Cricket, the denizen of the -greenswards, figures among the limited but glorious number of the -classic insects. He owes this honour to his song and his house. One -thing alone is lacking to complete his renown. By a regrettable -omission, the master of the art of making animals talk gives him hardly -two lines. - -In one of his fables he shows us the Hare seized with terror at the -sight of his ears, which scandalmongers will not fail to describe as -horns at a time when to be horned is dangerous. The prudent animal -packs up his traps and makes off: - - - “Adieu, voisin Grillon,” dit-il; “je pars d’ici; - Mes oreilles enfin seraient cornes aussi.” - - -The Cricket answers: - - - “Cornes cela! Vous me prenez pour cruche! - Ce sont oreilles que Dieu fit.” - - -The Hare insists: - - - “On les fera passer pour cornes.” [63] - - -And that is all. What a pity that La Fontaine did not make the insect -hold forth at greater length! The good-natured Cricket is depicted for -us in a couple of lines which already show the master’s touch. No, -indeed, he is no fool: his big head might have found some capital -things to say. And yet the Hare was perhaps not wrong to take his -departure in a hurry. When slander is at your heels, the best thing is -to fly. - -Florian [64] was less concise in his story, which is on another theme; -but what a long way we are from the warmth and vigour of old La -Fontaine! In Florian’s fable Le Grillon, there are plenty of flowery -meadows and blue skies; Dame Nature and affectation go hand in hand; in -short, we have the feeble artificialities of a lifeless rhetoric, which -loses sight of the thing described for the sake of the description. It -lacks the simplicity of truth and also the saving salt of humour. - -Besides, what a preposterous idea, to represent the Cricket as -discontented, bewailing his condition in despair! All who have studied -him know, on the contrary, that he is very well pleased with his own -talent and his hole. This, moreover, is what the fabulist makes him -admit, after the Butterfly’s discomfiture: - - - -I find more force and more truth in the apologue by the nameless friend -to whom I owe the Provençal piece, La Cigalo e la Fournigo. He will -forgive me if for the second time I expose him, without his consent, to -the dangerous honour of print. Here it is: - - - LE GRILLON - - L’histoire des bêtes rapporte - Qu’autrefois un pauvre grillon, - Prenant le soleil sur sa porte, - Vit passer un beau papillon. - - Un papillon à longues queues, - Superbe, des mieux décorés, - Avec rangs de lunules bleues, - Galons noirs et gros points dorés. [66] - - “Vole, vole,” lui dit l’ermite, - “Sur les fleurs, du matin au soir; - Ta rose, ni ta marguerite - Ne valent mon humble manoir.” - - Il disait vrai. Vient un orage - Et le papillon est noyé - Dans un bourbier; la fange outrage - Le velours de son corps broyé. - - Mais la tourmente en rien n’étonne - Le grillon, qui, dans son abri, - Qu’il pleuve, qu’il vente, qu’il tonne, - Vit tranquille et chante cri-cri. - - Ah! n’allons pas courir le monde - Parmi les plaisirs et les fleurs; - L’humble foyer, sa paix profonde - Nous épargneront bien des pleurs. - - - - THE CRICKET - - Among the beasts a tale is told - How a poor Cricket ventured nigh - His door to catch the sun’s warm gold - And saw a radiant Butterfly. - - She passed with tails thrown proudly back - And long gay rows of crescents blue, - Brave yellow stars and bands of black, - The lordliest fly that ever flew. - - “Ah, fly away,” the hermit said, - “Daylong among your flowers to roam; - Nor daisies white nor roses red - Will compensate my lowly home.” - - True, all too true! There came a storm - And caught the other in its flood, - Staining her broken velvet form - And covering her wings with mud. - - The Cricket, sheltered from the rain, - Chirped and looked on with tranquil eye; - For him the thunder pealed in vain, - The gale and torrent passed him by. - - Then shun the world, nor take your fill - Of any of its joys or flowers; - A lowly fire-side, calm and still, - At least will grant you tearless hours! [67] - - -There I recognize my Cricket. I see him curling his antennæ on the -threshold of his burrow, keeping his belly cool and his back to the -sun. He is not jealous of the Butterfly; on the contrary, he pities -her, with that air of mocking commiseration familiar in the ratepayer -who owns a house of his own and sees passing before his door some -wearer of a gaudy costume with no place to lay her head. Far from -complaining, he is very well satisfied with both his house and his -violin. A true philosopher, he knows the vanity of things and -appreciates the charm of a modest retreat away from the riot of -pleasure-seekers. - -Yes, the description is about right, though it remains very inadequate -and does not bear the stamp of immortality. The Cricket is still -waiting for the few lines needed to perpetuate his merits; and, since -La Fontaine neglected him, he will have to go on waiting a long time. - -To me, as a naturalist, the outstanding feature in the two fables—a -feature which I should find repeated elsewhere, beyond a doubt, if my -library were not reduced to a small row of odd volumes on a deal -shelf—is the burrow on which the moral is founded. Florian speaks of -the snug retreat; the other praises his lowly home. It is the dwelling -therefore that above all compels attention, even that of the poet, who -cares little in general for realities. - -In this respect, indeed, the Cricket is extraordinary. Of all our -insects, he alone, on attaining maturity, possesses a fixed abode, the -monument of his industry. During the bad season of the year, most of -the others burrow or skulk in some temporary refuge, a refuge obtained -free of cost and abandoned without regret. Several create marvels, with -a view to settling their family: cotton satchels, baskets made of -leaves, towers of cement. Some carnivorous larvæ dwell in permanent -ambuscades, where they lie in wait for their prey. The Tiger-beetle, -among others, digs itself a perpendicular hole, which it closes with -its flat, bronze head. Whoever ventures on the insidious foot-bridge -vanishes down the gulf, whose trap-door at once tips up and disappears -beneath the feet of the wayfarer. The Ant-lion makes a funnel in the -sand. The Ant slides down its very loose slope and is bombarded with -projectiles hurled from the bottom of the crater by the hunter, who -turns his neck into a catapult. But these are all temporary refuges, -nests or traps. - -The laboriously constructed residence, in which the insect settles down -with no intention of moving, either in the happy spring or the woful -winter season; the real manor, built for peace and comfort and not as a -hunting-box or a nursery: this is known to the Cricket alone. On some -sunny, grassy slope he is the owner of a hermitage. While all the -others lead vagabond lives, sleeping in the open air or under the -casual shelter of a dead leaf, a stone, or the peeling bark of an old -tree, he is a privileged person with a permanent address. - -A serious problem is that of the home. It has been solved by the -Cricket, by the Rabbit and, lastly, by man. In my neighbourhood, the -Fox and the Badger have holes the best part of which is supplied by the -irregularities of the rock. A few repairs; and the dug-out is -completed. Cleverer than they, the Rabbit builds his house by burrowing -wheresoever he pleases, when there is no natural passage that allows -him to settle down free of any trouble. - -The Cricket surpasses all of them. Scorning chance refuges, he always -chooses the site of his abode, in well-drained ground, with a pleasant -sunny aspect. He refuses to make use of fortuitous cavities, which are -incommodious and rough; he digs every bit of his villa, from the -entrance-hall to the back-room. - -I see no one above him, in the art of house-building, except man; and -even man, before mixing mortar to hold stones together, before kneading -clay to coat his hut of branches, fought with wild beasts for the -possession of a refuge in the rocks or an underground cavern. - -Then how are the privileges of instinct distributed? Here is one of the -humblest, able to lodge himself to perfection. He has a home, an -advantage unknown to many civilized beings; he has a peaceful retreat, -the first condition of comfort; and nobody around him is capable of -settling down. He has no rivals until you come to ourselves. - -Whence does he derive this gift? Is he favoured with special tools? No, -the Cricket is not an incomparable excavator; in fact, one is rather -surprised at the result when one considers the feebleness of his -resources. - -Can it be made necessary by the demands of an exceptionally delicate -skin? No, among his near kinsmen, other skins, no less sensitive than -his, do not dread the open air at all. - -Can it be a propensity inherent in the anatomical structure, a talent -prescribed by the secret promptings of the organism? No, my -neighbourhood boasts three other Crickets (Gryllus bimaculatus, de -Geer; G. desertus, Pallas.; G. burdigalensis, Latr.), who are so like -the Field Cricket in appearance, colour and structure that, at the -first glance, one would take them for him. The first is as large as he -is, or even larger. The second represents him reduced to about half his -size. The third is smaller still. Well, of these faithful copies, these -doubles of the Field Cricket, not one knows how to dig himself a -burrow. The Double-spotted Cricket inhabits those heaps of grass left -to rot in damp places; the Solitary Cricket roams about the crevices in -the dry clods turned up by the gardener’s spade; the Bordeaux Cricket -is not afraid to make his way into our houses, where he sings -discreetly, during August and September, in some dark, cool spot. - -There is no object in continuing our questions: each would meet with no -for an answer. Instinct, which stands revealed here and disappears -there despite organisms alike in all respects, will never tell us its -causes. It depends so little on an insect’s stock of tools that no -anatomical detail can explain it to us and still less make us foresee -it. The four almost identical Crickets, of whom one alone understands -the art of burrowing, add their evidence to the manifold proofs already -supplied; they confirm in a striking fashion our profound ignorance of -the origin of instinct. - -Who does not know the Cricket’s abode! Who has not, as a child playing -in the fields, stopped in front of the hermit’s cabin! However light -your footfall, he has heard you coming and has abruptly withdrawn to -the very bottom of his hiding-place. When you arrive, the threshold of -the house is deserted. - -Everybody knows the way to bring the skulker out. You insert a straw -and move it gently about the burrow. Surprised at what is happening -above, tickled and teased, the Cricket ascends from his secret -apartment; he stops in the passage, hesitates and enquires into things -by waving his delicate antennæ; he comes to the light and, once -outside, he is easy to catch, so greatly have events puzzled his poor -head. Should he be missed at the first attempt, he may become more -suspicious and obstinately resist the titillation of the straw. In that -case, we can flood him out with a glass of water. - -O those adorable times when we used to cage our Crickets and feed them -on a leaf of lettuce, those childish hunting-trips along the grassy -paths! They all come back to me to-day, as I explore the burrows in -search of subjects for my studies; they appear to me almost in their -pristine freshness when my companion, little Paul, already an expert in -the tactical use of the straw, springs up suddenly, after a long trial -of skill and patience with the recalcitrant, and, brandishing his -closed hand in the air, cries, excitedly: - -“I’ve got him, I’ve got him!” - -Quick, here’s a bag; in you go, my little Cricket! You shall be petted -and pampered; but mind you teach us something and, first of all, show -us your house. - -It is a slanting gallery, situated in the grass, on some sunny bank -which soon dries after a shower. It is nine inches long at most, hardly -as thick as one’s finger and straight or bent according to the -exigencies of the ground. As a rule, a tuft of grass, which is -respected by the Cricket when he goes out to browse upon the -surrounding turf, half-conceals the home, serving as a porch and -throwing a discreet shade over the entrance. The gently-sloping -threshold, scrupulously raked and swept, is carried for some distance. -This is the belvedere on which, when everything is peaceful round -about, the Cricket sits and scrapes his fiddle. - -The inside of the house is devoid of luxury, with bare and yet not -coarse walls. Ample leisure allows the inhabitant to do away with any -unpleasant roughness. At the end of the passage is the bedroom, the -terminal alcove, a little more carefully smoothed than the rest and -slightly wider. All said, it is a very simple abode, exceedingly clean, -free from damp and conforming with the requirements of a -well-considered system of hygiene. On the other hand, it is an enormous -undertaking, a regular Cyclopean tunnel, when we consider the modest -means of excavation. Let us try to be present at the work. Let us also -enquire at what period the enterprise begins. This obliges us to go -back to the egg. - -Any one wishing to see the Cricket lay her eggs can do so without -making great preparations: all that he wants is a little patience, -which, according to Buffon, is genius, but which I, more modestly, will -describe as the observer’s chief virtue. In April, or at latest in May, -we establish isolated couples of the insect in flower-pots containing a -layer of heaped-up earth. Their provisions consist of a lettuce-leaf -renewed from time to time. A square of glass covers the retreat and -prevents escape. - -Some extremely interesting facts can be obtained with this simple -installation, supplemented, if need be, with a wire-gauze cover, the -best of all cages. We shall return to this matter. For the moment, let -us watch the laying and make sure that the propitious hour does not -evade our vigilance. - -It is in the first week in June that my assiduous visits begin to show -satisfactory results. I surprise the mother standing motionless, with -her ovipositor planted perpendicularly in the soil. For a long time she -remains stationed at the same point, heedless of her indiscreet caller. -At last she withdraws her dibble, removes, more or less perfunctorily, -the traces of the boring-hole, takes a moment’s rest, walks away and -starts again somewhere else, now here, now there, all over the area at -her disposal. Her behaviour, though her movements are slower, is a -repetition of what the Decticus has shown us. Her egg-laying appears to -me to be ended within the twenty-four hours. For greater certainty, I -wait a couple of days longer. - -I then dig up the earth in the pot. The straw-coloured eggs are -cylinders rounded at both ends and measuring about one-ninth of an inch -in length. They are placed singly in the soil, arranged vertically and -grouped in more or less numerous patches, which correspond with the -successive layings. I find them all over the pot, at a depth of -three-quarters of an inch. There are difficulties in examining a mass -of earth through a magnifying-glass; but, allowing for these -difficulties, I estimate the eggs laid by one mother at five or six -hundred. So large a family is sure to undergo a drastic purging before -long. - -The Cricket’s egg is a little marvel of mechanism. After hatching, it -appears as an opaque white sheath, with a round and very regular -aperture at the top; to the edge of this a cap adheres, forming a lid. -Instead of bursting anyhow under the thrusts or cuts of the new-born -larva, it opens of its own accord along a specially prepared line of -least resistance. - -It became important to observe the curious hatching. About a fortnight -after the egg is laid, two large, round, rusty-black eye-dots darken -the front end. A little way above these two dots, right at the apex of -the cylinder, you see the outline of a thin circular swelling. This is -the line of rupture which is preparing. Soon the translucency of the -egg enables the observer to perceive the delicate segmentation of the -tiny creature within. Now is the time to redouble our vigilance and -multiply our visits, especially in the morning. - -Fortune, which loves the persevering, rewards me for my assiduity. All -round this swelling where, by a process of infinite delicacy, the line -of least resistance has been prepared, the end of the egg, pushed back -by the inmate’s forehead, becomes detached, rises and falls to one side -like the top of a miniature scent-bottle. The Cricket pops out like a -Jack-in-the-box. - -When he is gone, the shell remains distended, smooth, intact, pure -white, with the cap or lid hanging from the opening. A bird’s egg -breaks clumsily under the blows of a wart that grows for the purpose at -the end of the chick’s beak; the Cricket’s egg, endowed with a superior -mechanism, opens like an ivory case. The thrust of the inmate’s head is -enough to work the hinge. - -The hatching of the eggs is hastened by the glorious weather; and the -observer’s patience is not much tried, the rapidity rivalling that of -the Dung-beetles. The summer solstice has not yet arrived when the ten -couples interned under glass for the benefit of my studies are -surrounded by their numerous progeny. The egg-stage, therefore, lasts -just about ten days. - -I said above that, when the lid of the ivory case is lifted, a young -Cricket pops out. This is not quite accurate. What appears at the -opening is the swaddled grub, as yet unrecognizable in a tight-fitting -sheath. I expected to see this wrapper, this first set of baby-clothes, -for the same reasons that made me anticipate it in the case of the -Decticus: - -“The Cricket,” said I to myself, “is born underground. He also sports -two very long antennæ and a pair of overgrown hind-legs, all of which -are cumbrous appendages at the time of the emergence. He must therefore -possess a tunic in which to make his exit.” - -My forecast, correct enough in principle, was only partly confirmed. -The new-born Cricket does in fact possess a temporary structure; but, -so far from employing it for the purpose of hoisting himself outside, -he throws off his clothes as he passes out of the egg. - -To what circumstances are we to attribute this departure from the usual -practice? Perhaps to this: the Cricket’s egg stays in the ground for -only a few days before hatching; the egg of the Decticus remains there -for eight months. The former, save for rare exceptions in a season of -drought, lies under a thin layer of dry, loose, unresisting earth; the -latter, on the contrary, finds itself in soil which has been caked -together by the persistent rains of autumn and winter and which -therefore presents serious difficulties. Moreover, the Cricket is -shorter and stouter, less long-shanked than the Decticus. These would -appear to be the reasons for the difference between the two insects in -respect of their methods of emerging. The Decticus, born lower down, -under a close-packed layer, needs a climbing-costume with which the -Cricket is able to dispense, being less hampered and nearer to the -surface and having only a powdery layer of earth to pass through. - -Then what is the object of the tights which the Cricket flings aside as -soon as he is out of the egg? I will answer this question with another: -what is the object of the two white stumps, the two pale-coloured -embryo wings carried by the Cricket under his wing-cases, which are -turned into a great mechanism of sound? They are so insignificant, so -feeble that the insect certainly makes no use of them, any more than -the Dog utilizes the thumb that hangs limp and lifeless at the back of -his paw. - -Sometimes, for reasons of symmetry, the walls of a house are painted -with imitation windows to balance the other windows, which are real. -This is done out of respect for order, the supreme condition of the -beautiful. In the same way, life has its symmetries, its repetitions of -a general prototype. When abolishing an organ that has ceased to be -employed, it leaves vestiges of it to maintain the primitive -arrangement. - -The Dog’s rudimentary thumb predicates the five-fingered hand that -characterizes the higher animals; the Cricket’s wing-stumps are -evidence that the insect would normally be capable of flight; the moult -undergone on the threshold of the egg is reminiscent of the -tight-fitting wrapper needed for the laborious exit of the Locustidæ -born underground. They are so many symmetrical superfluities, so many -remains of a law that has fallen into disuse but never been abrogated. - -As soon as he is deprived of his delicate tunic, the young Cricket, -pale all over, almost white, begins to battle with the soil overhead. -He hits out with his mandibles; he sweeps aside and kicks behind him -the powdery obstruction, which offers no resistance. Behold him on the -surface, amidst the joys of the sunlight and the perils of conflict -with the living, poor, feeble creature that he is, hardly larger than a -Flea. In twenty-four hours he colours and turns into a magnificent -blackamoor, whose ebon hue vies with that of the adult insect. All that -remains of his original pallor is a white sash that girds his chest and -reminds us of a baby’s leading-string. Very nimble and alert, he sounds -the surrounding space with his long, quivering antennæ, runs about and -jumps with an impetuosity in which his future obesity will forbid him -to indulge. - -This is also the age when the stomach is still delicate. What sort of -food does he need? I do not know. I offer him the adult’s treat, tender -lettuce-leaves. He scorns to touch them, or perhaps he takes mouthfuls -so exceedingly small that they escape me. - -In a few days, with my ten households, I find myself overwhelmed with -family cares. What am I to do with my five or six thousand Crickets, a -pretty flock, no doubt, but impossible to rear in my ignorance of the -treatment required? I will set you at liberty, my little dears; I will -entrust you to nature, the sovran nurse. - -Thus it comes to pass. I release my legions in the enclosure, here, -there and everywhere, in the best places. What a concert I shall have -outside my door next year, if they all turn out well! But no, the -symphony will probably be one of silence, for the savage pruning due to -the mother’s fertility is bound to come. All that I can hope for is -that a few couples may survive extermination. - -As in the case of the young Praying Mantes, the first that hasten to -this manna and the most eager for the slaughter are the little Grey -Lizard and the Ant. The latter, loathsome freebooter that she is, will, -I fear, not leave me a single Cricket in the garden. She snaps up the -poor little creatures, eviscerates them and gobbles them down at -frantic speed. - -Oh, the execrable wretch! And to think that we place the Ant in the -front rank of insects! Books are written in her honour and the stream -of eulogy never ceases; the naturalists hold her in the greatest esteem -and add daily to her reputation, so true is it, among animals as among -men, that of the various ways of making history, the surest way is to -do harm to others. [68] - -Nobody asks after the Dung-beetle and the Necrophorus, [69] invaluable -scavengers both, whereas everybody knows the Gnat, that drinker of -men’s blood; the Wasp, that hot-tempered swashbuckler, with her -poisoned dagger; and the Ant, that notorious evil-doer, who, in our -southern villages, saps and imperils the rafters of a dwelling with the -same zest with which she devours a fig. I need not trouble to say more: -every one will discover in the records of mankind similar instances of -usefulness ignored and frightfulness exalted. - -The massacre instituted by the Ants and other exterminators is so great -that my erstwhile populous colonies in the enclosure become too small -to enable me to continue my observations; and I am driven to have -recourse to information outside. In August, among the fallen leaves, in -those little oases where the grass has not been wholly scorched by the -sun, I find the young Cricket already rather big, black all over like -the adult, with not a vestige of the white girdle of his early days. He -has no domicile. The shelter of a dead leaf, the cover of a flat stone -are enough for him; they represent the tents of a nomad who cares not -where he lays his head. - -This vagabond life continues until the middle of autumn. It is then -that the Yellow-winged Sphex [70] hunts down the wanderers, an easy -prey, and stores her bag of Crickets underground. She decimates those -who have survived the Ants’ devastating raids. A settled dwelling, dug -a few weeks before the usual time, would save them from the spoilers. -The sorely-tried victims do not think of it. The bitter experience of -the centuries has taught them nothing. Though already strong enough to -dig a protecting burrow, they remain invincibly faithful to their -ancient customs and would go on roaming though the Sphex stabbed the -last of their race. - -It is at the close of October, when the first cold weather threatens, -that the burrow is taken in hand. The work is very simple, judging by -the little that my observation of the caged insect has shown me. The -digging is never done at a bare point in the pan, but always under the -shelter of a withered lettuce-leaf, some remnant of the food provided. -This takes the place of the grass screen that seems indispensable to -the secrecy of the establishment. - -The miner scrapes with his fore-legs and uses the pincers of his -mandibles to extract the larger bits of gravel. I see him stamping with -his powerful hind-legs, furnished with a double row of spikes; I see -him raking the rubbish, sweeping it backwards and spreading it -slantwise. There you have the method in its entirety. - -The work proceeds pretty quickly at first. In the yielding soil of my -cages, the digger disappears underground after a spell that lasts a -couple of hours. He returns to the entrance at intervals, always -backwards and always sweeping. Should he be overcome with fatigue, he -takes a rest on the threshold of his half-finished home, with his head -outside and his antennæ waving feebly. He goes in again and resumes -work with pincers and rakes. Soon the periods of repose become longer -and wear out my patience. - -The most urgent part of the work is done. Once the hole is a couple of -inches deep, it suffices for the needs of the moment. The rest will be -a long-winded business, resumed in a leisurely fashion, a little one -day and a little the next; the hole will be made deeper and wider as -demanded by the inclemencies of the weather and the growth of the -insect. Even in winter, if the temperature be mild and the sun playing -over the entrance to the dwelling, it is not unusual to see the Cricket -shooting out rubbish, a sign of repairs and fresh excavations. Amidst -the joys of spring, the upkeep of the building still continues. It is -constantly undergoing improvements and repairs until the owner’s -decease. - -April comes to an end and the Cricket’s song begins, at first in rare -and shy solos, soon developing into a general symphony in which each -clod of turf boasts its performer. I am more than inclined to place the -Cricket at the head of the spring choristers. In our waste lands, when -the thyme and the lavender are gaily flowering, he has as his partner -the Crested Lark, who rises like a lyrical rocket, his throat swelling -with notes, and from the sky, invisible in the clouds, sheds his sweet -music upon the fallows. Down below the Crickets chant the responses. -Their song is monotonous and artless, but so well-suited, in its very -crudity, to the rustic gladness of renascent life! It is the hosanna of -the awakening, the sacred alleluia understood by swelling seed and -sprouting blade. Who deserves the palm in this duet? I should award it -to the Cricket. He surpasses them all, thanks to his numbers and his -unceasing note. Were the Lark to fall silent, the fields blue-grey with -lavender, swinging its fragrant censers before the sun, would still -receive from this humble chorister a solemn celebration. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE CRICKET: THE SONG; THE PAIRING - - -In steps anatomy and says to the Cricket, bluntly: - -“Show us your musical-box.” - -Like all things of real value, it is very simple; it is based on the -same principle as that of the Grasshoppers: a bow with a hook to it and -a vibrating membrane. The right wing-case overlaps the left and covers -it almost completely, except where it folds back sharply and encases -the insect’s side. It is the converse of what we see in the Green -Grasshopper, the Decticus, the Ephippiger and their kinsmen. The -Cricket is right-handed, the others left-handed. - -The two wing-cases have exactly the same structure. To know one is to -know the other. Let us describe the one on the right. It is almost flat -on the back and slants suddenly at the side in a right-angled fold, -encircling the abdomen with a pinion which has delicate, parallel veins -running in an oblique direction. The dorsal surface has stronger and -more prominent nervures, of a deep-black colour, which, taken together, -form a strange, complicated design, bearing some resemblance to the -hieroglyphics of an Arabic manuscript. - -By holding it up to the light, one can see that it is a very pale red, -save for two large adjoining spaces, a larger, triangular one in front -and a smaller, oval one at the back. Each is framed in a prominent -nervure and scored with faint wrinkles. The first, moreover, is -strengthened with four or five chevrons; the second with only one, -which is bow-shaped. These two areas represent the Grasshoppers’ -mirror; they constitute the sounding-areas. The skin is finer here than -elsewhere and transparent, though of a somewhat smoky tint. - -The front part, which is smooth and slightly red in hue, is bounded at -the back by two curved, parallel veins, having between them a cavity -containing a row of five or six little black wrinkles that look like -the rungs of a tiny ladder. The left wing-case presents an exact -duplicate of the right. The wrinkles constitute the friction-nervures -which intensify the vibration by increasing the number of the points -that are touched by the bow. - -On the lower surface, one of the two veins that surround the cavity -with the rungs becomes a rib cut into the shape of a hook. This is the -bow. I count in it about a hundred and fifty triangular teeth or prisms -of exquisite geometrical perfection. - -It is a fine instrument indeed, far superior to that of the Decticus. -The hundred and fifty prisms of the bow, biting into the rungs of the -opposite wing-case, set the four drums in motion at one and the same -time, the lower pair by direct friction, the upper pair by the shaking -of the friction-apparatus. What a rush of sound! The Decticus, endowed -with a single paltry mirror, can be heard just a few steps away; the -Cricket, possessing four vibratory areas, throws his ditty to a -distance of some hundreds of yards. - -He vies with the Cicada in shrillness, without having the latter’s -disagreeable harshness. Better still: this favoured one knows how to -modulate his song. The wing-cases, as we said, extend over either side -in a wide fold. These are the dampers which, lowered to a greater or -lesser depth, alter the intensity of the sound and, according to the -extent of their contact with the soft abdomen, allow the insect to sing -mezza voce at one time and fortissimo at another. - -The exact similarity of the two wing-cases is worthy of attention. I -can see clearly the function of the upper bow and the four -sounding-areas which it sets in motion; but what is the good of the -lower one, the bow on the left wing? Not resting on anything, it has -nothing to strike with its hook, which is as carefully toothed as the -other. It is absolutely useless, unless the apparatus can invert the -order of its two parts and place that above which was below. After such -an inversion, the perfect symmetry of the instrument would cause the -necessary mechanism to be reproduced in every respect and the insect -would be able to stridulate with the hook which is at present -unemployed. It would scrape away as usual with its lower fiddlestick, -now become the upper; and the tune would remain the same. - -Is this permutation within its power? Can the insect use both -pot-hooks, changing from one to the other when it grows tired, which -would mean that it could keep up its music all the longer? Or are there -at least some Crickets who are permanently left-handed? I expected to -find this the case, because of the absolute symmetry of the wing-cases. -Observation convinced me of the contrary. I have never come across a -Cricket that failed to conform with the general rule. All those whom I -have examined—and they are many—without a single exception carried the -right wing-case above the left. - -Let us try to interfere and to bring about by artifice what natural -conditions refuse to show us. Using my forceps, very gently, of course, -and without straining the wing-cases, I make these overlap the opposite -way. This result is easily obtained with a little dexterity and -patience. The thing is done. Everything is in order. There is no -dislocation at the shoulders; the membranes are without a crease. -Things could not be better-arranged under normal conditions. - -Was the Cricket going to sing, with his inverted instrument? I was -almost expecting it, appearances were so much in its favour; but I was -soon undeceived. The insect submits for a few moments; then, finding -the inversion uncomfortable, it makes an effort and restores the -instrument to its regular position. In vain I repeat the operation: the -Cricket’s obstinacy triumphs over mine. The displaced wing-cases always -resume their normal arrangement. There is nothing to be done in this -direction. - -Shall I be more successful if I make my attempt while the wing-cases -are still immature? At the actual moment, they are stiff membranes, -resisting any changes. The fold is already there; it is at the outset -that the material should be manipulated. What shall we learn from -organs that are quite new and still plastic, if we invert them as soon -as they appear? The thing is worth trying. - -For this purpose, I go to the larva and watch for the moment of its -metamorphosis, a sort of second birth. The future wings and wing-cases -form four tiny flaps which, by their shape and their scantiness, as -well as by the way in which they stick out in different directions, -remind me of the short jackets worn by the Auvergne cheese-makers. I am -most assiduous in my attendance, lest I should miss the propitious -moment, and at last have a chance to witness the moulting. In the early -part of May, at about eleven in the morning, a larva casts off its -rustic garments before my eyes. The transformed Cricket is now a -reddish brown, all but the wings and wing-cases, which are beautifully -white. - -Both wings and wing-cases, which only issued from their sheaths quite -recently, are no more than short, crinkly stumps. The former remain in -this rudimentary state, or nearly so. The latter gradually develop bit -by bit and open out; their inner edges, with a movement too slow to be -perceived, meet one another, on the same plane and at the same level. -There is no sign to tell us which of the two wing-cases will overlap -the other. The two edges are now touching. A few moments longer and the -right will be above the left. This is the time to intervene. - -With a straw I gently change the position, bringing the left edge over -the right. The insect protests a little and disturbs my manœuvring. I -insist, while taking every possible care not to endanger these tender -organs, which look as though they were cut out of wet tissue-paper. And -I am quite successful: the left wing-case pushes forward above the -right, but only very little, barely a twenty-fifth of an inch. We will -leave it alone: things will now go of themselves. - -They go as well as one could wish, in fact. Continuing to spread, the -left wing-case ends by entirely covering the other. At three o’clock in -the afternoon, the Cricket has changed from a reddish hue to black, but -the wing-cases are still white. Two hours more and they also will -possess the normal colouring. - -It is over. The wing-cases have come to maturity under the artificial -arrangement; they have opened out and moulded themselves according to -my plans; they have taken breadth and consistency and have been born, -so to speak, in an inverted position. As things now are, the Cricket is -left-handed. Will he definitely remain so? It seems to me that he will; -and my hopes rise higher on the morrow and the day after, for the -wing-cases continue, without any trouble, in their unusual arrangement. -I expect soon to see the artist wield that particular fiddlestick which -the members of his family never employ. I redouble my watchfulness, so -as to witness his first attempt at playing the violin. - -On the third day, the novice makes a start. A few brief grating sounds -are heard, the noise of a machine out of gear shifting its parts back -into their proper order. Then the song begins, with its accustomed tone -and rhythm. - -Veil your face, O foolish experimenter, overconfident in your -mischievous straw! You thought that you had created a new type of -instrumentalist; and you have obtained nothing at all. The Cricket has -thwarted your schemes: he is scraping with his right fiddlestick and -always will. With a painful effort, he has dislocated his shoulders, -which were made to mature and harden the wrong way; and, in spite of a -set that seemed definite, he has put back on top that which ought to be -on top and underneath that which ought to be underneath. Your sorry -science tried to make a left-handed player of him. He laughs at your -devices and settles down to be right-handed for the rest of his life. - -Franklin left an eloquent plea on behalf of the left hand, which, he -considered, deserved as careful training as its fellow. What an immense -advantage it would be thus to have two servants each as capable as the -other! Yes, certainly; but, except for a few rare instances, is this -equality of strength and skill in the two hands possible? - -The Cricket answers no: there is an original weakness in the left side, -a want of balance, which habit and training can to a certain extent -correct, but which they can never cause wholly to disappear. Though -shaped by a training which takes it at its birth and moulds and -solidifies it on the top of the other, the left wing-case none the less -resumes the lower position when the insect tries to sing. As to the -cause of this original inferiority, that is a problem which belongs to -embryogenesis. - -My failure confirms the fact that the left wing-case is unable to make -use of its bow, even when supplemented by the aid of art. Then what is -the object of that hook whose exquisite precision yields in no respect -to that of the other? We might appeal to reasons of symmetry and talk -about the repetition of an archetypal design, as I, for want of a -better argument, did just now in the matter of the cast raiment which -the young Cricket leaves on the threshold of his ovular sheath; but I -prefer to confess that this would be but the semblance of an -explanation, wrapped up in specious language. For the Decticus, the -Grasshopper and the other Locustidæ would come and show us their -wing-cases, one with the bow only, the other with the mirror, and say: - -“Why should the Cricket, our near kinsman, be symmetrical, whereas all -of us Locustidæ, without exception, are asymmetrical?” - -There is no valid answer to their objection. Let us confess our -ignorance and humbly say: - -“I do not know.” - -It wants but a Midge’s wing to confound our proudest theories. - -Enough of the instrument; let us listen to the music. The Cricket sings -on the threshold of his house, in the cheerful sunshine, never indoors. -The wing-cases, lifted in a double inclined plane and now only partly -covering each other, utter their stridulant cri-cri in a soft tremolo. -It is full, sonorous, nicely cadenced and lasts indefinitely. Thus are -the leisures of solitude beguiled all through the spring. The anchorite -at first sings for his own pleasure. Glad to be alive, he chants the -praises of the sun that shines upon him, the grass that feeds him, the -peaceful retreat that harbours him. The first object of his bow is to -hymn the blessings of life. - -The hermit also sings for the benefit of his fair neighbours. The -Cricket’s nuptials would, I warrant, present a curious scene, if it -were possible to follow their details far from the commotions of -captivity. To seek an opportunity would be labour lost, for the insect -is very shy. I must await one. Shall I ever find it? I do not despair, -in spite of the extraordinary difficulty. For the moment, let us be -satisfied with what we can learn from probability and the vivarium. - -The two sexes dwell apart. Both are extremely domestic in their habits. -Whose business is it to make a move? Does the caller go in search of -the called? Does the serenaded one come to the serenader? If, at -pairing-time, sound were the sole guide where homes are far apart, it -would be necessary for the silent partner to go to the noisy one’s -trysting-place. But I imagine that, in order to save appearances—and -this accords with what I learn from my prisoners—the Cricket has -special faculties that guide him towards his mute lady-love. - -When and how is the meeting effected? I suspect that things take place -in the friendly gloaming and upon the very threshold of the bride’s -home, upon that sanded esplanade, that state courtyard, which lies just -outside the entrance. - -A nocturnal journey like this, at some twenty paces’ distance, is a -serious undertaking for the Cricket. When he has accomplished his -pilgrimage, how will he, the stay-at-home, with his imperfect knowledge -of topography, find his own house again? To return to his Penates must -be impossible. He roams, I fear, at random, with no place to lay his -head. He has neither the time nor the heart to dig himself the new -burrow which would be his salvation; and he dies a wretched death, -forming a savoury mouthful for the Toad on his night rounds. His visit -to the lady Cricket has cost him his home and his life. What does he -care! He has done his duty as a Cricket. - -This is how I picture events when I combine the probabilities of the -open country with the realities of the vivarium. I have several couples -in one cage. As a rule, my captives refrain from digging themselves a -dwelling. The hour has passed for any long waiting or long wooing. They -wander about the enclosed space, without troubling about a fixed home, -or else lie low under the shelter of a lettuce-leaf. - -Peace reigns in the household until the quarrelsome instincts of -pairing-time break out. Then affrays between suitors are frequent and -lively, though not serious. The two rivals stand face to face, bite -each other in the head, that solid, fang-proof helmet, roll each other -over, pick themselves up and separate. The vanquished Cricket makes off -as fast as he can; the victor insults him with a boastful ditty; then, -moderating his tone, he veers and tacks around the object of his -desires. - -He makes himself look smart and, at the same time, submissive. Gripping -one of his antennæ with a claw, he takes it in his mandibles to curl it -and grease it with saliva. With his long spurred and red-striped -hind-legs, he stamps the ground impatiently and kicks out at nothing. -His emotion renders him dumb. His wing-cases, it is true, quiver -rapidly, but they give forth no sound, or at most an agitated rustling. - -A vain declaration! The female Cricket runs and hides herself in a -curly bit of lettuce. She lifts the curtain a little, however, and -looks out and wishes to be seen. - - - Et fugit ad salices; et se cupit ante videri, [71] - - -said the delightful eclogue, two thousand years ago. Thrice-consecrated -strategy of love, thou art everywhere the same! - -The song is resumed, intersected by silences and murmuring quavers. -Touched by so much passion, Galatea, I mean Dame Cricket, issues from -her hiding-place. The other goes up to her, suddenly spins round, turns -his back to her and flattens his abdomen against the ground. Crawling -backwards, he makes repeated efforts to slip underneath. The curious -backward manœuvre at last succeeds. Gently, my little one, gently! -Discreetly flattened out, you manage to slide under. That’s done it! We -have our couple. A spermatophore, a granule smaller than a pin’s head, -hangs where it ought to. The meadows will have their Crickets next -year. - -The laying of the eggs follows soon after. Then this cohabitation in -couples in a cage often brings about domestic quarrels. The father is -knocked about and crippled; his violin is smashed to bits. Outside my -cells, in the open fields, the hen-pecked husband is able to take to -flight; and that indeed is what he appears to do, not without good -reason. - -This ferocious aversion of the mother for the father, even among the -most peaceable, gives food for thought. The sweetheart of but now, if -he come within reach of the lady’s teeth, is eaten more or less; he -does not escape from the final interviews without leaving a leg or two -and some shreds of wing-cases behind him. Locusts and Crickets, those -lingering representatives of a bygone world, tell us that the male, a -mere secondary wheel in life’s original mechanism, has to disappear at -short notice and make room for the real propagator, the real worker, -the mother. - -Later, in the higher order of creation, sometimes even among insects, -he is awarded a task as a collaborator; and nothing better could be -desired: the family must needs gain by it. But the Cricket, faithful to -the old traditions, has not yet got so far. Therefore the object of -yesterday’s longing becomes to-day an object of hatred, ill-treated, -disembowelled and eaten up. - -Even when free to escape from his pugnacious mate, the superannuated -Cricket soon perishes, a victim to life. In June, all my captives -succumb, some dying a natural, others a violent death. The mothers -survive for some time in the midst of their newly-hatched family. But -things happen differently when the males have the advantage of -remaining bachelors: they then enjoy a remarkable longevity. Let me -relate the facts. - -We are told that the music-loving Greeks used to keep Cicadæ in cages, -the better to enjoy their singing. I venture to disbelieve the whole -story. In the first place, the harsh clicking of the Cicadæ, when long -continued at close quarters, is a torture to ears that are at all -delicate. The Greeks’ sense of hearing was too well-disciplined to take -pleasure in such raucous sounds away from the general concert of the -fields, which is heard at a distance. - -In the second place, it is absolutely impossible to bring up Cicadæ in -captivity, unless we cover over an olive-tree or a plane-tree, which -would supply us with a vivarium very difficult to instal on a -window-sill. A single day spent in a cramped enclosure would make the -high-flying insect die of boredom. - -Is it not possible that people have confused the Cricket with the -Cicada, as they also do the Green Grasshopper? With the Cricket they -would be quite right. He is one who bears captivity gaily: his -stay-at-home ways predispose him to it. He lives happily and whirrs -without ceasing in a cage no larger than a man’s fist, provided that we -serve him with his lettuce-leaf every day. Was it not he whom the small -boys of Athens reared in little wire cages hanging on a window-frame? - -Their successors in Provence and all over the south have the same -tastes. In the towns, a Cricket becomes the child’s treasured -possession. The insect, petted and pampered, tells him in its ditty of -the simple joys of the country. Its death throws the whole household -into a sort of mourning. - -Well, these recluses, these compulsory celibates, live to be -patriarchs. They keep fit and well long after their cronies in the -fields have succumbed; and they go on singing till September. Those -additional three months, a long space of time, double their existence -in the adult form. - -The cause of this longevity is obvious. Nothing wears one out so -quickly as life. The wild Crickets have gaily spent their reserves of -energy on the ladies; the more fervent their ardour, the speedier their -dissolution. The others, their incarcerated kinsmen, leading a very -quiet life, have acquired a further period of existence by reason of -their forced abstinence from too costly joys. Having neglected to -perform the superlative duty of a Cricket, they obstinately refuse to -die until the very last moment. - -A brief study of the three other Crickets of my neighbourhood has -taught me nothing of any interest. Possessing no fixed abode, no -burrow, they wander about from one temporary shelter to another, under -the dry grass or in the cracks of the clods. They all carry the same -musical instrument as the Field Cricket, with slight variations of -detail. Their song is much alike in all cases, allowing for differences -of size. The smallest of the family, the Bordeaux Cricket, stridulates -outside my door, under the cover of the box borders. He even ventures -into the dark corners of the kitchen, but his song is so faint that it -takes a very attentive ear to hear it and to discover at last where the -insect lies hidden. - -In our part of the world, we do not have the House Cricket, that -denizen of bakers’ shops and rural fireplaces. But, though the crevices -under the hearthstones in my village are silent, the summer nights make -amends by filling the country-side with a charming symphony unknown in -the north. Spring, during its sunniest hours, has the Field Cricket as -its musician; the calm summer nights have the Italian Cricket (Œcanthus -pellucens, Scop.). One diurnal, the other nocturnal, they share the -fine weather between them. By the time that the first has ceased to -sing, it is not long before the other begins his serenade. - -The Italian Cricket has not the black dress and the clumsy shape -characteristic of the family. He is, on the contrary, a slender, -fragile insect, quite pale, almost white, as beseems his nocturnal -habits. You are afraid of crushing him, if you merely take him in your -fingers. He leads an aerial existence on shrubs of every kind, or on -the taller grasses; and he rarely descends to earth. His song, the -sweet music of the still, hot evenings from July to October, begins at -sunset and continues for the best part of the night. - -This song is known to everybody here, for the smallest clump of bushes -has its orchestra. It is heard even in the granaries, into which the -insect sometimes strays, attracted by the fodder. But the pale -Cricket’s ways are so mysterious that nobody knows exactly the source -of the serenade, which is very erroneously ascribed to the Common Black -Cricket, who at this period is quite young and silent. - -The song is a soft, slow gri-i-i, gri-i-i, which is rendered more -expressive by a slight tremolo. On hearing it, we divine both the -extreme delicacy and the size of the vibrating membranes. If nothing -happen to disturb the insect, settled in the lower leaves, the sound -remains unaltered; but, at the least noise, the executant becomes a -ventriloquist. You heard him here, quite close, in front of you; and -now, all of a sudden, you hear him over there, fifteen yards away, -continuing his ditty softened by distance. - -You move across. Nothing. The sound comes from the original place. No, -it doesn’t, after all. This time, it is coming from over there, on the -left, or rather from the right; or is it from behind? We are absolutely -at a loss, quite unable to guide ourselves by the ear towards the spot -where the insect is chirping. - -It needs a fine stock of patience and the most minute precautions to -capture the singer by the light of a lantern. The few specimens caught -under these conditions and caged have supplied me with the little that -I know about the musician who is so clever at baffling our ears. - -The wing-cases are both formed of a broad, dry, diaphanous membrane, -fine as a white onion-skin and capable of vibrating throughout its -whole area. They are shaped like a segment of a circle thinning towards -the upper end. This segment folds back at right angles along a -prominent longitudinal vein and forms a flap which encloses the -insect’s side when at rest. - -The right wing-case lies above the left. Its inner edge bears -underneath, near the root, a knob which is the starting-point of five -radiating veins, of which two run upwards, two downwards and the fifth -almost transversely. The last-named, which is slightly reddish, is the -main part, in short the bow, as is shown by the fine notches cut across -it. The rest of the wing-case presents a few other veins of minor -importance, which keep the membrane taut without forming part of the -friction-apparatus. - -The left or lower wing-case is similarly constructed, with this -difference that the bow, the knob and the veins radiating from it now -occupy the upper surface. We find, moreover, that the two bows, the -right and the left, cross each other obliquely. - -When the song has its full volume, the wing-cases, raised high up and -resembling a pair of large gauze sails, touch only at their inner -edges. Then the two bows fit into each other slantwise and their mutual -friction produces the sonorous vibration of the two stretched -membranes. - -The sound appears to be modified according as the strokes of each bow -bear upon the knob, which is itself wrinkled, on the opposite -wing-case, or upon one of the four smooth radiating veins. This would -go some way towards explaining the illusions produced by music which -seems to come from here, there and everywhere when the timid insect -becomes distrustful. - -The illusion of loud or soft, open or muffled sounds and consequently -of distance, which forms the chief resource of the ventriloquist’s art, -has another, easily discovered source. For the open sounds, the -wing-cases are raised to their full height; for the muffled sounds, -they are lowered more or less. In the latter position, their outer -edges press to a varying extent upon the insect’s yielding sides, thus -more or less decreasing the vibratory surface and reducing the volume -of sound. - -A gentle touch with one’s finger stifles the sound of a ringing -wine-glass and changes it into a veiled, indefinite note that seems to -come from afar. The pale Cricket knows this acoustic secret. He -misleads those who are hunting for him by pressing the edges of his -vibrating flaps against his soft abdomen. Our musical instruments have -their dampers, their sourdines; that of Œcanthus pellucens vies with -and surpasses them in the simplicity of its method and the perfection -of its results. - -The Field Cricket and his kinsmen also employ the sourdine by clasping -their abdomen higher or lower with the edge of their wing-cases; but -none of them obtains from this procedure such deceptive effects as -those of the Italian Cricket. - -In addition to this illusion of distance, which, at the faintest sound -of footsteps, is constantly taking us by surprise, we have the purity -of the note, with its soft tremolo. I know no prettier or more limpid -insect song, heard in the deep stillness of an August evening. How -often, per amica silentia lunæ, [72] have I lain down on the ground, -screened by the rosemary-bushes, to listen to the delicious concert of -the harmas! [73] - -The nocturnal Cricket swarms in the enclosure. Every tuft of -red-flowering rock-rose has its chorister; so has every clump of -lavender. The bushy arbutus-shrubs, the turpentine-trees, all become -orchestras. And, with its clear and charming voice, the whole of this -little world is sending questions and responses from shrub to shrub, or -rather, indifferent to the hymns of others, chanting its gladness for -itself alone. - -High up, immediately above my head, the Swan stretches its great cross -along the Milky Way; below, all around me, the insects’ symphony rises -and falls. The infinitesimal telling its joys makes me forget the -pageant of the stars. We know nothing of those celestial eyes which -look down upon us, placid and cold, with scintillations that are like -blinking eyelids. Science tells us of their distance, their speed, -their mass, their volume; it overwhelms us with enormous figures, -stupefies us with immensities; but it does not succeed in stirring a -fibre within us. Why? Because it lacks the great secret, that of life. -What is there up there? What do those suns warm? Worlds like ours, -reason declares; planets whereon life revolves in infinite variety. It -is a superb conception of the universe, but, when all is said, only a -conception, not supported by obvious facts, those supreme proofs within -the reach of all. The probable, the extremely probable, is not the -manifest, which forces itself upon us irresistibly and leaves no room -for doubt. - -In your company, on the contrary, O my Crickets, I feel the throbbing -of life, which is the soul of our lump of clay; and that is why, under -my rosemary-hedge, I give but an absent glance at the constellation of -the Swan and devote all my attention to your serenade! A dab of -animated glair, capable of pleasure and of pain, surpasses in interest -the immensity of brute matter. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE LOCUSTS: THEIR FUNCTION; THEIR ORGAN OF SOUND - - -“Mind you are ready, children, to-morrow morning, before the sun gets -too hot: we are going Locust-hunting.” - -This announcement throws the household into great excitement at -bed-time. What do my little helpmates see in their dreams? Blue wings, -red wings, suddenly flung out fanwise; long, saw-toothed legs, -pale-blue or pink, which kick out when we hold their owners in our -fingers; great shanks acting as springs that make the insect leap -forward like a projectile shot from some dwarf catapult hidden in the -grass. - -What they behold in sleep’s sweet magic lantern I also happen to see. -Life lulls us with the same simple things in its first stages and its -last. - -If there be one peaceful and safe form of hunting, one that comes -within the powers of old age and childhood alike, it is Locust-hunting. -Oh, what delicious mornings we owe to it! What happy moments when the -mulberries are black and allow my assistants to go pilfering here and -there in the bushes! What memorable excursions on the slopes covered -with sparse grass, tough and burnt yellow by the sun! I retain a vivid -recollection of all this; and my children will do the same. - -Little Paul has nimble legs, a ready hand and a piercing eye. He -inspects the clumps of everlastings where the Tryxalis solemnly nods -his sugar-loaf head; he scrutinizes the bushes out of which the big -Grey Locust suddenly flies like a little bird surprised by the hunter. -Great disappointment on the part of the latter, who, after first -rushing off at full speed, stops and gazes in wonder at this mock -Swallow flying far away. He will have better luck another time. We -shall not go home without a few of those magnificent prizes. - -Younger than her brother, Marie Pauline patiently watches for the -Italian Locust, with his pink wings and carmine hind-legs; but she -really prefers another jumper, the most elegantly attired of all. Her -favourite wears a St. Andrew’s cross on the small of his back, which is -marked by four white, slanting stripes. His livery has patches of -verdigris, the exact colour of the patina on old bronze medals. With -her hand raised in the air, ready to swoop down, she approaches very -softly, stooping low. Whoosh! That’s done it! Quick, a screw of paper -to receive the treasure, which, thrust head first into the opening, -plunges with one bound to the bottom of the funnel. - -Thus are our bags distended one by one; thus are our boxes filled. -Before the heat becomes too great to bear, we are in possession of a -number of varied specimens which, raised in captivity, will perhaps -teach us something, if we know how to question them. Thereupon we go -home again. The Locust has made three people happy at a small cost. - -The first question that I put to my boarders is this: - -“What function do you perform in the fields?” - -You have a bad reputation, I know; the text-books describe you as -noxious. Do you deserve this reproach? I take the liberty of doubting -it, except, of course, in the case of the terrible ravagers who form -the scourge of Africa and the east. - -The ill repute of those voracious eaters has left its mark on you all, -though I look upon you as much more useful than injurious. Never, so -far as I know, have our peasants complained of you. What damage could -they lay to your charge? - -You nibble the tops of the tough grasses which the Sheep refuses to -touch; you prefer the lean swards to the fat pastures; you browse on -sterile land where none but you would find the wherewithal to feed -himself; you live upon what could never be used without the aid of your -healthy stomach. - -Besides, by the time that you frequent the fields, the only thing that -might tempt you, the green wheat, has long since yielded its grain and -disappeared. If you happen to get into the kitchen-gardens and levy -toll on them to some slight extent, it is not a rank offence. A man can -console himself for a piece bitten out of a leaf or two of salad. - -To measure the importance of things by the foot-rule of one’s own -turnip-patch is a horrible method, which makes us forget the essential -for the sake of a trivial detail. The short-sighted man would upset the -order of the universe rather than sacrifice a dozen plums. If he thinks -of the insect at all, it is only to speak of its extermination. - -Fortunately, this is not and never will be in his power. Look at the -consequences, for instance, of the disappearance of the Locust, who is -accused of stealing a few crumbs from earth’s rich table. In September -and October, the Turkeys are driven into the stubble-fields, under the -charge of a child armed with two long reeds. The expanse over which the -gobbling flock slowly spreads is bare, dry and burnt by the sun. At the -most, a few ragged thistles raise their belated heads. What do the -birds do in a desert like this, simply reeking with famine? They cram -themselves, in order to do honour to the Christmas table; they wax fat; -their flesh becomes firm and appetizing. With what, pray? With Locusts, -whom they snap up here and there, a delicious stuffing for their greedy -crops. This autumnal manna, which costs nothing and is richly -flavoured, contributes to the elaboration and the improvement of the -succulent roast that will be so largely eaten on the festive evening. - -When the Guinea-fowl, that domesticated game-bird, roams around the -farm, uttering her rasping note, what is it that she seeks? Seeds, no -doubt, but, above all things, Locusts, who puff her out under the wings -with a pad of fat and give greater flavour to her flesh. - -The Hen, much to our advantage, is just as fond of them. She well knows -the virtues of that dainty dish, which acts as a tonic and increases -her laying-capacity. When left at liberty, she hardly ever fails to -lead her family to the stubble-fields, so that they may learn how to -snap up the exquisite mouthful deftly. In fact, all the denizens of the -poultry-yard, when free to wander about at will, owe to the Locust a -valuable addition to their diet. - -It becomes a much more important matter outside our domestic fowls. If -you are a sportsman, if you are able to appreciate the value of the -Red-legged Partridge, the glory of our southern hills, open the crop of -the bird which you have just brought down. You will see that it -contains a splendid certificate to the services rendered by the -much-maligned insect. You will find it, nine times out of ten, more or -less crammed with Locusts. The Partridge dotes on them, prefers them to -seed as long as he is able to catch them. This highly-flavoured, -substantial, stimulating fare would almost make him forget the -existence of seeds, if it were only there all the year round. - -Let us now consult the illustrious black-footed tribe, so warmly -celebrated by Tousserel. [74] The head of the family is the Wheatear, -the Cul-blanc, [75] as the Provençal calls him, who grows disgracefully -fat in September and supplies delicious material for the skewer. At the -time when I used to indulge in ornithological expeditions, I made a -practice of jotting down the contents of the birds’ crops and gizzards, -so as to become acquainted with their diet. Here is the Wheatear’s bill -of fare: Locusts, first of all; next, many various kinds of Beetles, -such as Weevils, Opatra, Chrysomelæ, or Golden-apple-beetles, Cassidæ, -or Tortoise-beetles, and Harpali; in the third place, Spiders, Iuli, -[76] Woodlice and small Snails; lastly and rarely, bramble-berries and -the berries of the Cornelian cherry. - -As you see, there is a little of all kinds of small game, just as it -comes. The insect-eater does not turn his attention to berries except -in the last resort, at seasons of dearth. Out of forty-eight cases -mentioned in my notes, vegetable food appears only three times, in -trifling proportions. The predominant item, both as regards frequency -and quantity, is the Locust, the smaller specimens being chosen, in -order not to tax the bird’s swallowing-powers. - -Even so with the other little birds of passage which, when autumn -comes, call a halt in Provence and prepare for the great pilgrimage by -accumulating on their rumps a travelling-allowance of fat. All of them -feast on the Locust, that rich fare; all, in the waste lands and -fallows, gather as best they can the hopping tit-bit, that source of -vigour for flying. Locusts are the manna of little birds on their -autumnal journey. - -Nor does man himself scorn them. An Arab author quoted by General -Daumas [77] in his book, Le Grand désert, tells us: - - - “Grasshoppers [78] are of good nourishment for men and Camels. - Their claws, wings and head are taken away and they are eaten fresh - or dried, either roast or boiled and served with flesh, flour and - herbs. - - “When dried in the sun, they are ground to powder and mixed with - milk or kneaded with flour; and they are then cooked with fat or - with butter and salt. - - “Camels eat them greedily and are given them dried or roast, heaped - in a hollow between two layers of charcoal. Thus also do the - Nubians eat them. - - “When Miriam [79] prayed God that she might eat flesh unpolluted by - blood, God sent her Grasshoppers. - - “When the wives of the Prophet were sent Grasshoppers as a gift, - they placed some of these in baskets and sent them to other women. - - “Once, when the Caliph Omar was asked if it were lawful to eat - Grasshoppers, he made answer: - - “‘Would that I had a basket of them to eat!’ - - “Wherefore, from this testimony, it is very sure that, by the grace - of God, Grasshoppers were given to man for his nourishment.” - - -Without going so far as the Arab naturalist, which would presuppose a -power of digestion not bestowed on every man, I feel entitled to say -that the Locust is a gift of God to a multitude of birds, as witness -the long array of gizzards which I consulted. - -Many others, notably the reptile, hold him in esteem. I have found him -in the belly of the Rassado, that terror of the small girls of -Provence, I mean the Eyed Lizard, who loves rocky shelters turned into -a furnace by a torrid sun. And I have often caught the little Grey -Lizard of the walls in the act of carrying off, in his tapering snout, -the spolia opima of some long-awaited Acridian. - -Even fish revel in him, when good fortune brings him to them. The -Locust’s leap has no definite goal. A projectile discharged blindly, -the insect comes down wherever the unpremeditated release of its -springs shoots it. If the place where it falls happen to be the water, -a fish is there at once to gobble up the dripping victim. It is -sometimes a fatal dainty, for anglers use the Locust when they wish to -bait their hook with a particularly attractive morsel. - -Without expatiating further on the devourers of this small game, I can -clearly see the great usefulness of the Acridian who by successive -leaps transmits to man, that most wasteful of eaters, the lean grass -now converted into exquisite fare. Gladly therefore would I say, with -the Arab writer: - -“Wherefore, from this testimony, it is very sure that, by the grace of -God, Grasshoppers were given to man for his nourishment.” - -One thing alone makes me hesitate: the direct consumption of the -Locust. As regards indirect consumption, under the form of Partridge, -young Turkey and others, none will think of denying him his praises. Is -direct consumption then so unpleasant? That was not the opinion of -Omar, [80] the mighty caliph, the destroyer of the library of -Alexandria. His stomach was as rude as his intellect; and, by his own -account, he would have relished a basket of Grasshoppers. - -Long before him, others were content to eat them, though in this case -it was a wise frugality. Clad in his Camel’s-hair garment, St. John the -Baptist, the bringer of good tidings and the great stirrer of the -populace in the days of Herod, lived in the desert on Grasshoppers and -wild honey: - -“And his meat was locusts and wild honey,” says the Gospel according to -St. Matthew. - -Wild honey I know, if only from the pots of the Chalicodoma. [81] It is -a very agreeable food. There remains the Grasshopper of the desert, -otherwise the Locust. In my youth, like every small boy, I appreciated -a Grasshopper’s leg, which I used to eat raw. It is not without -flavour. To-day let us rise a peg higher and try the fare of Omar and -St. John the Baptist. - -I capture some fat Locusts and have them cooked in a very rough and -ready fashion, fried with butter and salt, as the Arab author -prescribes. We all of us, big and little, partake of the queer dish at -dinner. We pronounce favourably upon the caliph’s delicacy. It is far -superior to the Cicadæ extolled by Aristotle. It has a certain shrimpy -flavour, a taste that reminds one of grilled Crab; and, were it not -that the shell is very tough for such slight edible contents, I would -go to the length of saying that it is good, without, however, feeling -any desire for more. - -My curiosity as a naturalist has now twice allowed itself to be tempted -by the dishes of antiquity: Cicadæ first; Locusts next. Neither the one -nor the other roused my enthusiasm. We must leave these things to the -powerful jaws of the negroes and the huge appetite of which the famous -caliph gave proof. - -The queasiness of our stomachs, however, in no way decreases the -Locusts’ merits. Those little browsers of the burnt grass play a great -part in the workshop where our food is prepared. They swarm in vast -legions which roam over the barren wastes, pecking here and there, -turning what could not otherwise be used into a foodstuff which is -passed on to a host of consumers, including, first and foremost, the -bird that often falls to man’s share. - -Pricked relentlessly by the needs of the stomach, the world knows no -more imperative duty than the acquisition of food. To secure a seat in -the refectory, each animal expends its sum total of activity, industry, -toil, trickery and strife; and the general banquet, which should be a -joy, is to many a torment. Man is far from escaping the miseries of the -struggle for food. On the contrary, only too often he tastes them in -all their bitterness. - -Ingenious as he is, will he succeed in freeing himself from them? -Science says yes. Chemistry promises, in the near future, a solution of -the problem of subsistence. The sister science, physics, is preparing -the way. Already it is contemplating how to get more and better work -done by the sun, that great sluggard who thinks that he has done his -duty by us when he sweetens our grapes and ripens our corn. It will -bottle his heat, garner his rays, in order to control them and employ -them where we think fit. - -With these supplies of energy, the hearths will blaze, the wheels will -turn, the pestles pound, the graters grate, the rollers grind; and the -work of agriculture, so wasteful at present, thwarted as it is by the -inclemency of the seasons, will become factory-work, yielding -economical and safe returns. - -Then chemistry will step in, with its legion of cunning reagents. It -will turn everything into nutritious matter, in a highly concentrated -form, capable of being assimilated in its entirety and leaving hardly -any foul residue. A loaf of bread will be a pill; a rumpsteak a drop of -jelly. Of agricultural labour, the inferno of barbarian times, nothing -will remain but a memory, of interest only to the historians. The last -Sheep and the last Ox will figure, neatly stuffed, as curiosities in -our museums, together with the Mammoth dug up from the Siberian -ice-fields. - -All that old lumber—herds and flocks, seeds, fruits and vegetables—is -doomed to disappear some day. Progress demands it, we are told; and the -chemist’s retort, which, in its presumptuous fashion, recognizes -nothing as impossible, repeats the assertion. - -This golden age of foodstuffs leaves me very incredulous. When it is a -question of obtaining some new toxin, science displays alarming -ingenuity. Our laboratory collections are veritable arsenals of -poisons. When the object is to invent a still in which potatoes shall -be made to yield torrents of alcohol capable of turning us into a -nation of sots, the resources of industry know no limits. But to -procure by artificial means a single mouthful of really nourishing -matter is a very different business. Never has any such product -simmered in our retorts. The future, beyond a doubt, will do no better. -Organized matter, the only true food, escapes the formulæ of the -laboratory. Its chemist is life. - -We shall do well therefore to preserve agriculture and our herds. Let -us leave our nourishment to be prepared by the patient work of plants -and animals, let us mistrust the brutal factory and keep our confidence -for more delicate methods and, in particular, for the Locust’s stomach, -which assists in the making of the Christmas Turkey. That stomach has -culinary receipts which the chemist’s retort will always envy without -succeeding in imitating them. - -This picker-up of nutritive trifles, destined to support a crowd of -paupers, possesses musical powers wherewith to express his joys. -Consider a Locust at rest, blissfully digesting his meal and enjoying -the sunshine. With sharp strokes of the bow, three or four times -repeated and spaced with pauses, he sings his ditty. He scrapes his -sides with his great hind-legs, using now one, now the other, anon both -at a time. - -The result is very poor, so slight indeed that I am obliged to have -recourse to little Paul’s ear in order to make sure that there is a -sound at all. Such as it is, it resembles the creaking of the point of -a needle pushed across a sheet of paper. There you have the whole song, -so near akin to silence. - -There is nothing more to be expected from so rudimentary an instrument. -We have nothing here similar to what the Grasshopper clan have shown -us: no toothed bow, no vibrating membrane stretched into a drum. Let -us, for instance, take a look at the Italian Locust (Caloptenus -italicus, Lin.), whose apparatus of sound is repeated in the other -stridulating Acridians. His hinder thighs are keel-shaped above and -below. Each surface, moreover, has two powerful longitudinal nervures. -Between these main parts there is, in either case, a graduated row of -smaller, chevron-shaped nervures; and the whole thing is as prominent -and as plainly marked on this outer side as on the inner one. And what -surprises me even more than this similarity between the two surfaces is -that all these nervures are smooth. Lastly, the lower edge of the -wing-cases, the edge rubbed by the thighs which serve as a bow, also -has nothing particular about it. We see, as indeed we do all over the -wing-cases, nervures that are powerful but devoid of any rasping -roughness or the least denticulation. - -What can this artless attempt at a musical instrument produce? Just as -much as a dry membrane will emit when you rub it. And for the sake of -this trifle the insect lifts and lowers its thighs, in sharp jerks, and -is satisfied with the result. It rubs its sides very much as we rub our -hands together in sign of contentment, with no intention of making a -sound. That is its own particular way of expressing its joy in life. - -Examine it when the sky is partly obscured and the sun shines -intermittently. There comes a rift in the clouds. Forthwith the thighs -begin to scrape, increasing their activity as the sun grows hotter. The -strains are very brief, but they are renewed so long as the sunshine -continues. The sky becomes overcast. Then and there the song ceases, to -be resumed with the next gleam of sunlight, always in brief spasms. -There is no mistaking it: here, in these fond lovers of the light, we -have a mere expression of happiness. The Locust has his moments of -gaiety when his crop is full and the sun benign. - -Not all the Acridians indulge in this joyous rubbing. The Tryxalis -(Truxalis nasuta, Lin.), who sports a pair of immensely elongated -hind-legs, maintains a gloomy silence even under the most vigorous -caresses of the sun. I have never seen him move his shanks like a bow; -he seems unable to use them—so long are they—for anything but hopping. - -Dumb likewise, apparently as a consequence of the excessive length of -his hind-legs, the big Grey Locust (Pachytilus cinerescens, Fabr.) has -a peculiar way of diverting himself. The giant often visits me in the -enclosure, even in the depth of winter. In calm weather, when the sun -is hot, I surprise him in the rosemaries, with his wings unfurled and -fluttering rapidly for a quarter of an hour at a time, as though for -flight. His twirling is so gentle, in spite of its extreme speed, as to -create hardly a perceptible rustle. - -Others still are much less well-endowed. One such is the Pedestrian -Locust (Pezotettix pedestris, Lin.), the companion of the Alpine -Analota on the ridges of the Ventoux. This foot-passenger strolling -amid the paronychias (P. serpyllifola) which lie spread in silvery -expanses over the Alpine region; this short-jacketed hopper, the guest -of the androsaces (A. villosa), whose tiny flowers, white as the -neighbouring snows, smile from out of their rosy eyes, has the same -fresh colouring as the plants around him. The sunlight, less veiled in -mists in the loftier regions, has made him a costume combining beauty -and simplicity: a pale-brown satin back; a yellow abdomen; big thighs -coral-red below; hind-legs a glorious azure-blue, with an ivory anklet -in front. But, being incapable of going beyond the larval form, this -dandy remains short-coated. - -He has for wing-cases two wrinkled slips, distant one from the other -and hardly covering the first segment of the abdomen, and for wings two -stumps that are even more abbreviated. All this hardly covers his -nakedness down to the waist. Any one seeing him for the first time -takes him for a larva and is wrong. It is indeed the adult insect, ripe -for mating; and the insect will remain in this undress to the end. - -Is it necessary to add that, with this skimpy jacket, stridulation is -impossible? The big hind-thighs are there, it is true; but what is -lacking, for them to rub upon, is the grating surface, the edge of the -wing-cases. Whereas the other Locusts are not to be described as noisy, -this one is absolutely dumb. In vain have the most delicate ears around -me listened with might and main: there has never been the least sound -during the three months’ home breeding. This silent one must have other -means of expressing his joys and summoning his partner to the wedding. -What are they? I do not know. - -Nor do I know why the insect deprives itself of wings and remains a -plodding wayfarer, when its near kinsmen, on the same Alpine swards, -are excellently equipped for flight. It possesses the germs of wing and -wing-case, gifts which the egg gives to the larva; and it does not -think of using these germs by developing them. It persists in hopping, -with no further ambition; it is satisfied to go on foot, to remain a -Pedestrian Locust, as the nomenclators call it, when it might, one -would think, acquire wings, that higher mechanism of locomotion. - -Rapid flitting from crest to crest, over the valleys deep in snow; easy -flight from a shorn pasture to one not yet exploited: can these be -negligible advantages to the Pedestrian Locust? Obviously not. The -other Acridians and in particular his fellow-dwellers on the -mountain-tops possess wings and are all the better for them. What is -his reason for not doing as they do? It would be very profitable to -extract from their sheaths the sails which he keeps packed away in -useless stumps; and he does not do it. Why? - -“Arrested development,” says some one. - -Very well. Life is arrested half-way through its work; the insect does -not attain the ultimate form of which it bears the emblem. For all its -scientific turn of phrase, the reply is not really a reply at all. The -question returns under another guise: what causes that arrested -development? - -The larva is born with the hope of flying at maturity. As a pledge of -that fair future, it carries on its back four sheaths in which the -precious germs lie slumbering. Everything is arranged according to the -rules of normal evolution. Thereupon, suddenly, the organism does not -fulfil its promises; it is false to its engagements; it leaves the -adult insect without sails, leaves it with only useless rags. - -Are we to lay this nudity to the charge of the harsh conditions of -Alpine life? Not at all, for the other hoppers, living on the same -grassy slopes, manage very well to achieve the wings foretold by the -larva’s rudiments. - -Men tell us that, from one attempt to another, from progress to -progress, under the stimulus of necessity, animals end by acquiring -this or that organ. No other creative intervention is accepted than -that of need. This, for instance, is the way in which the Locusts went -to work, in particular those whom I see fluttering over the ridges of -the Ventoux. From their niggardly larval flaps they are supposed to -have extracted wings and wing-cases, by virtue of secret and mysterious -labours rendered fruitful by the centuries. - -Very well, O my illustrious masters! And now tell me, if you please, -what reasons persuaded the Pedestrian Locust not to go beyond his rude -outline of a flying-apparatus. He also, surely, must have felt the -prick of necessity for ages and ages; during his laborious tumbles amid -the broken stones, he must have felt the advantage that it would be for -him to be relieved of his weight by means of wing-power; and all the -endeavours of his organism, striving to achieve a better lot, have not -yet succeeded in spreading bladewise his incipient wings. - -If we accept your theories, under the same conditions of urgent -necessity, diet, climate and habits, some are successful and manage to -fly, others fail and remain clumsy pedestrians. Short of resting -satisfied with words and passing off chalk for cheese, I abandon the -explanations offered. Sheer ignorance is far preferable, for it -prejudges nothing. - -But let us leave this backward one who is a stage behind his kinsmen, -no one knows why. Anatomy has its throwbacks, its halts, its sudden -leaps, all of which defy our curiosity. In the presence of the -unfathomable problem of origins, the best thing is to bow in all -humility and pass on. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE LOCUSTS: THEIR EGGS - - -What can our Locusts do? Not much in the way of manufactures. Their -business in the world is that of alchemists who in their gourdlike -stomach elaborate and refine material destined for higher objects. As I -sit by my fireside, in the evening hours of meditation, scribbling -these notes upon the part which Locusts play in life, I am not prepared -to say that they have not contributed from time to time to the -awakening of thought, that magic mirror of things. They are on the -earth to thrive as best they can and to multiply, the latter being the -highest law of animals charged with the manufacture of foodstuffs. - -From the former point of view, if we except the all-devouring tribes -which at times imperil the very existence of Africa, the Locusts hardly -attract our attention. They are poor trenchermen; and I can surfeit a -whole barrack-room in my cages with a leaf of lettuce. As for the way -in which they multiply, that is another matter and one well worth a -moment’s attention. - -At the same time we must not look for the nuptial eccentricities of the -Grasshoppers. Despite close similarity of structure, we are here in a -new world as regards habits and character. In the peaceful Locust clan, -all that has to do with pairing is correct, free from impropriety and -conducted in accordance with the customary rites of the entomological -world. Any one keeping it under observation at the time of the -procreative frenzy will realize that the Locust came later than the -Grasshopper, after the primitive Orthopteron had sown his monstrous -wild oats. There is nothing striking to be said therefore on this -always delicate subject; and I am very glad of it. Let us pass on and -come to the eggs. - -At the end of August, a little before noon-day, let us keep a close -watch on the Italian Locust (Caloptenus italicus, Lin.), the boldest -hopper of my neighbourhood. He is a sturdy fellow, very free with his -kicks; and he is clad in short wing-cases that hardly reach the tip of -his abdomen. His costume is usually russet, with brown patches. A few -more elegant ones edge the corselet with a whitish hem which is -prolonged over the head and wing-cases. The wings are colourless except -at the base, where they are pink; the hinder shins are claret-coloured. - -The mother selects a suitable spot for her eggs on the side where the -sun is hottest and always at the edge of the cage, whose wirework -supplies her with a support in case of need. Slowly and laboriously she -drives her clumsy drill perpendicularly into the sand, this drill being -her abdomen, which disappears entirely. In the absence of proper -boring-tools, the descent underground is painful and hesitating, but is -at last accomplished thanks to perseverance, that powerful lever of the -weak. - -The mother is now installed, half-buried in the soil. She gives slight -starts, which follow one another at regular intervals and seem to -correspond with the efforts of the oviduct as it expels the eggs. The -neck gives throbs that lift and lower the head with slight jerks. Apart -from these pulsations of the head, the body, in its only visible half, -the fore-part, is absolutely stationary, so intense is the creature’s -absorption in her laying. It is not unusual for a male, by comparison a -dwarf, to come near and for a long time to gaze curiously at the -travailing mother. Sometimes also a few females stand around, with -their big faces turned towards their friend in labour. They seem to -take an interest in what is happening, perhaps saying to themselves -that it will be their turn soon. - -After some forty minutes of immobility, the mother suddenly releases -herself and bounds far away. She gives not a look at the eggs nor a -touch of the broom to conceal the aperture of the well. The hole closes -of its own accord, as best it can, by the natural falling-in of the -sand. It is an extremely summary performance, marked by an utter -absence of maternal solicitude. The Locust mother is not a model of -affection. - -Others do not forsake their eggs so recklessly. I can name the ordinary -Locust with the blue wings striped with black (Œdipoda cœrulescens, -Lin.); also Pachytylus nigrofasciatus, De Geer, whose cognomen lacks -point, for it ought to suggest either the malachite-green patches of -the costume or the white cross of the corselet. - -Both, when laying their eggs, adopt the same attitude as the Italian -Locust. The abdomen is driven perpendicularly into the soil; the rest -of the body partly disappears under the sliding sand. We again see a -long period of immobility, exceeding half an hour, together with little -jerks of the head, a sign of the underground efforts. - -The two mothers at last release themselves. With their hind-legs, -lifted on high, they sweep a little sand over the orifice of the pit -and press it down by stamping rapidly. It is a pretty sight to watch -the precipitous action of their slender legs, blue or pink, giving -alternate kicks to the opening which is waiting to be plugged. In this -manner, with a lively trampling, the entrance to the house is closed -and hidden away. The hole in which the eggs were laid disappears from -sight, so well obliterated that no evil-intentioned creature could hope -to discover it by means of vision alone. - -Nor is this all. The driving-power of the two rammers is the hinder -thighs, which, in rising and falling, scrape lightly against the edge -of the wing-cases. This bow-play produces a faint stridulation, similar -to that with which the insect placidly lulls itself to sleep in the -sun. - -The Hen salutes the egg which she has just laid with a song of -gladness; she announces her maternal joys, to the whole neighbourhood. -Even so does the Locust do in many cases. With her thin scraper, she -celebrates the advent of her family. She says: - -“Non omnis moriar; I have buried underground the treasure of the -future; I have entrusted to the incubation of the great hatcher a keg -of germs which will take my place.” - -Everything on the site of the nest is put right in one brief spell of -work. The mother then leaves the spot, refreshes herself after her -exertions with a few mouthfuls of green stuff and prepares to begin -again. - -The largest of the Acridians in our part of the country, the Grey -Locust (Pachytylus cinerescens, Fabr.), rivals the African Locusts in -size, without possessing their calamitous habits. He is peace-loving -and temperate and above reproach where the fruits of the earth are -concerned. From him we obtain a little information which is easily -verified by observing the insect in captivity. - -The eggs are laid about the end of April, a few days after the pairing, -which lasts some little while. The female is armed at the tip of the -abdomen—as, in varying degrees, are the other Locust mothers—with four -short excavators, arranged in pairs and shaped like a hooked -finger-nail. In the upper pair, which are larger, these hooks are -turned upwards; in the lower and smaller pair, they are turned -downwards. They form a sort of claw and are hard and black at the -point; also they are scooped out slightly, like a spoon, on their -concave surface. These are the pick-axes, the trepans, the -boring-tools. - -The mother bends her long abdomen perpendicularly to the line of the -body. With her four trepans she bites into the soil, lifting the dry -earth a little; then, with a very slow movement, she pushes down her -abdomen, making no apparent effort, displaying no excitement that would -reveal the difficulty of the task. - -The insect is motionless and contemplative. The boring-implement could -not work more quietly if it were sinking into soft mould. It might all -be happening in butter; and yet what the bore traverses is caked, -unyielding earth. - -It would be interesting, if it were only possible, to see the -perforating-tool, the four gimlets, at work. Unfortunately, things -happen in the mysteries of the earth. No rubbish rises to the surface; -nothing denotes the underground labour. Little by little the abdomen -sinks softly in, as our finger would sink into a lump of soft clay. The -four trepans must open the passage, crumbling the earth into dust which -is thrust back sideways by the abdomen and packed as with a gardener’s -dibble. - -The best site for laying the eggs is not always found at the first -endeavour. I have seen the mother drive her abdomen right in and make -five wells one after the other before finding a suitable place. The -pits recognized as defective are abandoned as soon as bored. They are -vertical, cylindrical holes, of the diameter of a thick lead-pencil and -astonishingly neat. No wimble would produce cleaner work. Their length -is that of the insect’s abdomen, distended as far as the extension of -the segments allows. - -At the sixth attempt, the spot is recognized as propitious. The laying -thereupon takes place, but nothing outside betrays the fact, so -motionless does the mother seem, with her abdomen immersed up to the -hilt, which causes the long wings lying on the ground to rumple and -open out. The operation lasts for a good hour. - -At last the abdomen rises, little by little. It is now near the -surface, in a favourable position for observation. The valves are in -continual movement, whipping a mucus which sets in milk-white foam. It -is very similar to the work done by the Mantis when enveloping her eggs -in froth. - -The foamy matter forms a nipple at the entrance to the well, a knob -which stands well up and attracts the eye by the whiteness of its -colour against the grey background of the soil. It is soft and sticky, -but hardens pretty soon. When this closing button is finished, the -mother moves away and troubles no more about her eggs, of which she -lays a fresh batch elsewhere after a few days have intervened. - -At other times, the terminal foamy paste does not reach the surface; it -stops some way down and, before long, is covered with the sand that -slips from the margin. There is then nothing outside to mark the place -where the eggs were laid. - -Even when they concealed the mouth of the well under a layer of swept -sand, my various captives, large and small, were too assiduously -watched by me to foil my curiosity. I know in every case the exact spot -where the barrel of eggs lies. The time has come to inspect it. - -The thing is easily discovered, an inch or an inch and a half down, -with the point of a knife. Its shape varies a good deal in the -different species, but the fundamental structure remains the same. It -is always a sheath made of solidified foam, a similar foam to that of -the nests of the Praying Mantis. Grains of sand stuck together give it -a rough outer covering. - -The mother has not actually made this coarse cover, which constitutes a -defensive wall. The mineral wrapper results from the simple -infiltration of the product, at first semifluid and viscous, that -accompanies the emission of the eggs. The wall of the pocket absorbs it -and, swiftly hardening, becomes a cemented scabbard, without the agency -of any special labour on the insect’s part. - -Inside, there is no foreign matter, nothing but foam and eggs. The -latter occupy only the lower portion, where they are immersed in a -frothy matrix and packed one on top of the other, slantwise. The upper -portion, which is larger in some cases than in others, consists solely -of soft, yielding foam. Because of the part which it plays when the -young larvæ come into existence, I shall call it the ascending-shaft. A -final point worthy of observation is that all the sheaths are planted -more or less vertically in the soil and end at the top almost level -with the ground. - -We will now describe specifically the layings which we find in the -cages. That of Pachytylus cinerescens is a cylinder six centimetres -long and eight millimetres wide. [82] The upper end, when it emerges -above the ground, swells into a nipple. All the rest is of uniform -thickness. The yellow-grey eggs are fusiform. Immersed in the froth and -arranged slantwise, they occupy only about a sixth part of the total -length. The rest of the structure is a fine, white, very powdery foam, -soiled on the outside by grains of earth. The eggs are not many in -number, about thirty; but the mother lays several batches. - -That of P. nigrofasciatus is shaped like a slightly curved cylinder, -rounded off at the lower end and cut square at the upper end. Its -dimensions are an inch to an inch and a half in length by a fifth of an -inch in width. The eggs, about twenty in number, are orange-red, -adorned with a pretty pattern of tiny spots. The frothy matrix in which -they are contained is small in quantity; but above them there is a long -column of very fine, transparent and porous foam. - -The Blue-winged Locust (Œdipoda cærulescens) arranges her eggs in a -sort of fat inverted comma. The lower portion contains the eggs in its -gourd-shaped pocket. They also are few in number, some thirty at most, -of a fairly bright orange-red, but unspotted. This receptable is -crowned with a curved, conical cap of foam. - -The lover of the mountain-tops, the Pedestrian Locust, adopts the same -method as the Blue-winged Locust, the denizen of the plains. Her sheath -too is shaped like a comma with the point turned upwards. The eggs, -numbering about two dozen, are dark-russet and are strikingly -ornamented with a delicate lacework of inwrought spots. You are quite -surprised when you pass the magnifying-glass over this unexpected -elegance. Beauty leaves its impress everywhere, even in the humble -covering of an unsightly Acridian incapable of flight. - -The Italian Locust begins by enclosing her eggs in a keg and then, when -on the point of sealing her receptacle, thinks better of it: something -essential, the ascending-shaft, is lacking. At the upper end, at the -point where it seems as if the barrel ought to finish and close, a -sudden compression changes the course of the work, which is prolonged -by the regulation foamy appendage. In this way, two storeys are -obtained, clearly defined on the outside by a deep groove. The lower, -which is oval in shape, contains the packet of eggs; the upper, -tapering into the tail of a comma, consists of nothing but foam. The -two communicate by an opening that remains more or less free. - -The Locust’s art is not confined to these specimens of architecture. -She knows how to construct other strong-boxes for her eggs; she can -protect them with all kinds of edifices, some simple, others more -ingenious, but all worthy of our attention. Those with which we are -familiar are very few compared with those of which we are ignorant. No -matter: what the cages reveal to us is sufficient to enlighten us as to -the general form. It remains for us to learn how the building—an -egg-warehouse below, a foamy turret above—is constructed. - -Direct observation is impracticable here. If we took it into our heads -to dig and to uncover the abdomen at work, the mother, worried by our -importunity, would leap away without telling us anything. Fortunately, -one Locust, the strangest of my district, reveals the secret to us. I -speak of the Tryxalis, the largest member of the family, after the Grey -Locust. - -Though inferior to the last-named in size, how far she exceeds her in -slenderness of figure and, above all, in originality of shape! On our -sun-scorched swards, none has a leaping-apparatus to compare with hers. -What hind-legs, what extravagant thighs, what shanks! They are longer -than the creature’s whole body. - -The result obtained hardly corresponds with this extraordinary length -of limb. The insect shuffles awkwardly along the edges of the vines, on -the sand sparsely covered with grass; it seems embarrassed by its -shanks, which are slow to work. With this equipment, weakened by its -excessive length, the leap is awkward, describing but a short parabola. -The flight alone, once taken, is of a certain range, thanks to an -excellent pair of wings. - -And then what a strange head! It is an elongated cone, a sugar-loaf, -whose point, turned up in the air, has earned for the insect the quaint -epithet of nasuta, long-nosed. At the top of this cranial promontory -are two large, gleaming, oval eyes and two antennæ, flat and pointed, -like dagger-blades. These rapiers are organs of information. The -Tryxalis lowers them, with a sudden swoop, to explore with their points -the object in which she is interested, the bit which she intends to -nibble. - -To this abnormal shape we must add another characteristic that makes -this long-shanks an exception among Acridians. The ordinary Locusts, a -peaceful tribe, live among themselves without strife, even when driven -by hunger. The Tryxalis, on the other hand, is somewhat addicted to the -cannibalism of the Grasshoppers. In my cages, in the midst of plenty, -she varies her diet and passes easily from salad to game. When tired of -green stuff, she does not scruple to exercise her jaws on her weaker -companions. - -This is the creature capable of giving us information about methods of -laying. In my cages, as the result of an aberration due no doubt to the -boredom of captivity, it has never laid its eggs in the ground. I have -always seen it operating in the open air and even perched on high. [83] -In the early days of October, the insect clings to the trelliswork of -the cage and very slowly discharges its batch of eggs, which we see -gushing forth in a fine, foamy stream, soon stiffening into a thick -cylindrical cord, knotty and queerly curved. It takes nearly an hour to -complete the emission. Then the thing falls to the ground, no matter -where, unheeded by the mother, who never troubles about it again. - -The shapeless object, which varies greatly in different layings, is at -first straw-coloured, then darkens and turns rusty-brown on the morrow. -The fore-part, which is the first ejected, usually consists only of -foam; the hinder part alone is fertile and contains the eggs, buried in -a frothy matrix. They are amber-yellow, about a score in number and -shaped like blunt spindles, eight to nine millimetres in length. [84] - -The sterile end, which is at least as big as the other, tells us that -the apparatus which produces the foam is in operation before the -oviduct and afterwards goes on while the latter is working. - -By what mechanism does the Tryxalis froth up her viscous product into a -porous column first and a mattress for the eggs afterwards? She must -certainly know the method of the Praying Mantis, who, with the aid of -spoon-shaped valves, whips and beats her glair and converts it into an -omelette soufflée; but in the Acridian’s case the frothing is done -within and there is nothing outside to betray its existence. The glue -is foamy from the moment of its appearing in the open air. - -In the Mantis’ building, that complex work of art, it is not a case of -any special talent, which the mother can exercise at will. The -wonderful egg-casket comes from the ordinary action of the mechanism, -is merely the outcome of the organization. A fortiori, the Tryxalis, in -discharging her clumsy sausage, is purely a machine. The thing happens -of itself. - -The same applies to the Locusts. They have no industry of their own -specially devised for laying eggs in strata in a keg of froth and -extending this keg into an ascending-shaft. The mother, with her -abdomen plunged into the sand, expels at the same time eggs and foamy -glair. The whole becomes coordinated of its own accord simply by the -mechanism of the organs: on the outside, the frothy material, which -coagulates and becomes encrusted with a bulwark of earth; in the centre -and at the bottom, the eggs arranged in regular strata; at the upper -end, a column of yielding foam. - -The Tryxalis and the Grey Locust are early hatchers. The latter’s -family are already hopping on the yellow patches of grass in August; -before October is out, we are frequently coming across young larvæ with -pointed skulls. But in most of the other Acridians the ovigerous -sheaths last through the winter and do not open until the fine weather -returns. They are buried at no great depth in a soil which is at first -loose and dusty and which would not be likely to interfere with the -emergence of the young larvæ if it remained as it is; but the winter -rains cake it together and turn it into a hard ceiling. Suppose that -the hatching takes place only a couple of inches down: how is this -crust to be broken, how is the larva to come up from below? The -mother’s unconscious art has provided for that. - -The Locust at his birth finds above him, not rough sand and hardened -earth, but a perpendicular tunnel whose solid walls keep all -difficulties at a distance, a road protected by a little -easily-penetrated foam, an ascending-shaft, in short, which brings the -new-born larva quite close to the surface. Here a finger’s-breadth of -serious obstacle remains to be overcome. - -The greater part of the emergence therefore is accomplished without -effort, thanks to the terminal appendage of the egg-barrel. If, in my -desire to follow the underground work of the exodus, I experiment in -glass tubes, almost all the new-born larvæ die, exhausted with fatigue, -under an inch of earth, when I do away with the liberating appendage to -the shells. They duly come to light if I leave the nest in its integral -condition, with the ascending-shaft pointing upwards. Though a -mechanical product of the organism, created without any effort of the -creature’s intelligence, the Locust’s edifice, we must confess, is -singularly well thought out. - -Having come quite close to the surface with the aid of his -ascending-shaft, what does the young Locust do to complete his -deliverance? He has still to pass through a layer of earth about a -finger’s-breadth in thickness; and that is very hard work for budding -flesh. - -If we keep the egg-cases in glass tubes during the favourable period, -the end of spring, we shall receive a reply to our question, provided -that we have the requisite patience. The Blue-winged Locusts lend -themselves best to my investigations. I find some of them busied with -the work of liberation at the end of June. - -The little Locust, on leaving his shell, is a whitish colour, clouded -with light red. His progress is made by wormlike movements; and, so -that it may be impeded as little as possible, he is hatched in the -condition of a mummy, that is to say, clad, like the young -Grasshoppers, in a temporary jacket, which keeps his antennæ, palpi and -legs closely fixed to his breast and belly. The head itself is very -much bent. The large hind-thighs are arranged side by side with the -folded shanks, shapeless as yet, short and as it were crooked. On the -way, the legs are slightly released; the hind-legs are straightened out -and afford a fulcrum for the sapping-work. - -The boring-tool, a repetition of the Grasshoppers’, is at the neck. -There is here a tumour that swells, subsides, throbs and strikes the -obstacle with pistonlike regularity. A tiny and most tender cervical -bladder engages in a struggle with quartz. At the sight of this capsule -of glair striving to overcome the hardness of the mineral, I am seized -with pity. I come to the unhappy creature’s assistance by slightly -damping the layer to be passed through. - -Despite my intervention, the task is so arduous that, in an hour, I see -the indefatigable one make a progress of hardly a twenty-fifth of an -inch. How you must labour, you poor little thing, how you must -persevere with your throbbing head and writhing loins, before you can -clear a passage for yourself through the thin layer which my kindly -drop of water has softened for you! - -The ineffectual efforts of the tiny mite tell us plainly that the -emergence into the light of day is an enormous undertaking, in which, -but for the aid of the exit-tunnel, the mother’s work, the greater -number would succumb. - -It is true that the Grasshoppers, similarly equipped, find it even more -difficult to make their way out of the earth. Their eggs are laid naked -in the ground; no outward passage is prepared for them beforehand. We -may assume, therefore, that the mortality must be very high among these -improvident ones; legions are bound to perish at the time of the -exodus. - -This is confirmed by the comparative scarcity of Grasshoppers and the -extreme abundance of Locusts. And yet the number of eggs laid is about -the same in both cases. The Locust does not, in fact, limit herself to -a single casket containing a score of eggs: she puts into the ground -two, three and more, which gives a total population approaching that of -the Decticus and other Grasshoppers. If, to the greater delight of the -consumers of small game, she thrives so well, whereas the Grasshopper, -who is quite as fertile but less ingenious, dwindles, does she not owe -it to that superb invention, her exit-turret? - -One last word upon the tiny insect which, for days on end, fights away -with its cervical rammer. It is outside at last and rests for a moment, -to recover from all that fatigue. Then, suddenly, under the thrust of -the throbbing blister, the temporary jacket splits. The rags are pushed -back by the hind-legs, which are the last to strip. The thing is done: -the creature is free, pale in colouring as yet, but possessing the -final larval form. - -Then and there, the hind-legs, hitherto stretched in a straight line, -adopt the regulation position; the legs fold under the great thighs; -and the spring is ready to work. It works. Little Locust makes his -entrance into the world and hops for the first time. I offer him a bit -of lettuce the size of my finger-nail. He refuses. Before taking -nourishment, he must first mature and develop for a while in the sun. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -THE LOCUSTS: THE LAST MOULT - - -I have just beheld a stirring sight: the last moult of a Locust, the -extraction of the adult from his larval wrapper. It is magnificent. The -object of my enthusiasm is the Grey Locust, the giant among our -Acridians, who is common on the vines at vintage-time, in September. On -account of his size—he is as long as my finger—he is a better subject -for observation than any other of his tribe. - -The fat, ungraceful larva, a rough draft of the perfect insect, is -usually pale-green; but some also are bluish-green, dirty-yellow, -red-brown or even ashen-grey, like the grey of the adult. The corselet -is strongly keeled and notched, with a sprinkling of fine white -worm-holes. The hind-legs, powerful as those of mature age, have a -great haunch striped with red and a long shank shaped like a two-edged -saw. - -The wing-cases, which in a few days will project well beyond the tip of -the abdomen, are in their present state two skimpy, triangular pinions, -touching back to back along their upper edges and continuing the keel -of the corselet. Their free ends stand up like a pointed gable. These -two coat-tails, of which the material seems to have been clipped short -with ridiculous meanness, just cover the creature’s nakedness at the -small of the back. They shelter two lean strips, the germs of the -wings, which are even more exiguous. In brief, the sumptuous, slender -sails of the near future are at present sheer rags, of such meagre -dimensions as to be grotesque. What will come out of these miserable -envelopes? A marvel of stately elegance. - -Let us observe the proceedings in detail. Feeling itself ripe for -transformation, the creature clutches the trelliswork of the cage with -its hinder and intermediary legs. The fore-legs are folded and crossed -over the breast and are not employed in supporting the insect, which -hangs in a reversed position, back downwards. The triangular pinions, -the sheaths of the wing-cases, open their peaked roof and separate -sideways; the two narrow strips, the germs of the wings, stand in the -centre of the uncovered space and diverge slightly. The position for -the moult has now been taken with the necessary stability. - -The first thing to be done is to burst the old tunic. Behind the -corselet, under the pointed roof of the prothorax, pulsations are -produced by alternate inflation and deflation. A similar operation is -performed in front of the neck and probably also under the entire -covering of the shell that is to be split. The delicacy of the -membranes at the joints enables us to perceive what is going on at -these bare points, but the harness of the corselet hides it from us in -the central portion. - -It is there that the insect’s reserves of blood flow in waves. The -rising tide expresses itself in blows of an hydraulic battering-ram. -Distended by this rush of humours, by this injection wherein the -organism concentrates its energies, the skin at last splits along a -line of least resistance prepared by life’s subtle previsions. The -fissure yawns all along the corselet, opening precisely over the keel, -as though the two symmetrical halves had been soldered. Unbreakable any -elsewhere, the wrapper yields at this median point which is kept weaker -than the rest. The split is continued some little way back and runs -between the fastenings of the wings; it goes up the head as far as the -base of the antennæ, where it sends a short ramification to the right -and left. - -Through this break the back is seen, quite soft, pale, hardly tinged -with grey. Slowly it swells into a larger and larger hunch. At last it -is wholly released. The head follows, extracted from its mask, which -remains in its place, intact in the smallest particular, but looking -strange with its great glassy eyes that do not see. The sheaths of the -antennæ, with not a wrinkle, with nothing out of order and with their -normal position unchanged, hang over this dead face, which is now -translucent. - -Therefore, in emerging from their narrow sheaths, which enclosed them -with such absolute precision, the antennary threads encountered no -resistance capable of turning their scabbards inside out, or disturbing -their shape, or even wrinkling them. Without injuring the twisted -containers, the contents, equal in size and themselves twisted, have -managed to slip out as easily as a smooth, straight object would do, if -sliding in a loose sheath. The extraction-mechanism will be still more -remarkable in the case of the hind-legs. - -Meanwhile it is the turn of the fore-legs and then of the intermediary -legs to shed armlets and gauntlets, always without the least rent, -however small, without a crease of rumpled material, without a trace of -any change in the natural position. The insect is now fixed to the top -of the cage only by the claws of the long hind-legs. It hangs -perpendicularly, head downwards, swinging like a pendulum, if I touch -the wire-gauze. Four tiny hooks are what it hangs by. If they gave way, -if they became unfastened, the insect would be lost, for it is -incapable of unfurling its enormous wings anywhere except in space. But -they will hold: life, before withdrawing from them, left them stiff and -solid, so as to be able firmly to support the struggles that are to -follow. - -The wing-cases and wings now emerge. These are four narrow strips, -faintly grooved and looking like bits of paper ribbon. At this stage, -they are scarcely a quarter of their final length. So limp are they -that they bend under their own weight and sprawl along the insect’s -sides in the opposite direction to the normal. Their free end, which -should be turned backwards, now points towards the head of the Locust, -who is hanging upside down. Imagine four blades of thick grass, bent -and battered by a rainstorm, and you will have a fair picture of the -pitiable bunch formed by the future organs of flight. - -It must be no light task to bring things to the requisite stage of -perfection. The deeper-seated changes are already well-started, -solidifying liquid mucilages, bringing order out of chaos; but so far -nothing outside betrays what is happening in that mysterious laboratory -where everything seems lifeless. - -Meanwhile, the hind-legs become released. The great thighs appear in -view, tinted on their inner surface with a pale pink, which will soon -turn into a streak of bright crimson. The emergence is easy, the bulky -haunch clearing the way for the tapering knuckle. - -It is different with the shank. This, in the adult insect, bristles -throughout its length with a double row of hard, pointed spikes. -Moreover, the lower extremity ends in four large spurs. It is a genuine -saw, but with two parallel sets of teeth and so powerful that, if we -dismiss the size from our minds, it might be compared with the rough -saw wielded by a quarryman. - -The larva’s shin is similarly constructed, so that the object to be -extracted is contained in a sheath as awkwardly shaped as itself. Each -spur is enclosed in a similar spur, each tooth fits into the hollow of -a similar tooth; and the moulding is so exact that we should obtain no -more intimate contact if, instead of the envelope waiting to be shed, -we coated the limb with a layer of varnish distributed uniformly with a -fine brush. - -Nevertheless the sawlike tibia slips out of its long, narrow case -without catching in it at any point whatever. If I had not seen this -happen over and over again, I could never have believed it: the -discarded legging is quite intact all the way down. Neither the -terminal spurs nor the two rows of spikes have caught in the delicate -mould. The saw has respected the dainty scabbard which a puff of my -breath is enough to tear; the formidable rake has slipped through -without leaving the least scratch behind it. - -I was far from expecting such a result as this. Because of the spiked -armour, I imagined that the leg would strip in scales which came loose -of themselves or yielded to rubbing, like dead cuticle. How greatly did -the reality exceed my expectations! - -From the spurs and spikes of the infinitely thin matrix there emerge -spurs and spikes that make the leg capable of cutting soft wood. This -is done without violence or the least inconvenience; and the discarded -garment remains where it is, hanging by the claws to the top of the -cage, uncreased and untorn. The magnifying-glass shows not a trace of -rough usage. As the thing was before the excoriation, so it remains -afterwards. The legging of dead skin continues, down to the pettiest -details, an exact replica of the live leg. - -If any one suggested that we should extract a saw from some sort of -goldbeater’s-skin sheath which had been exactly moulded on the steel -and that we should perform the operation without producing the least -tear, we should burst out laughing: the thing is so flagrantly -impossible. Life makes light of these impossibilities; it has methods -of realizing the absurd, in case of need. And the Locust’s leg tells us -so. - -If the saw of the shin were as hard as it is once it leaves its sheath, -it would absolutely refuse to come out without tearing to pieces the -tight-fitting scabbard. The difficulty therefore is evaded, for it is -essential that the leggings, which form the only suspension-cords, -should remain intact in order to furnish a firm support until the -deliverance is completed. - -The leg in process of liberation is not a limb fit for walking; it has -not the rigidity which it will presently possess. It is soft and highly -flexible. In the portion which the progress of the moult exposes to -view, I see it bending and curving as I wish, under the mere influence -of its own weight, when I lift the cage. It is as supple as elastic -cord. And yet consolidation follows very rapidly, for the proper -stiffness will be acquired in a few minutes. - -Farther on, in the part hidden from me by the sheath, the leg is -certainly softer and in a state of exquisite plasticity—I was almost -saying fluidity—which allows it to overcome difficult passages almost -as a liquid would flow. - -The teeth of the saw are there, but have none of their future -sharpness. I am able to strip a leg partially with the point of a knife -and to extract the spines from their horny mould. They are germs of -spikes, flexible buds which bend under the slightest pressure and -resume their upright position as soon as the pressure is removed. - -These spikes lie backwards when the leg is about to be drawn out; they -stand up again and solidify while it emerges. I am witnessing not the -mere stripping of gaiters from limbs completely enclosed, but rather a -sort of birth and growth which disconcert us by their rapidity. - -Much in the same way, but with far less delicate precision, do the -claws of the Crayfish, at moulting-time, withdraw the soft flesh of -their two fingers from the old stony sheath. - -The shanks are free at last. They are folded limply in the groove of -the thigh, there to mature without moving. The abdomen is next -stripped. Its fine tunic wrinkles, rumples and pushes back towards the -extremity, which alone for some time longer remains clad in the -moulting skin. Except at this point, the whole of the Locust is now -bare. - -It is hanging perpendicularly, head down, supported by the claws of the -now empty leggings. Throughout this long and finikin work, the four -talons have never yielded, thanks to the delicacy and care with which -the extraction has been conducted. - -The insect, fixed by the stern to its cast skin, does not move. Its -abdomen is immensely swollen, apparently distended by the reserve of -organizable humours which the expansion of the wings and wing-cases -will soon set in motion. The Locust is resting; he is recovering from -his exertions. Twenty minutes are spent in waiting. - -Then, by an effort of its back, the hanging insect raises itself and -with its front tarsi grabs hold of the cast skin fastened above it. -Never did acrobat, swinging by his feet from the bar of a trapeze, -display greater strength of loin in lifting himself. When this feat is -accomplished, what remains to be done is nothing. With the support -which he has now gripped, the Locust climbs a little higher and reaches -the wire gauze of the cage. This takes the place of the brushwood which -the free insect would utilize for the transformation. He fixes himself -to it with his four front feet. Then the tip of the abdomen succeeds in -releasing itself, whereupon, loosened with one last shake, the empty -husk drops to the ground. - -The fact of its falling interests me, for I remember the stubborn -persistency with which the Cicada’s cast skin defies the winter winds -without being detached from its supporting twig. The Locust’s -transfiguration is conducted in much the same way as the Cicada’s. Then -how is it that the Acridian gives himself such very shaky hangers? The -hooks hold so long as the work of tearing continues, though one would -think that this ought to bring down everything; they give way under a -trifling shock so soon as that work is done. We have, therefore, a very -unstable condition of equilibrium here, showing once more with what -delicate precision the insect leaves its sheath. - -I said “tearing,” for want of a better word. But it is not quite that. -The term implies violence; and violence there cannot be any, because of -the unsteady balance. Should the Locust, upset by his exertions, come -to the ground, it would be all up with him. He would shrivel where he -lies; or, at any rate, his organs of flight, being unable to expand, -would remain pitiful shreds. The Locust does not tear himself loose; he -flows softly from his scabbard. It is as though he were forced out by a -gentle spring. - -To return to the wings and wing-cases, which have made no apparent -progress since leaving the sheaths. They are still stumps, with fine -longitudinal seams, not much more than bits of rope. Their expansion, -which will take more than three hours, is reserved for the end, when -the insect is completely stripped and in its normal position. - -We have seen the Locust turn head uppermost. This upright position is -enough to restore the natural arrangement of the wing-cases and wings. -Being extremely flexible and bent by their own weight, they were -hanging down with their loose end pointing towards the head of the -inverted insect. Now, still by virtue of their own weight, they are -straightened and put the right way up. They are no longer curved like -the petals of a flower, they are no longer in an inverted position; but -they still look miserably insignificant. - -In its perfect state, the wing is fan-shaped. A radiating cluster of -strong nervures runs through it lengthwise and forms the framework of -the fan, which is readily furled or unfurled. The intervening spaces -are crossed by innumerable tiny bars which make of the whole a network -of rectangular meshes. The wing-case, which is coarser and much less -expanded, repeats this structure in squares. - -In neither case does any of the mesh show during the rope’s-end stage. -All that we see is a few wrinkles, a few winding furrows, which tell us -that the stumps are bundles of cunningly folded material reduced to -their smallest volume. - -The expansion begins near the shoulder. Where at first nothing definite -was to be distinguished, we soon see a diaphanous area subdivided into -meshes of exquisite precision. Little by little, with a slowness that -defies observation even through the magnifying-glass, this area -increases in extent at the expense of the shapeless terminal roll. My -eyes linger in vain on the confines of the two portions, the roll -developing and the gauze already developed: I see nothing, see no more -than I should see in a sheet of water. But wait a moment; and the -tissue of squares stands out with perfect clearness. - -If we judged only by this first examination, we should really think -that an organizable fluid is abruptly congealing into a network of -nervures; we should imagine that we were in the presence of a -crystallization similar, in its suddenness, to that of a saline -solution on the slide of a microscope. Well, no: things cannot be -actually happening like that. Life does not perform its tasks so -hastily. - -I detach a half-developed wing and turn the powerful eye of the -microscope upon it. This time I am satisfied. On the confines where the -network seemed to be gradually woven, that network was really in -existence. I can plainly see the longitudinal nervures, already thick -and strong; and I can also see, pale, it is true, and without relief, -the cross-bars. I find them all in the terminal roll, of which I -succeed in unfolding a few strips. - -It is obvious. The wing is not at this moment a fabric on the loom, -through which the procreative energies are driving their shuttle; it is -a fabric already completed. All that it lacks to be perfect is -expansion and stiffness, even as our linen needs only starching and -ironing. - -The flattening out is finished in three hours or more. The wings and -wing-cases stand up on the Locust’s back like a huge set of sails, -sometimes colourless, sometimes pale-green, as are the Cicada’s wings -at the beginning. We are amazed at their size when we think of the -paltry bundles that represented them at first. How did so much stuff -manage to find room there! - -The fairy-tales tell us of a grain of hemp-seed that contained the -underlinen of a princess. Here is a grain that is even more -astonishing. The one in the story took years and years to sprout and -multiply and at last to yield the quantity of hemp required for the -trousseau; the Locust’s supplies a sumptuous set of sails in a short -space of time. - -Slowly the proud crest, standing erect in four straight blades, -acquires consistency and colour. The latter turns the requisite shade -on the following day. For the first time the wings fold like a fan and -lie in their places; the wing-cases lower their outer edge and form a -gutter which falls over the sides. The transformation is finished. All -that remains for the big Locust to do is to harden his tissues still -further and to darken the grey of his costume while revelling in the -sun. Let us leave him to enjoy himself and retrace our steps a little. - -The four stumps, which issued from their sheaths shortly after the -corselet split its keel down the middle, contain, as we have seen, the -wings and wing-cases, with their network of nervures. This network, if -not perfect, has at least the general plan of its numberless details -mapped out. To unfurl these poor bundles and convert them into generous -sails, it is enough that the organism, acting in this case like a -forcing-pump, should shoot a stream of humours, which have been kept in -reserve for this moment, the hardest of all, into the little channels -already prepared for their reception. With the channel marked out in -advance, a slight injection is sufficient to explain the rapid spread. - -But what were the four strips of gauze while still contained in their -sheaths? Are the wings spatules and the three-cornered pinions of the -larva moulds whose creases, corners and sinuosities shape their -contents in their own image and weave the tissues of the future wing -and wing-case? If we had to do with a real instance of moulding, our -brains could call a halt. We should say to ourselves that it was quite -simple for the thing moulded to correspond with the shape of the mould. -But our halt would be short-lived, for the mould in its turn would want -explaining: we should have to seek for a solution of its infinite -intricacies. Let us not go so far back; we should be utterly in the -dark. Let us rather keep to facts that can be observed. - -I examine through the magnifying-glass a pinion of a larva ripe for -transformation. I see a bundle of fairly thick nervures radiating -fanwise. Other nervures, paler and finer, are set in the intermediate -spaces. Lastly, the fabric is completed by a number of very short -transversal lines, more delicate still and chevron-shaped. - -This, no doubt, gives a rough outline of the future wing-case; but how -different from the mature structure! The arrangement of the radiating -nervures, the skeleton of the edifice, is not at all the same; the -network formed by the transversal veins in no way suggests the -complicated pattern which we shall see later. The rudimentary is about -to be succeeded by the infinitely complex, the crude by the exquisitely -perfect. The same remark applies to the wing-spatule and its outcome, -the final wing. - -It is quite evident, when we have the preparatory and the ultimate -stage before our eyes at the same time: the larva’s pinion is not -merely a mould which elaborates the material in its own image and -shapes the wing-case upon the model of its hollow. No, the membrane -which we are expecting is not yet inside in the form of a bundle which, -when unfurled, will astonish us with the size and the extreme -complexity of its texture. Or, to be accurate, it is there, but in a -potential state. Before becoming a real thing, it is a virtual thing, -which is nothing as yet, but which is capable of becoming something. It -is there just as much as the oak is inside its acorn. - -A fine, transparent rim binds the free edge both of the embryo wing and -the embryo wing-case. Under a powerful lens we can see a few uncertain -outlines of the future lacework. This might well be the factory in -which life intends to set its materials going. There is nothing else -visible, nothing to suggest the prodigious network whose every mesh -will shortly have its form and place determined for it with geometrical -precision. - -There must therefore be something better and greater than a mould to -make the organizable matter shape itself into a sheet of gauze and -describe the inextricable labyrinth of the nervation. There is a -primary plan, an ideal pattern which assigns to each atom its precise -place. Before the matter begins to move, the configuration is already -virtually traced, the courses of the plastic currents are already -marked out. The stones of our buildings are arranged in accordance with -the architect’s considered plan; they form an ideal assemblage before -existing as a real assemblage. Similarly, a Locust’s wing, that -sumptuous piece of lace emerging from a miserable sheath, speaks to us -of another Architect, the Author of the plans which life must follow in -its labours. - -The genesis of living creatures offers to our contemplation, in an -infinity of ways, marvels far greater than those of the Acridian; but -generally they pass unperceived, overshadowed as they are by the veil -of time. The lapse of years, with its slow mysteries, robs us of the -most astonishing spectacles, unless our minds be endowed with a -stubborn patience. Here, by exception, things take place with a -swiftness that arrests even a wavering attention. - -He who would, without wearisome delays, catch a glimpse of the -inconceivable dexterity with which life does its work has but to go to -the great Locust of the vines. The insect will show him that which, -with their extreme slowness, the sprouting seed, the budding leaf and -the blossoming flower hide from our curiosity. We cannot see a blade of -grass grow; but we can easily witness the growth of a Locust’s wings -and wing-cases. - -We stand astounded at this sublime phantasmagoria of a grain of -hemp-seed which in a few hours becomes a superb piece of linen. What a -proud artist is life, driving its shuttle to weave the wings of a -Locust, one of those insignificant insects of which Pliny, long ago -said: - - - “In his tam parvis, fere nullis, quæ vis, quæ sapientia, quam - inextricabilis perfectis!” - - -How well the old naturalist was inspired on this occasion! Let us -repeat after him: - -“What power, what wisdom, what indescribable perfection in the tiny -corner of life which the Locust of the vines has shown us!” - -I have heard that a learned enquirer, to whom life was but a conflict -of physical and chemical forces, did not despair of one day obtaining -artificial organizable matter: protoplasm, as the official jargon has -it. Were it in my power, I should hasten to satisfy this ambitious -person. - -Very well, be it so: you have thoroughly prepared your protoplasm. By -dint of long hours of meditation, deep study, scrupulous care and -inexhaustible patience, your wishes have been fulfilled; you have -extracted from your apparatus an albuminous glair, which goes bad -easily and stinks like the very devil in a few days’ time: in short, -filth. What do you propose to do with your product? - -Will you organize it? Will you give it the structure of a living -edifice? Will you take a hypodermic syringe and inject it between two -impalpable films to obtain were it only the wing of a Gnat? - -For that is more or less what the Locust does. He injects his -protoplasm between the two scales of the pinion; and the material -becomes a wing-case, because it finds as a guide the ideal archetype of -which I spoke just now. It is controlled in its intricate windings by a -plan which existed before the injection, before the material itself. - -Have you this archetype, this coordinator of forms, this primordial -regulator, at the end of your syringe? No? Then throw away your -product! No life will ever spring from that chemical ordure. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE FOAMY CICADELLA - - -In April, when the Swallow and the Cuckoo visit us, let us consider the -fields for a while, keeping our eyes on the ground, as befits the eager -observer of insect-life. We shall not fail to see, here and there, on -the grass, little masses of white foam. It might easily be taken for a -spray of frothy spittle from the lips of a passer-by; but there is so -much of it that we soon abandon this first idea. Never would human -saliva suffice for so lavish an expenditure of foam, even if some one -with nothing better to do were to devote all his disgusting and -misdirected zeal to the effort. - -While recognizing that man is blameless in the matter, the northern -peasant has not relinquished the name suggested by the appearance: he -calls those strange flakes “Cuckoo-spit,” after the bird whose note is -then proclaiming the awakening of spring. The vagrant creature, unequal -to the toils and delights of housekeeping, ejects it at random, so they -say, as it pays its flying visits to the homes of others, in search of -a resting-place for its egg. - -The interpretation does credit to the Cuckoo’s salivary powers, but not -to the interpreter’s intelligence. The other popular denomination is -worse still: “Frog-spit!” My dear good people, what on earth has the -Frog or his slaver to do with it? [85] - -The shrewder Provençal peasant also knows that vernal foam; but he is -too cautious to give it any wild names. My rustic neighbours, when I -ask them about Cuckoo-spit and Frog-spit, begin to smile and see -nothing in those words but a poor joke. To my questions on the nature -of the thing they reply: - -“I don’t know.” - -Exactly! That’s the sort of answer I like, an answer not complicated -with grotesque explanations. - -Would you know the real perpetrator of this spittle? Rummage about the -frothy mass with a straw. You will extract a little yellow, -pot-bellied, dumpy creature, shaped like a Cicada without wings. That’s -the foam-producer. - -When laid naked on another leaf, she brandishes the pointed tip of her -little round paunch. This at once betrays the curious machine which we -shall see at work presently. When older and still operating under the -cover of its foam, the little thing becomes a nymph, turns green in -colour and gives itself stumps of wings fixed scarfwise on its sides. -From underneath its blunted head there projects, when it is working, a -little gimlet, a beak similar to that of the Cicadæ. - -In its adult form the insect is, in fact, a sort of very small-sized -Cicada, for which reason the entomologist capable of shaking off the -trammels of nonsensical nomenclature calls it simply the Foamy -Cicadella. For this euphonic name, the diminutive of Cicada, the others -have substituted that horrible word Aphrophora. Orthodox science says, -Aphrophora spumaria, meaning Foamy Foambearer. The ear is none the -better for this improvement. Let us content ourselves with Cicadella, -which respects the tympanum and does not reduplicate the foam. - -I have consulted my few books as to the habits of the Cicadella. They -tell me that she punctures plants and makes the sap exude in foamy -flakes. Under this cover, the insect lives sheltered from the heat. A -work recently compiled has one curious piece of information: it tells -me that I must get up early in the morning, inspect my crops, pick any -twig with foam on it and at once plunge it into a cauldron of boiling -water. - -Oh, my poor Cicadella, this is a bad look-out! The author does not do -things by halves. I see him rising before the dawn, lighting a stove on -wheels and pushing his infernal contrivance through the midst of his -lucern, his clover and his peas, to boil you on the spot. He will have -his work cut out for him. I remember a certain patch of sainfoin of -which almost every stalk had its foam-flakes. Had the stewing-process -been necessary, one might just as well have reaped the field and turned -the whole crop into herb-tea. - -Why these violent measures? Are you so very dangerous to the harvest, -my pretty little Cicada? They accuse you of draining the plant which -you attack. Upon my word, they are right: you drain it almost as dry as -the Flea does the Dog. But to touch another’s grass—you know it: -doesn’t the fable say so?—is a heinous crime, an offence which can be -punished by nothing less drastic than boiling water. - -Let us waste no more time on these agricultural entomologists with -their murderous designs. To hear them talk, one would think that the -insect has no right to live. Incapable of behaving like a ferocious -landowner who becomes filled with thoughts of massacre at the sight of -a maggoty plum, I, more kindly, abandon my few rows of peas and beans -to the Cicadella: she will leave me my share, I am convinced. - -Besides, the insignificant ones of the earth are not the least rich in -talent, in an originality of invention which will teach us much -concerning the infinite variety of instinct. The Cicadella, in -particular, possesses her recipes for aerated waters. Let us ask her by -what process she succeeds in giving such a fine head of froth to her -product, for the books that talk about boiling cauldrons and -Cuckoo-spit are silent on this subject, the only one worthy of -narration. - -The foamy mass has no very definite shape and is hardly larger than a -hazel-nut. It is remarkably persistent even when the insect is not -working at it any longer. Deprived of its manufacturer, who would not -fail to keep it going, and placed on a watch-glass, it lasts for more -than twenty-four hours without evaporating or losing its bubbles. This -persistency is striking, compared with the rapidity with which -soapsuds, for instance, disappear. - -Prolonged duration of the foam is necessary to the Cicadella, who would -exhaust herself in the constant renewal of her products if her work -were ordinary froth. Once the effervescent covering is obtained, it is -essential that the insect should rest for a time, with no other task -than to drink its fill and grow. And so the moisture converted into -froth possesses a certain stickiness, conducive to longevity. It is -slightly oily and trickles under one’s finger like a weak solution of -gum. - -The bubbles are small and even, being all of the same dimensions. You -can see that they have been scrupulously gauged, one by one; you -suspect the presence of a graduated tube. Like our chemists and -druggists, the insect must have its drop-measures. - -A single Cicadella is usually crouching invisible in the depths of the -foam; sometimes there are two or three or more. In such cases, it is a -fortuitous association, the fabrics of the several workers being so -close together that they merge into one common edifice. - -Let us see the work begin and, with the aid of a magnifying-glass, -follow the creature’s proceedings. With her sucker inserted up to the -hilt and her six short legs firmly fixed, the Cicadella remains -motionless, flat on her stomach on the long-suffering leaf. You expect -to see froth issuing from the edge of the well, effervescing under the -action of the insect’s implement, whose lancets, ascending and -descending in turns and rubbing against each other like those of the -Cicada, ought to make the sap foam as it is forced out. The froth, so -it would seem, must come ready-made from the puncture. That is what the -current descriptions of the Cicadella tell us; that was how I myself -pictured it on the authority of the writers. All this is a huge -mistake: the real thing is much more ingenious. It is a very clear -liquid that comes up from the well, with no more trace of foam than in -a dew-drop. Even so the Cicada, who possesses similar tools, makes the -spot at which she slakes her thirst give forth a limpid fluid, with not -a vestige of froth to it. Therefore, notwithstanding its dexterity in -sucking up liquids, the Cicadella’s mouth-apparatus has nothing to do -with the manufacture of the foamy mattress. It supplies the raw -material; another implement works it up. What implement? Have patience -and we shall see. - -The clear liquid rises imperceptibly and glides under the insect, which -at last is half inundated. The work begins again without delay. To make -white of egg into a froth we have two methods: we can whip it, thus -dividing the sticky fluid into thin flakes and causing it to take in -air in a network of cells; or we can blow into it and so inject -air-bubbles right into the mass. Of these two methods, the Cicadella -employs the second, which is less violent and more elegant. She blows -her froth. - -But how is the blowing done? The insect seems incapable of it, being -devoid of any air-mechanism similar to that of the lungs. To breathe -with tracheæ and to blow like a bellows are incompatible actions. - -Agreed; but be sure that, if the insect needs a blast of air for its -manufactures, the blowing-machine will be there, most ingeniously -contrived. This machine the Cicadella possesses at the tip of her -abdomen, at the end of the intestine. Here, split lengthwise in the -shape of a Y, a little pocket opens and shuts in turns, a pocket whose -two lips close hermetically when joined. - -Having said this, let us watch the performance. The insect lifts the -tip of its abdomen out of the bath in which it is swimming. The pocket -opens, sucks in the air of the atmosphere till it is full, then closes -and dives down, the richer by its prize. Inside the liquid, the -apparatus contracts. The captive air escapes as from a nozzle and -produces a first bubble of froth. Forthwith the air-pocket returns to -the upper air, opens, takes in a fresh load and goes down again closed, -to immerse itself once more and blow in its gas. A new bubble is -produced. - -And so it goes on with chronometrical regularity, from second to -second, the blowing-machine swinging upwards to open its valve and fill -itself with air, downwards to dive into the liquid and send out its -gaseous contents. Such is the air-measurer, the drop-glass which -accounts for the evenness of the frothy bubbles. - -Ulysses, the favourite of the gods, received from the storm-dispenser, -Æolus, bags in which the winds were confined. The carelessness of his -crew, who untied the bags to find out what they contained, let loose a -tempest which destroyed the fleet. I have seen those mythological -wind-filled bags; I saw them years ago, when I was a child. - -A peripatetic tinker, a son of Calabria, had set up between two stones -the crucible in which a tin soup-tureen and plates were to be remelted. -Æolus did the blowing, Æolus in the person of a little dark-skinned boy -who, squatting on his heels, forced air towards the forge by -alternately squeezing two goatskin bags, one on the right and one on -the left. Thus must the prehistoric bronze-smelters have performed -their task, they whose workshops and whose remains of copper-slag I -find on the hills near my home: the blast of their furnaces was -produced by these inflated skins. - -The machine employed by my Æolus is pathetically simple. The hide of a -goat, with the hair left on, is practically all that is necessary. It -is a bag fastened at the bottom over a nozzle, open at the top and -supplied, by way of lips, with two little boards which, when brought -together, close up the whole apparatus. These two stiff lips are each -furnished with a leather handle, one for the thumb, the other for the -four remaining fingers. The hand opens; the lips of the bag part and it -fills with air. The hand closes and brings the boards together; the air -imprisoned in the compressed bag escapes by the nozzle. The alternate -working of the two bags gives a continuous blast. - -Apart from continuity, which is not a favourable condition when the gas -has to be discharged in small bubbles, the Cicadella’s bellows works -like the Calabrian tinker’s. It is a flexible pocket with stiff lips, -which alternately part and unite, opening to let the air enter and -closing to keep it imprisoned. The contraction of the sides takes the -place of the shrinking of the bag and puffs out the gaseous contents -when the pocket is immersed. - -He certainly had a lucky inspiration who first thought of confining the -wind in a bag, as mythology tells us that Æolus did. The goatskin -turned into a bellows gave us our metals, the essential matter whereof -our tools are made. Well, in this art of expelling air, an enormous -source of progress, the Cicadella was the pioneer. She was blowing her -froth before Tubalcain thought of urging the fire of his forge with a -leather pouch. She was the first to invent bellows. - -When, bubble by bubble, the foamy wrapper covers the insect to a height -which the uplifted tip of her belly is unable to reach, it is no longer -possible to take in air and the effervescence stops. Nevertheless, the -gimlet that extracts the sap goes on working, for nourishment must be -obtained. As a rule then, in the sloping part, the superfluous liquid, -that which is not converted into foam, collects and forms a drop of -perfectly clear liquid. - -What does this limpid fluid lack in order to turn white and effervesce? -Nothing but air blown into it, one would think. I am able to substitute -my own devices for the Cicadella’s syringe. I place between my lips a -very slender glass tube and with delicate puffs send my breath into the -drop of moisture. To my great surprise, it does not froth up. The -result is just the same as that which I should have with plain water -from the tap. - -Instead of a plentiful, lasting, slow-subsiding foam, like that with -which the insect covers itself, all that I obtain is a miserable ring -of bubbles, which burst as soon as they appear. And I am equally -unsuccessful with the liquid which the Cicadella collects under her -abdomen at the start, before working her bellows. What is wrong in each -case? The foamy product and its generating liquid shall tell us. - -The first is oily to the touch, gummy and as fluid as, for instance, a -weak solution of albumen would be; the second flows as readily as plain -water. The Cicadella therefore does not draw from her well a liquid -liable to effervesce merely by the action of the blow-pocket; she adds -something to what oozes from the puncture, adds a viscous element which -gives cohesion and makes frothing possible, even as a boy adds soap to -the water which he blows into iridescent bubbles through a straw. - -Where then does the insect keep its soap-works, its manufactory of the -effervescent element? Evidently in the blow-pocket itself. It is here -that the intestine ends and here that albuminous products, furnished -either by the digestive canal or by special glands, can be expelled in -infinitesimal doses. Each whiff sent out is thus accompanied by a -trifle of adhesive matter, which dissolves in the water, making it -sticky and enabling it to retain the captive air in permanent bubbles. -The Cicadella covers herself with an icing of which her intestine is to -some extent the manufacturer. - -This method brings us back to the industry of the lily-dweller, the -grub which makes itself a loathsome armour out of its excretions; [86] -but what a distance between the heap of ordure which it wears on its -back and the Cicadella’s aerated mattress! - -Another fact, more difficult to explain, attracts our attention. A -multitude of low-growing, herbaceous plants, whose sap starts flowing -in April, suit the frothy insect, without distinction of species, genus -or family. I could almost make a list of the non-ligneous vegetation of -my neighbourhood by cataloguing the plants on which the little -creature’s foam is to be found in greater or lesser abundance. A few -experiments will tell us how indifferent the Cicadella is to both the -nature and the properties of the plant which she adopts as her home. - -I pick the insect out of its froth with the tip of a hair-pencil and -place it on some other plant, of an opposite flavour, letting the -strong come after the mild, the spicy after the insipid, the bitter -after the sweet. The new encampment is accepted without hesitation and -soon covered with foam. For instance, a Cicadella taken from the bean, -which has a neutral flavour, thrives excellently on the spurges, full -of pungent milky sap, and particularly on Euphorbia serrata, the narrow -notch-leaved spurge, which is one of her favourite dwelling-places. And -she is equally satisfied when moved from the highly-spiced spurge to -the comparatively flavourless bean. - -This indifference is surprising when we reflect how scrupulously -faithful other insects are to their plants. There are undoubtedly -stomachs expressly made to drink corrosive and assimilate toxic -matters. The caterpillar of Acherontia atropos, the Death’s-head -Hawk-moth, eats its fill of potato-leaves, which are seasoned with -solanin; the caterpillar of the Spurge-moth browses in these parts on -the upright red spurge (Euphorbia characias), whose milk produces much -the same effect as red-hot iron on the tongue; but neither one nor the -other would pass from these narcotics or these caustics to utterly -insipid fare. - -How does the Cicadella manage to feed on anything and everything, for -she evidently obtains nourishment while putting a head on her liquid? I -see her thrive, either of her own accord or by my devices, on the -common buttercup (Ranunculus acris), which has a flavour unequalled -save by Cayenne pepper; on the Italian arum (Arum italicum), the -veriest particle of whose leaves is enough to burn the lips; on the -traveller’s joy, or virgin’s bower (Clematis vitalba), the famous -beggars’ herb, which reddens the skin and produces the sores in request -among our sham cripples. After these highly-seasoned condiments, she -will promptly accept the mild sainfoin, the scented savory, the bitter -dandelion, the sweet field eringo, in short, anything that I put before -her, whether full-flavoured or tasteless. - -As a matter of fact, this strange catholicity of diet might well be -only apparent. When the Cicadella punctures this or that herb, of -whatever species, all that she does is to extract an almost neutral -liquid, just as the roots draw it from the soil; she does not admit to -her fountain the fluids worked up into essential principles. The liquid -that trickles forth under the insect’s gimlet and forms a bead at the -bottom of the foamy mass is perfectly clear. - -I have gathered this drop on the spurge, the arum, the clematis and the -buttercup. I expected to find a fire-water, pungent as the sap of those -different plants. Well, it is nothing of the kind; it lacks all savour; -it is water or little more. And this insipid stuff has issued from a -reservoir of vitriol. - -If I prick the spurge with a fine needle, that which rises from the -puncture is a white, milky drop, tasting horribly bitter. When the -Cicadella pushes in her drill, a clear, flavourless fluid oozes out. -The two operations seem to be directed towards different sources. - -How does she manage to draw a liquid that is clear and harmless from -the same barrel whence my needle brings up something milky and burning? -Can the Cicadella, with her instrument, that incomparable alembic, -divide the fierce fluid into two, admitting the neutral and rejecting -the peppery? Can she be drawing on certain vessels whose sap, not yet -elaborated, has not acquired its final virulence? The delicate -vegetable anatomy is helpless in the presence of the tiny creature’s -pump. I give up the problem. - -When the Cicadella is exploring the spurge, as frequently happens, she -has a serious reason for not admitting to her fountain all that would -be yielded by simple bleeding, such as my needle would produce. The -milky juice of the plant would be fatal to her. - -I gather a drop or two of the liquid that trickles from a cut stalk and -instal a Cicadella in it. The insect is not comfortable: I can see this -by its efforts to escape. My hair-pencil pushes the fugitive back into -the pool of milk, rich in dissolved rubber. Soon this rubber settles -into clots similar to crumbs of cheese; the insect’s legs become clad -in gaiters that seem made of casein; a coating of gum obstructs the -breathing-valves; possibly also the extremely delicate skin is hurt by -the blistering qualities of the milky sap. If kept for some time in -that environment, the Cicadella dies. - -Even so would she die if her gimlet, working simply as a needle, -brought the milk of the spurge to the surface. A sifting takes place -then, which allows almost pure water to issue from the source that -gives the wherewithal for making the froth. A subtle -exhaustion-process, whose mechanism is hidden from our curiosity, a -piston-play of unrivalled delicacy, effects this marvellous work of -purification. - -Water is always water, whether it come from the stagnant pool or the -clear stream, from a poisonous liquid or a healing infusion; and it -possesses the same properties, when it is rid of its impurities by -distillation. In like manner, the sap, whether furnished by the spurge -or the bean, the clematis or the sainfoin, the buttercup or the borage, -is of the same watery nature when the Cicadella’s syphon, by a -reducing-process which would be the envy of our stills, has deprived it -of its peculiar properties, which vary so greatly in different plants. - -This would explain how the insect makes its froth rise on the first -plant that it comes across. Everything suits it, because its apparatus -reduces any sap to the condition of plain water. The inimitable -well-sinker is able to produce the limpid from the cloudy and the -harmless from the toxic. - -It may possibly happen that the insect’s well supplies water that is -not quite pure. If left to evaporate in a watch-glass, the clear drop -that trickles from the mass of foam yields a thin white residue, which -dissolves by effervescence in nitric acid. This residue might well be -carbonate of potash. I also suspect the presence of traces of albumen. - -Obviously, the Cicadella finds something to feed on at the bottom of -the puncture. Now what does she consume? To all appearances, something -with an albuminous basis, for the pigmy herself is, for the most part, -but a grain of similar matter. This element is plentiful in all plants; -and it is probable that the insect uses it lavishly to make up for the -expenditure of gum needed for the formation of froth. Some albuminous -product, perfected in the digestive canal and discharged by the -intestine as and when the blow-pocket expels its bubble of air, might -well give the liquid the power of swelling into a foam that lasts for a -long time. - -If we ask ourselves what advantage the Cicadella derives from her mass -of froth, a very excellent answer is at once suggested: the insect -keeps itself cool under that shelter, hides itself from the eyes of its -persecutors and is protected against the rays of the sun and the -attacks of parasites. - -The Lily-beetle makes a similar use of the mantle of her own dirt; but -she, most unhappily for herself, flings off her nasty cloak and -descends naked from the plant to the ground, where she has to bury -herself to slaver her cocoon. At this critical moment, the Flies lie in -wait for her and entrust her with their eggs, the germs of parasites -which will eat into her body. - -The Cicadella is better-advised and altogether escapes the dangers -attendant on a removal. Subject to certain summary changes which never -interrupt her activity, she assumes the adult form in the very heart of -her bastion, under the shelter of a viscous rampart capable of -repelling any assailant. Here she enjoys perfect security when the -difficult hour has come for tearing off her old skin and putting on -another, brand-new and more decorative; here she finds profound peace -for her excoriation and for the display of the attire of a riper age. - -The insect does not leave its cool covering until it is grown up, when -it appears in the form of a pretty little, brown-striped Cicadella. It -is then able to take enormous and sudden leaps, which carry it far from -the aggressor; and it leads an easy life, untroubled by the foe. - -Looked upon as a system of defence, the frothy stronghold is indeed a -magnificent invention, much superior to the squalid work of the invader -of the lily. And, strange to say, the system has no imitators among the -genera most nearly allied to the froth-blower. - -In her larval form, the Asparagus-beetle is victimized by the Fly -because she does not follow the example of her cousin, the Lily-beetle, -and clothe herself in her own droppings. Even so, on the grass, on the -trees displaying their tender leaves, other Cicadellæ abound, no less -exposed to danger from the Warbler seeking a succulent morsel for his -little ones; and, as they draw out the sap through the punctures made -by their suckers, not one of them thinks of making it effervesce. Yet -they too possess the elevator-pump, which they all work in the same -manner; only they do not know how to turn the end of their intestine -into a bellows. Why not? Because instincts are not to be acquired. They -are primordial aptitudes, bestowed here and denied there; time cannot -awaken them by a slow incubation, nor are they decreed by any -similarity of organization. - - - - - - - - -NOTES - - -[1] You used to sing! I’m glad to know it. - Well, try dancing for a change! - -[2] Jean de La Fontaine (1621–1695), the author of the world-famous -Fables.—Translator’s Note. - -[3] Jean Ignace Isidore Gérard (1803–1847), better known by his -pseudonym of Grandville, a famous French caricaturist and illustrator -of La Fontaine’s Fables, Béranger’s Chansons and the standard French -editions of Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver’s Travels.—Translator’s Note. - -[4] Sir Roger L’Estrange attributes the fable to Anianus and, as is -usual in the English version, substitutes the Grasshopper for the -Cicada. It may be interesting to quote his translation: - -“As the Ants were airing their provisions one winter, up comes a hungry -Grasshopper to ’em and begs a charity. They told him that he should -have wrought in summer, if he would not have wanted in winter. ‘Well,’ -says the Grasshopper, ‘but I was not idle neither; for I sung out the -whole season.’ ‘Nay then,’ said they, ‘you shall e’en do well to make a -merry year on’t and dance in winter to the tune that you sung in -summer.’”—Translator’s Note. - -[5] Cf. The Hunting Wasps, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander -Teixeira de Mattos: chaps. iv. to x.—Translator’s Note. - -[6] For the Pompilus-wasp, or Ringed Calicurgus, cf. The Life and Love -of the Insect, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de -Mattos: chap. xii.—Translator’s Note. - -[7] For the grub of the Rose-chafer, or Cetonia, cf. The Life and Love -of the Insect: chap. xi.—Translator’s Note. - -[8] Pierre Jean de Béranger (1780–1857), the popular French lyric -poet.—Translator’s Note. - -[9] René Antoine Ferchault de Réaumur (1683–1757), inventor of the -Réaumur thermometer and author of Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire -naturelle des insectes.—Translator’s Note. - -[10] Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect: chap. ix.—Translator’s Note. - -[11] The Capricorn, or Cerambyx-beetle, lives in oak-trees; the -Buprestis-beetles are found mostly in felled timber.—Translator’s Note. - -[12] Joseph Jacotot (1770–1840), a famous French educator, whose -methods aroused a great deal of discussion. He propounded other more or -less paradoxical maxims, such as, “All men have an equal intelligence,” -“A man can teach what he does not know,” and so on.—Translator’s Note. - -[13] Pietro Andrea Mattioli (1500–1577), known as Matthiolus, a -physician and naturalist who practised at Siena and Rome. His -Commentaries on Dioscorides were published in Italian, at Venice, in -1544 and in Latin in 1554.—Translator’s Note. - -[14] Guillaume Rondelet (1507–1566), a physician and naturalist, author -of various works on medicine and of an Universa piscium historia -(Lyons, 1554) which earned him the title of father of ichthyology. -Rabelais introduces him into his Pantagruel by the name of -Rondibilis.—Translator’s Note. - -[15] “Cicadæ eaten roasted are good for pains in the bladder.” - -[16] Guillaume Antoine Olivier (1756–1814), a distinguished French -entomologist, author of an Histoire naturelle des coléoptères, in six -volumes (1789–1808), and part author of the nine volumes devoted to a -Dictionnaire de l’histoire naturelle des insectes in the Encyclopédie -méthodique (1789–1819).—Translator’s Note. - -[17] I have gathered the Cicada’s eggs on Spartium junceum, or Spanish -broom; on asphodel (Asphodelus cerasiferus); on Toad-flax (Linaria -striata); on Calamintha nepeta, or lesser calamint; on Hirschfeldia -adpressa; on Chondrilla juncea, or common gum-succory; on garlic -(Allium polyanthum); on Asteriscus spinosus and other plants.—Author’s -Note. - -[18] Calamintha nepeta, Hirschfeldia adpressa.—Author’s Note. - -[19] 10.9 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[20] 11.7 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[21] 4.6 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[22] .31 to .39 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[23] .156 to .195 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[24] Cf. The Mason-bees, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander -Teixeira de Mattos: chap. xi.—Translator’s Note. - -[25] About 1⁄10 × 1⁄50 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[26] Cf. The Life of the Fly, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps, ii, iii and v.—Translator’s Note. - -[27] Cf. The Life of the Fly: chap. iv.—Translator’s Note. - -[28] Cf. Bramble-bees and Others, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[29] The Decticus, Tryxalis and Ephippiger are all species of -Grasshoppers or Locusts.—Translator’s Note. - -[30] Epeira sericea and E. diadema are two Garden Spiders for whom cf. -The Life of the Spider, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander -Teixeira de Mattos: chaps. ix to xiv.—Translator’s Note. - -[31] Cf. The Life of the Spider: chap. viii.—Translator’s Note. - -[32] Cf. The Hunting Wasps: passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[33] 1.56 in. × .78 in.—Translator’s Note. - -[34] Benjamin Thompson (1753–1814), an American loyalist, created Count -Rumford in Bavaria, where he became minister for war. He discovered the -convertibility of mechanical energy into heat.—Translator’s Note. - -[35] Thomas Moffett, Moufet, or Muffet (1553–1604), author of a -posthumous Insectorum sive Minimorum Animalium Teatrum, published in -Latin in 1634 and in an English translation, by Edward Topsell, in -1658. Although giving credence to too many fabulous reports, Moffett -was acknowledged the prince of entomologists prior to the advent of Jan -Swammerdam (1637–1680).—Translator’s Note. - -[36] Jacques Callot (1592–1635), the French engraver and painter, famed -for the grotesque nature of his subjects.—Translator’s Note. - -[37] Cf. The Hunting Wasps: chap. xiii.—Translator’s Note. - -[38] Cotton-bees. Cf. Bramble-bees and Others: chap. ix.—Translator’s -Note. - -[39] A genus of Mason-wasps, the essay on whom has not yet been -translated into English.—Translator’s Note. - -[40] A species of Burrowing Bees.—Translator’s Note. - -[41] Œdipoda cærulescens, Lin.; Œ. miniata, Pallas; Sphingonotus -cærulans, Lin.; Caloptenus italicus, Lin.; Pachytylus nigrofasciatus, -de Geer; Truxalis nasuta, Lin.—Author’s Note. - -[42] Conocephalus mandibularis, Charp.; Platycleis intermedia, Serv.; -Ephippigea vitium, Serv.—Author’s Note. - -[43] Cf. The Life of the Spider and The Hunting Wasps: -passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[44] An orthopterous family which includes the Grasshoppers, but not -the Locusts. The latter are Acridians.—Translator’s Note. - -[45] The class of molluscs containing the Squids, Cuttlefish, Octopus, -etc.—Translator’s Note. - -[46] A genus of Myriapods including the typical -Centipedes.—Translator’s Note. - -[47] Cf. Chapter XIV. of the present volume.—Translator’s Note. - -[48] The highest mountain (6,270 feet) in the neighbourhood of -Sérignan. Cf. The Hunting Wasps: chap. xi.—Translator’s Note. - -[49] M. Bellot, forest-ranger of Beaumont (Vaucluse).—Author’s Note. - -[50] .195 to .234 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[51] .039 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[52] This essay was written prior to that on the Grey Flesh-flies, who -employ a similar method. Cf. The Life of the Fly: chap. x.—Translator’s -Note. - -[53] “Beneath the shade which beechen boughs diffuse, - You, Tityrus, entertain your sylvan muse. - . . . . . . . - These blessings friend, a deity bestowed: - . . . . . . . - He gave my kine to graze the flowery plain - And to my pipe renewed the rural strain.” - - —Pastorals: book i.; Dryden’s translation. - -[54] Georges Louis Leclerc de Buffon (1707–1788), the foremost French -naturalist and one of the foremost French writers, though his style, as -Fabre rightly suggests, was nothing less than pompous. He was the -originator, in the speech delivered at his reception into the French -academy, of the famous aphorism, “Le style est l’homme -même.”—Translator’s Note. - -[55] Cf. Social Life in the Insect World, by J. H. Fabre, translated by -Bernard Miall: chap. xxi.—Translator’s Note. - -[56] A Dung-beetle. Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect: chap. -v.—Translator’s Note. - -[57] Cf. The Life of the Caterpillar, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. xiii.—Translator’s Note. - -[58] The 14th of July, the anniversary of the fall of the -Bastille.—Translator’s Note. - -[59] The order of insects comprising the Grasshoppers, Locusts, -Crickets, Cockroaches, Mantes and Earwigs. The Cicada, with whom the -present volume opens, and the Foamy Cicadella, with whom it closes, -belong to the order of Homoptera.—Translator’s Note. - -[60] The author was obviously thinking of the Englishman’s saddle of -mutton and red-currant jelly. The mistake has been repeated much nearer -to these shores. I have in mind the true story of an Irish king’s -counsel singing the praises of another, still among us, who had married -an English wife and who, in the course of an extensive practice in the -House of Lords, spent much of his time in England: - -“Ah, —— —— is a real gentleman! He speaks with an English accent, -quotes Euripides in the original Latin and takes jam with his meat.” - -I venture to think that Fabre, in the gentleness of his heart, would -have forgiven his translator for quoting this flippant anecdote. I have -no other excuse.—Translator’s Note. - -[61] .117 to .156 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[62] Fuller details on this curious subject would be out of place in a -book in which anatomy and physiology cannot always speak quite freely. -They will be found in my essay on the Locustidæ which appeared in the -Annales des sciences naturelles, 1896.—Author’s Note. - -[63] “Fare thee well, good neighbour Cricket; from thy presence I - must flee; - Mine ears also will be taken for a pair of horns,” said he. - “Horns, i’ faith!” the Cricket answered. “Is thy servant mad - or blind? - Those are ears which thy Creator with His own hand hath - designed!” - “Yet the world will one day call them horns,” his fellow made - reply, - “And ere that day dawn, my neighbour, I will bid this place - good-bye.” - -[64] Jean Pierre Claris de Florian (1755–1794), Voltaire’s -grand-nephew, the leading French fabulist, after La -Fontaine.—Translator’s Note. - -[65] “My snug little home is a place of delight: - If you want to live happy, live hidden from sight!” - -[66] My friend, who is always accurate in his descriptions, is here -speaking, if I be not mistaken, of the Swallow-tail.—Author’s Note. - -[67] For the translation of these and the other verses in this chapter -I am indebted to my friend Mr. Stephen McKenna.—Translator’s Note. - -[68] For the author’s only essay on Ants, cf. The Mason-bees: chap. -vi.—Translator’s Note. - -[69] Or Burying-beetle.—Translator’s Note. - -[70] Cf. The Hunting Wasps: chaps. iv to vii.—Translator’s Note. - -[71] “Then tripping to the woods the wanton hies - And wishes to be seen before she flies.” - - —Virgil, Pastorals: book i.; Dryden’s translation. - -[72] “Safe under covert of the silent night - And guided by the imperial galley’s light.” - - —Virgil, Æneid: book ii.; Dryden’s translation. - -[73] The enclosed piece of waste land, adjoining his house at Sérignan, -in which the author used to study his insects in their natural state. -Cf. The Life of the Fly: chap. i.—Translator’s Note. - -[74] Alphonse Tousserel (1803–1885), author of a number of interesting -and valuable works on ornithology.—Translator’s Note. - -[75] Also known as the Stone-chat, Fallow-chat, Whin-chat, Fallow-finch -and White-tail, which last corresponds with the Cul-blanc of the -Provençal dialect. The French name for this Saxicola is the Motteux, or -Clod-hopper.—Translator’s Note. - -[76] Wormlike Millepedes.—Translator’s Note. - -[77] General Eugène Daumas (1803–1871), the author of several works on -Algeria.—Translator’s Note. - -[78] More correctly the Locust, not to be confused with the true -Grasshopper, who carries a sabre.—Author’s Note. - -[79] The Blessed Virgin Mary.—Author’s Note. - -[80] Omar, the second caliph and the first to assume the title of -Commander of the Faithful, reigned from 634 to his death in 644. The -Alexandrian library was burnt in 640.—Translator’s Note. - -[81] Cf. The Mason-bees: passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[82] 2.34 by .312 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[83] The big Grey Locust is sometimes subject to the same -aberration.—Author’s Note. - -[84] .312 to .351 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[85] Kirby and other English naturalists refer to Aphrophora spumaria -as the Frothy Froghopper; but this is rather because the insect’s -outline and hopping-powers suggest those of a Frog.—Translator’s Note. - -[86] The larva of the Lily-beetle (Crioceris merdigera), the essay on -which insect has not yet been translated into English.—Translator’s -Note. - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE GRASSHOPPER *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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-} -.tablecaption { -text-align: center; -} -.arab { font-family: Scheherazade, serif; } -.aran { font-family: 'Awami Nastaliq', serif; } -.grek { font-family: 'Charis SIL', serif; } -.hebr { font-family: Shlomo, 'Ezra SIL', serif; } -.syrc { font-family: 'Serto Jerusalem', serif; } -/* CSS rules generated from rendition elements in TEI file */ -.orange { -color: #ff3308; -} -/* CSS rules generated from @rend attributes in TEI file */ -.cover-imagewidth { -width:505px; -} -.xd31e129 { -text-align:center; font-size:large; -} -.xd31e137 { -text-align:center; -} -.titlepage-imagewidth { -width:454px; -} -.xd31e452 { -font-style:italic; -} -.xd31e599 { -text-indent:2em; -} -.xd31e2812 { -text-align:right; -} -@media handheld { -} -/* ]]> */ </style> -</head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Life of the Grasshopper, by J. Henri Fabre</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Life of the Grasshopper</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: J. Henri Fabre</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Alexander Teixeira de Mattos</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 2, 2021 [eBook #66650]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE GRASSHOPPER ***</div> -<div class="front"> -<div class="div1 cover"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"></p> -<div class="figure cover-imagewidth"><img src="images/frontcover.jpg" alt="Original Front Cover." width="505" height="720"></div><p> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 frenchtitle"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first xd31e129">THE LIFE OF THE <br>GRASSHOPPER -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 advertisement"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">BOOKS BY J. HENRI FABRE</h2> -<ul class="xd31e137"> -<li>THE LIFE OF THE SPIDER </li> -<li>THE LIFE OF THE FLY </li> -<li>THE MASON-BEES </li> -<li>BRAMBLE-BEES AND OTHERS </li> -<li>THE HUNTING WASPS </li> -<li>THE LIFE OF THE CATERPILLAR </li> -<li>THE LIFE OF THE GRASSHOPPER </li> -<li>THE SACRED BEETLE AND OTHERS </li> -<li>THE MASON-WASPS </li> -</ul> -<p></p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 titlepage"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"></p> -<div class="figure titlepage-imagewidth"><img src="images/titlepage.png" alt="Original Title Page." width="454" height="720"></div><p> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="titlePage"> -<div class="docTitle"> -<div class="seriesTitle orange">THE WORKS OF J. H. FABRE</div> -<div class="mainTitle">THE LIFE OF THE <br>GRASSHOPPER</div> -</div> -<div class="byline">BY <br><span class="docAuthor orange">J. HENRI FABRE</span> -<br><i>Translated by</i> <br><span class="docAuthor">ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS, F.Z.S.</span> </div> -<div class="docImprint">HODDER AND STOUGHTON LIMITED <br>LONDON </div> -</div> -<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb.v">[<a href="#pb.v">v</a>]</span></p> -<div id="toc" class="div1 contents"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">CONTENTS</h2> -<table class="tocList"> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum"></td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> -</td> -<td class="tocPageNum">PAGE</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum"></td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"><a href="#translator" id="xd31e187">TRANSLATOR’S NOTE</a> -</td> -<td class="tocPageNum">vii</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">CHAPTER</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> -</td> -<td class="tocPageNum"></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">I</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch1" id="xd31e201">THE FABLE OF THE CICADA AND THE ANT</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">II</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch2" id="xd31e211">THE CICADA: LEAVING THE BURROW</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">25</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">III</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch3" id="xd31e221">THE CICADA: THE TRANSFORMATION</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">42</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">IV</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch4" id="xd31e231">THE CICADA: HIS MUSIC</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">58</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">V</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch5" id="xd31e241">THE CICADA: THE LAYING AND THE HATCHING OF THE EGGS</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">82</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">VI</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch6" id="xd31e251">THE MANTIS: HER HUNTING</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">113</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">VII</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch7" id="xd31e261">THE MANTIS: HER LOVE-MAKING</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">137</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">VIII</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch8" id="xd31e271">THE MANTIS: HER NEST</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">147</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">IX</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch9" id="xd31e282">THE MANTIS: HER HATCHING</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">170</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">X</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch10" id="xd31e292">THE EMPUSA</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">191</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XI</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch11" id="xd31e302">THE WHITE-FACED DECTICUS: HIS HABITS</a> <span class="pageNum" id="pb.vi">[<a href="#pb.vi">vi</a>]</span></td> -<td class="tocPageNum">211</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XII</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch12" id="xd31e313">THE WHITE-FACED DECTICUS: THE LAYING AND THE HATCHING OF THE EGGS</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">231</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XIII</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch13" id="xd31e323">THE WHITE-FACED DECTICUS: THE INSTRUMENT OF SOUND</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">246</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XIV</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch14" id="xd31e333">THE GREEN GRASSHOPPER</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">275</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XV</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch15" id="xd31e343">THE CRICKET: THE BURROW; THE EGG</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">300</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XVI</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch16" id="xd31e353">THE CRICKET: THE SONG; THE PAIRING</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">327</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XVII</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch17" id="xd31e363">THE LOCUSTS: THEIR FUNCTION; THEIR ORGAN OF SOUND</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">354</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XVIII</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch18" id="xd31e373">THE LOCUSTS: THEIR EGGS</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">378</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XIX</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch19" id="xd31e383">THE LOCUSTS: THE LAST MOULT</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">401</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XX</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch20" id="xd31e394">THE FOAMY CICADELLA</a> -</td> -<td class="tocPageNum">424</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum"></td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"><a href="#ix" id="xd31e401">INDEX</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">447</td> -</tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb.vii">[<a href="#pb.vii">vii</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="translator" class="div1 note"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e187">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">TRANSLATOR’S NOTE</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">I have ventured in the present volume to gather together, under the somewhat loose -and inaccurate title of <i>The Life of the Grasshopper</i>, the essays scattered over the <i lang="fr">Souvenirs entomologiques</i> that treat of Grasshoppers, Crickets, Locusts and such insects as the Cicada, or -<i>Cigale</i>, the Mantis and the Cuckoo-spit, or, to adopt the author’s happier and more euphonious -term, the Foamy Cicadella. They exhaust the number of the orthopterous and homopterous -insects discussed by Henri Fabre. -</p> -<p>Chapters I. to VIII., XV., XVI. and XIX. have already appeared, in certain cases under -different titles and partly in an abbreviated form, in an interesting miscellany extracted -from the <i lang="fr">Souvenirs</i>, translated by Mr. Bernard Miall and published by the Century Company. This volume, -<i>Social Life in the Insect World</i>, is illustrated with admirable photographs of insects, taken from life, and deserves -a prominent place on the shelves of every lover of Fabre’s works. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb.viii">[<a href="#pb.viii">viii</a>]</span></p> -<p>At the moment of writing, the only one of the following essays that has been published -before, in my translation, is the first of the three describing the White-faced Decticus, -which appeared, in the summer of last year, in the <i>English Review</i>. -</p> -<p>Miss Frances Rodwell has again lent me the most valuable assistance in preparing this -volume; and I am indebted also to Mr. Osman Edwards and Mr. Stephen McKenna for their -graceful rhymed versions of the occasional lyrics that adorn it. -</p> -<p class="signed"><span class="sc">Alexander Teixeira de Mattos.</span> -</p> -<p class="dateline"><span class="sc">Chelsea</span>, 1917. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb1">[<a href="#pb1">1</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="body"> -<div id="ch1" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e201">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER I</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE FABLE OF THE CICADA AND THE ANT</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Fame is built up mainly of legend; in the animal world, as in the world of men, the -story takes precedence of history. Insects in particular, whether they attract our -attention in this way or in that, have their fair share in a folk-lore which pays -but little regard to truth. -</p> -<p>For instance, who does not know the Cicada, at least by name? Where, in the entomological -world, can we find a renown that equals hers? Her reputation as an inveterate singer, -who takes no thought for the future, has formed a subject for our earliest exercises -in repetition. In verses that are very easily learnt, she is shown to us, when the -bitter winds begin to blow, quite destitute and hurrying to her neighbour, the Ant, -to announce her hunger. The would-be borrower meets with a poor <span class="pageNum" id="pb2">[<a href="#pb2">2</a>]</span>welcome and with a reply which has remained proverbial and is the chief cause of the -little creature’s fame. Those two short lines, -</p> -<div lang="fr" class="lgouter xd31e452"> -<p class="line"><i>Vous chantiez! J’en suis bien en aise.</i> </p> -<p class="line"><i>Eh bien, dansez maintenant</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e459src" href="#xd31e459">1</a> </p> -</div> -<p class="first">with their petty malice, have done more for the Cicada’s celebrity than all her talent -as a musician. They enter the child’s mind like a wedge and never leave it. -</p> -<p>To most of us, the Cicada’s song is unknown, for she dwells in the land of the olive-trees; -but we all, big and little, have heard of the snub which she received from the Ant. -See how reputations are made! A story of very doubtful value, offending as much against -morality as against natural history; a nursery-tale whose only merit lies in its brevity: -there we have the origin of a renown which will tower over the ruins of the centuries -like Hop-o’-my-Thumb’s boots and Little Red-Riding-Hood’s basket. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb3">[<a href="#pb3">3</a>]</span></p> -<p>The child is essentially conservative. Custom and traditions become indestructible -once they are confided to the archives of his memory. We owe to him the celebrity -of the Cicada, whose woes he stammered in his first attempts at recitation. He preserves -for us the glaring absurdities that are part and parcel of the fable: the Cicada will -always be hungry when the cold comes, though there are no Cicadæ left in the winter; -she will always beg for the alms of a few grains of wheat, a food quite out of keeping -with her delicate sucker; the supplicant is supposed to hunt for Flies and grubs, -she who never eats! -</p> -<p>Whom are we to hold responsible for these curious blunders? La Fontaine,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e475src" href="#xd31e475">2</a> who charms us in most of his fables with his exquisite delicacy of observation, is -very ill-inspired in this case. He knows thoroughly his common subjects, the Fox, -the Wolf, the Cat, the Goat, the Crow, the Rat, the Weasel and many others, whose -sayings and doings he describes to us with delightful precision of detail. They are -local characters, neighbours, housemates of his. Their <span class="pageNum" id="pb4">[<a href="#pb4">4</a>]</span>public and private life is spent under his eyes; but, where Jack Rabbit gambols, the -Cicada is an entire stranger: La Fontaine never heard of her, never saw her. To him -the famous singer is undoubtedly a Grasshopper. -</p> -<p>Grandville,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e485src" href="#xd31e485">3</a> whose drawings have the same delicious spice of malice as the text itself, falls -into the same error. In his illustration, we see the Ant arrayed like an industrious -housewife. Standing on her threshold, beside great sacks of wheat, she turns a contemptuous -back on the borrower, who is holding out her foot, I beg pardon, her hand. The second -figure wears a great cartwheel hat, with a guitar under her arm and her skirt plastered -to her legs by the wind, and is the perfect picture of a Grasshopper. Grandville no -more than La Fontaine suspected the real appearance of the Cicada; he reproduced magnificently -the general mistake. -</p> -<p>For the rest, La Fontaine, in his poor <span class="pageNum" id="pb5">[<a href="#pb5">5</a>]</span>little story, only echoes another fabulist. The legend of the Cicada’s sorry welcome -by the Ant is as old as selfishness, that is to say, as old as the world. The children -of Athens, going to school with their esparto-grass baskets crammed with figs and -olives, were already mumbling it as a piece for recitation: -</p> -<p>“In winter,” said they, “the Ants dry their wet provisions in the sun. Up comes a -hungry Cicada begging. She asks for a few grains. The greedy hoarders reply, ‘You -used to sing in summer; now dance in winter.’ ”<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e505src" href="#xd31e505">4</a> -</p> -<p>This, although a little more baldly put, is precisely La Fontaine’s theme and is contrary -to all sound knowledge. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb6">[<a href="#pb6">6</a>]</span></p> -<p>Nevertheless the fable comes to us from Greece, which is preeminently the land of -olive-trees and Cicadæ. Was Æsop really the author, as tradition pretends? It is doubtful. -Nor does it matter, after all: the narrator is a Greek and a fellow-countryman of -the Cicada, whom he must know well enough. My village does not contain a peasant so -ignorant as to be unaware of the absolute lack of Cicadæ in winter; every tiller of -the soil is familiar with the insect’s primary state, the larva, which he turns over -with his spade as often as he has occasion to bank up the olive-trees at the approach -of the cold weather; he knows, from seeing it a thousand times along the paths, how -this grub leaves the ground through a round pit of its own making, how it fastens -on to some twig, splits its back, divests itself of its skin, now drier than shrivelled -parchment, and turns into the Cicada, pale grass-green at first, soon to be succeeded -by brown. -</p> -<p>The Attic peasant was no fool either: he had remarked that which cannot escape the -least observant eye; he also knew what my rustic neighbours know so well. The poet, -whoever he may have been, who invented the fable was writing under the best conditions -<span class="pageNum" id="pb7">[<a href="#pb7">7</a>]</span>for knowing all about these things. Then whence did the blunders in his story arise? -</p> -<p>The Greek fabulist had less excuse than La Fontaine for portraying the Cicada of the -books instead of going to the actual Cicada, whose cymbals were echoing at his side; -heedless of the real, he followed tradition. He himself was but echoing a more ancient -scribe; he was repeating some legend handed down from India, the venerable mother -of civilizations. Without knowing exactly the story which the Hindu’s reed had put -in writing to show the danger of a life led without foresight, we are entitled to -believe that the little dialogue set down was nearer to the truth than the conversation -between the Cicada and the Ant. India, the great lover of animals, was incapable of -committing such a mistake. Everything seems to tell us that the leading figure in -the original fable was not our Cicada but rather some other creature, an insect if -you will, whose habits corresponded fittingly with the text adopted. -</p> -<p>Imported into Greece, after serving for centuries to make the wise reflect and to -amuse the children on the banks of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb8">[<a href="#pb8">8</a>]</span>Indus, the ancient story, perhaps as old as the first piece of economical advice vouchsafed -by Paterfamilias and handed down more or less faithfully from memory to memory, must -have undergone an alteration in its details, as do all legends which the course of -the ages adapts to circumstances of time and place. -</p> -<p>The Greek, not possessing in his fields the insect of which the Hindu spoke, dragged -in, as the nearest thing to it, the Cicada, even as in Paris, the modern Athens, the -Cicada is replaced by the Grasshopper. The mischief was done. Henceforth ineradicable, -since it has been confided to the memory of childhood, the mistake will prevail against -an obvious truth. -</p> -<p>Let us try to rehabilitate the singer slandered by the fable. He is, I hasten to admit, -an importunate neighbour. Every summer he comes and settles in his hundreds outside -my door, attracted by the greenery of two tall plane-trees; and here, from sunrise -to sunset, the rasping of his harsh symphony goes through my head. Amid this deafening -concert, thought is impossible; one’s ideas reel and whirl, are incapable of concentrating. -When I have not profited by <span class="pageNum" id="pb9">[<a href="#pb9">9</a>]</span>the early hours of the morning, my day is lost. -</p> -<p>Oh, little demon, plague of my dwelling which I should like to have so peaceful, they -say that the Athenians used to rear you in a cage to enjoy your singing at their ease! -One we could do with, perhaps, during the drowsy hour of digestion; but hundreds at -a time, all rattling and drumming in our ears when we are trying to collect our thoughts, -that is sheer torture! You say that you were here first, do you? Before I came, you -were in undisputed possession of the two plane-trees; and it is I who am the intruder -there. I agree. Nevertheless, muffle your drums, moderate your arpeggios, for the -sake of your biographer! -</p> -<p>Truth will have none of the absurd rigmarole which we find in the fable. That there -are sometimes relations between the Cicada and the Ant is most certain; only, these -relations are the converse of what we are told. They are not made on the initiative -of the Cicada, who is never dependent on the aid of others for his living; they come -from the Ant, a greedy spoiler, who monopolizes every edible thing for her granaries. -At no time does the Cicada go <span class="pageNum" id="pb10">[<a href="#pb10">10</a>]</span>crying famine at the doors of the Ant-hills, promising honestly to repay principal -and interest; on the contrary, it is the Ant who, driven by hunger, begs and entreats -the singer. Entreats, do I say? Borrowing and repaying form no part of the pillager’s -habits. She despoils the Cicada, brazenly robs him of his possessions. Let us describe -this theft, a curious point in natural history and, as yet, unknown. -</p> -<p>In July, during the stifling heat of the afternoon, when the insect populace, parched -with thirst, vainly wanders around the limp and withered flowers in search of refreshment, -the Cicada laughs at the general need. With that delicate gimlet, his rostrum, he -broaches a cask in his inexhaustible cellar. Sitting, always singing, on the branch -of a shrub, he bores through the firm, smooth bark swollen with sap ripened by the -sun. Driving his sucker through the bung-hole, he drinks luxuriously, motionless and -rapt in contemplation, absorbed in the charms of syrup and song. -</p> -<p>Watch him for a little while. We shall perhaps witness unexpected tribulation. There -are many thirsty ones prowling around, in fact; they discover the well betrayed <span class="pageNum" id="pb11">[<a href="#pb11">11</a>]</span>by the sap that oozes from the margin. They hasten up, at first with some discretion, -confining themselves to licking the fluid as it exudes. I see gathering around the -mellifluous puncture Wasps, Flies, Earwigs, Sphex-wasps,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e540src" href="#xd31e540">5</a> Pompili,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e546src" href="#xd31e546">6</a> Rose-chafers<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e552src" href="#xd31e552">7</a> and, above all, Ants. -</p> -<p>The smallest, in order to reach the well, slip under the abdomen of the Cicada, who -good-naturedly raises himself on his legs and leaves a free passage for the intruders; -the larger ones, unable to stand still for impatience, quickly snatch a sip, retreat, -take a walk on the neighbouring branches and then return and show greater enterprise. -The coveting becomes more eager; the discreet ones of a moment ago develop into turbulent -aggressors, ready to chase away from the spring the well-sinker who caused it to gush -forth. -</p> -<p>In this brigandage, the worst offenders <span class="pageNum" id="pb12">[<a href="#pb12">12</a>]</span>are the Ants. I have seen them nibbling at the ends of the Cicada’s legs; I have caught -them tugging at the tips of his wings, climbing on his back, tickling his antennæ. -One, greatly daring, went to the length, before my eyes, of catching hold of his sucker -and trying to pull it out. -</p> -<p>Thus worried by these pigmies and losing all patience, the giant ends by abandoning -the well. He flees, spraying the robbers with his urine as he goes. What cares the -Ant for this expression of supreme contempt! Her object is attained. She is now the -mistress of the spring, which dries up only too soon when the pump that made it flow -ceases to work. There is little of it, but that little is exquisite. It is so much -to the good, enabling her to wait for another draught, acquired in the same fashion, -as soon as the occasion presents itself. -</p> -<p>You see, the actual facts entirely reverse the parts assigned in the fable. The hardened -beggar, who does not shrink from theft, is the Ant; the industrious artisan, gladly -sharing his possessions with the sufferer, is the Cicada. I will mention one more -detail; and the reversal of characters will stand out even more clearly. After five -<span class="pageNum" id="pb13">[<a href="#pb13">13</a>]</span>or six weeks of wassail, which is a long space of time, the singer, exhausted by the -strain of life, drops from the tree. The sun dries up the body; the feet of the passers-by -crush it. The Ant, always a highway-robber in search of spoil, comes upon it. She -cuts up the rich dish, dissects it, carves it and reduces it to morsels which go to -swell her hoard of provisions. It is not unusual to see a dying Cicada, with his wing -still quivering in the dust, drawn and quartered by a gang of knackers. He is quite -black with them. After this cannibalistic proceeding, there is no question as to the -true relations between the two insects. -</p> -<p>The ancients held the Cicada in high favour. Anacreon, the Greek Béranger,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e570src" href="#xd31e570">8</a> devoted an ode to singing his praises in curiously exaggerated language: -</p> -<p>“Thou art almost like unto the gods,” says he. -</p> -<p>The reasons which he gives for this apotheosis are none of the best. They consist -of these three privileges: <span class="trans" title="gēgenēs, apathēs, anaimosarke"><span lang="grc" class="grek">γηγενής, απαθής, ὰναιμόσαρκε</span></span>; earthborn, insensible to pain, bloodless. Let us not start reproaching <span class="pageNum" id="pb14">[<a href="#pb14">14</a>]</span>the poet for these blunders, which were generally believed at the time and perpetuated -for very long after, until the observer’s searching eyes were opened. Besides, it -does not do to look so closely at verses whose chief merit lies in harmony and rhythm. -</p> -<p>Even in our own days, the Provençal poets, who are at least as familiar with the Cicada -as Anacreon was, are not so very careful of the truth in celebrating the insect which -they take as an emblem. One of my friends, a fervent observer and a scrupulous realist, -escapes this reproach. He has authorized me to take from his unpublished verse the -following Provençal ballad, which depicts the relations between the Cicada and the -Ant with strictly scientific accuracy. I leave to him the responsibility for his poetic -images and his moral views, delicate flowers outside my province as a naturalist; -but I can vouch for the truth of his story, which tallies with what I see every summer -on the lilac-trees in my garden. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb15">[<a href="#pb15">15</a>]</span> </p> -<div lang="fr" class="lgouter"> -<h4><span class="sc">La Cigalo e la Fournigo</span></h4> -<div class="lg"> -<h4>I</h4> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">Jour de Dièu, queto caud! Bèu tèms pèr la cigalo </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Que, trefoulido, se regalo </p> -<p class="line">D’uno raisso de fiò; bèu tèms pèr la meissoun. </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Dins lis erso d’or, lou segaire, </p> -<p class="line">Ren plega, pitre au vent, rustico e canto gaire: </p> -<p class="line">Dins soun gousiè, la set estranglo la cansoun. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">Tèms benesi pèr tu. Dounc, ardit! cigaleto, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Fai-lei brusi, ti chimbaleto, </p> -<p class="line">E brandusso lou ventre à creba ti mirau. </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">L’Ome enterin mando la daio, </p> -<p class="line">Que vai balin-balan de longo e que dardaio </p> -<p class="line">L’uiau de soun acié sus li rous espigau. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">Plèn d’aigo pèr la péiro e tampouna d’erbiho </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Lou coufié sus l’anco pendiho. </p> -<p class="line">Se la péiro es au frès dins soun estui de bos </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">E se de longo es abèurado, </p> -<p class="line">L’Ome barbelo au fiò d’aqueli souleiado </p> -<p class="line">Que fan bouli de fes la mesoulo dis os. </p> -</div> -<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb16">[<a href="#pb16">16</a>]</span></p> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">Tu, Cigalo, as un biais pèr la set: dins la rusco </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Tendro e jutouso d’uno busco, </p> -<p class="line">L’aguio de toun bè cabusso e cavo un pous. </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Lou sirò monto pèr la draio. </p> -<p class="line">T’amourres à la fon melicouso que raio, </p> -<p class="line">E dòu sourgènt sucra bèves lou teta-dous. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">Mai pas toujour en pas, oh! que nàni: de laire, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Vesin, vesino o barrulaire, </p> -<p class="line">T’an vist cava lou pous. An set; vènon, doulènt, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Te prène un degout pèr si tasso. </p> -<p class="line">Mesfiso-te, ma bello: aqueli curo-biasso, </p> -<p class="line">Umble d’abord, soun lèu de gusas insoulènt. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">Quiston un chicouloun de rèn; pièi de ti resto </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Soun plus countènt, ausson la testo </p> -<p class="line">E volon tout. L’auran. Sis arpioun en rastèu </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Te gatihoun lou bout de l’alo. </p> -<p class="line">Sus ta larjo esquinasso es un mounto-davalo; </p> -<p class="line">T’aganton pèr lou bè, li bano, lis artèu; </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">Tiron d’eici, d’eilà. L’impaciènci te gagno. </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Pst! pst! d’un giscle de pissagno </p> -<p class="line">Aspèrges l’assemblado e quites lou ramèu. </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">T’en vas bèn liuen de la racaio, <span class="pageNum" id="pb17">[<a href="#pb17">17</a>]</span></p> -<p class="line">Que t’a rauba lou pous, e ris, e se gougaio, </p> -<p class="line">E se lipo li brego enviscado de mèu. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">Or d’aqueli boumian abèura sens fatigo, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Lou mai tihous es la fournigo. </p> -<p class="line">Mousco, cabrian, guespo e tavan embana, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Espeloufi de touto meno, </p> -<p class="line">Costo-en-long qu’à toun pous lou souleias ameno, </p> -<p class="line">N’an pas soun testardige à te faire enana. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">Pèr t’esquicha l’artèu, te coutiga lou mourre, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Te pessuga lou nas, pèr courre </p> -<p class="line">A l’oumbro de toun ventre, osco! degun la vau. </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Lou marrit-péu prend pèr escalo </p> -<p class="line">Uno patto e te monto, ardido, sus lis alo, </p> -<p class="line">E s’espasso, insoulènto, e vai d’amont, d’avau. </p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<h4>II</h4> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line xd31e599">Aro veici qu’es pas de crèire. </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Ancian tèms, nous dison li rèire, </p> -<p class="line">Un jour d’ivèr, la fam te prenguè. Lou front bas </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">E d’escoundoun anères vèire, </p> -<p class="line">Dins si grand magasin, la fournigo, eilàbas. </p> -</div> -<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb18">[<a href="#pb18">18</a>]</span></p> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line xd31e599">L’endrudido au soulèu secavo, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Avans de lis escoundre en cavo, </p> -<p class="line">Si blad qu’aviè mousi l’eigagno de la niue. </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Quand èron lest lis ensacavo. </p> -<p class="line">Tu survènes alor, emè de plour is iue. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line xd31e599">Ié disés: “Fai bèn fre; l’aurasso </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">D’un caire à l’autre me tirasso </p> -<p class="line">Avanido de fam. A toun riche mouloun </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Leisso-me prène pèr ma biasso. </p> -<p class="line">Te lou rendrai segur au bèu tèms di meloun. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line xd31e599">“Presto-me un pau de gran.” Mai, bouto, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Se cresès que l’autro, t’escouto, </p> -<p class="line">T’enganes. Di gros sa, rèn de rèn sara tièu. </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">“Vai-t’en plus liuen rascia de bouto; </p> -<p class="line">Crebo de fam l’iver, tu que cantes l’estièu” </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line xd31e599">Ansin charro la fablo antico </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Pèr nous counséia la pratico </p> -<p class="line">Di sarro-piastro, urous de nousa li courdoun </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">De si bourso.—Que la coulico </p> -<p class="line">Rousiguè la tripaio en aqueli coudoun! </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line xd31e599">Me fai susa, lou fabulisto, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Quand dis que l’ivèr vas en quisto <span class="pageNum" id="pb19">[<a href="#pb19">19</a>]</span></p> -<p class="line">De mousco, verme, gran, tu que manges jamai. </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">De blad! Que n’en fariès, ma fisto! </p> -<p class="line">As ta fon melicouso e demandes rèn mai. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line xd31e599">Que t’enchau l’ivèr! Ta famiho </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">A la sousto en terro soumiho, </p> -<p class="line">E tu dormes la som que n’a ges de revèi; </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Toun cadabre toumbo en douliho. </p> -<p class="line">Un jour, en tafurant, la fournigo lou vèi. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line xd31e599">De ta magro péu dessecado </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">La marriasso fai becado; </p> -<p class="line">Te curo lou perus, te chapouto à moucèu, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">T’encafourno pèr car-salado, </p> -<p class="line">Requisto prouvisioun, l’ivèr, en tèms de nèu. </p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<h4>III</h4> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line xd31e599">Vaqui l’istori veritablo </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Bèn liuen dòu conte de la fablo. </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Que n’en pensas, canèu de sort! </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">—O ramaissaire de dardeno, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Det croucu, boumbudo bedeno </p> -<p class="line">Que gouvernas lou mounde emé lou coffre-fort, </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line xd31e599">Fasès courre lou bru, canaio </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Que l’artisto jamai travaio <span class="pageNum" id="pb20">[<a href="#pb20">20</a>]</span></p> -<p class="line xd31e599">E dèu pati, lou bedigas. </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Teisas-vous dounc: quand di lambrusco </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">La Cigalo a cava la rusco, </p> -<p class="line">Raubas soun bèure, e pièi, morto, la rousigas. </p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="first">Thus speaks my friend, in his expressive Provençal tongue, rehabilitating the Cicada, -who has been so grossly libelled by the fabulist. -</p> -<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">TRANSLATOR’S NOTE</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">I am indebted for the following translation to the felicitous pen of my friend Mr. -Osman Edwards: -</p> -<div class="lgouter"> -<h4>THE CICADA AND THE ANT</h4> -<div class="lg"> -<h4>I</h4> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">Ye gods, what heat! Cicada thrills </p> -<p class="line">With mad delight when fairy rills </p> -<p class="line">Submerge the corn in waves of gold, </p> -<p class="line">When, with bowed back and toil untold, </p> -<p class="line">His blade the songless reaper plies, </p> -<p class="line">For in dry throats song gasps and dies. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">This hour is thine: then, loud and clear, </p> -<p class="line">Thy cymbals clash, Cicada dear, <span class="pageNum" id="pb21">[<a href="#pb21">21</a>]</span></p> -<p class="line">Let mirrors crack, let belly writhe! </p> -<p class="line">Behold! The man yet darts his scythe, </p> -<p class="line">Whose glitter lifts and drops again </p> -<p class="line">A lightning-flash on ruddy grain. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">With grass and water well supplied, </p> -<p class="line">His whetstone dangles at his side; </p> -<p class="line">The whetstone in its case of wood </p> -<p class="line">Has moisture for each thirsty mood; </p> -<p class="line">But he, poor fellow, pants and moans, </p> -<p class="line">The marrow boiling in his bones. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">Dost thirst, Cicada? Never mind! </p> -<p class="line">Deep in a young bough’s tender rind </p> -<p class="line">Thy sharp proboscis bores a well, </p> -<p class="line">Whence, narrowly, sweet juices swell. </p> -<p class="line">Ah, soon what honied joys are thine </p> -<p class="line">To quaff a vintage so divine! </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">In peace? Not always.… There’s a band </p> -<p class="line">Of roving thieves (or close at hand) </p> -<p class="line">Who watched thee draw the nectar up </p> -<p class="line">And beg one drop with doleful cup. </p> -<p class="line">Beware, my love! They humbly crave; </p> -<p class="line">Soon each will prove a saucy knave. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">The merest sip?—’Tis set aside. </p> -<p class="line">What’s left?—They are not satisfied. </p> -<p class="line">All must be theirs, who rudely fling </p> -<p class="line">A rakish claw athwart thy wing; </p> -<p class="line">Next on thy back swarm up and down, </p> -<p class="line">From tip to toe, from tail to crown. </p> -</div> -<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb22">[<a href="#pb22">22</a>]</span></p> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">On every side they fuss and fret, </p> -<p class="line">Provoking an impatient jet; </p> -<p class="line">Thou leavest soon the sprinkled rind, </p> -<p class="line">Its robber-rascals, far behind; </p> -<p class="line">Thy well purloined, each grins and skips </p> -<p class="line">And licks the honey from her lips. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">No tireless, quenchless mendicant </p> -<p class="line">Is so persistent as the Ant; </p> -<p class="line">Wasps, Beetles, Hornets, Drones and Flies, </p> -<p class="line">Sharpers of every sort and size, </p> -<p class="line">Loafers, intent on ousting thee, </p> -<p class="line">All are less obstinate than she. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">To pinch thy toe, thy nose to tweak, </p> -<p class="line">To tickle face and loins, to sneak </p> -<p class="line">Beneath thy belly, who so bold? </p> -<p class="line">Give her the tiniest foothold, </p> -<p class="line">The slut will march from side to side </p> -<p class="line">Across thy wings in shameless pride. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<div class="lg"> -<h4>II</h4> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">Now here’s a story that is told, </p> -<p class="line">Incredible, by men of old: </p> -<p class="line">Once starving on a winter’s day </p> -<p class="line">By secret, miserable way </p> -<p class="line">Thou soughtest out the Ant and found </p> -<p class="line">Her spacious warehouse underground. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">That rich possessor in the sun </p> -<p class="line">Was busy drying, one by one, </p> -<p class="line">Her treasures, moist with the night’s dew, </p> -<p class="line">Before she buried them from view <span class="pageNum" id="pb23">[<a href="#pb23">23</a>]</span></p> -<p class="line">In corn-sacks of sufficient size; </p> -<p class="line">Then didst thou sue with tearful eyes, </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">Saying, “Alas! This deadly breeze </p> -<p class="line">Pursues me everywhere; I freeze </p> -<p class="line">With hunger; let me fill (no more!) </p> -<p class="line">My wallet from that copious store; </p> -<p class="line">Next year, when melons are full-blown, </p> -<p class="line">Be sure I shall repay the loan! </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">“Lend me a little corn!”—Absurd! </p> -<p class="line">Of course she will not hear a word; </p> -<p class="line">Thou wilt not win, for all thy pain, </p> -<p class="line">From bulging sacks a single grain. </p> -<p class="line">“Be off and scrape the binns!” she cries: </p> -<p class="line">“Who sang in June, in winter dies.” </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">Thus doth the ancient tail impart </p> -<p class="line">Fit moral for a miser’s heart; </p> -<p class="line">Bids him all charity forget </p> -<p class="line">And draw his purse-strings tighter yet. </p> -<p class="line">May colic chase such scurvy knaves </p> -<p class="line">With pangs internal to their graves! </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">A sorry fabulist, indeed, </p> -<p class="line">Who fancied that the winter’s need </p> -<p class="line">Would drive thee to subsist, forlorn, </p> -<p class="line">On Flies, on grubs, on grains of corn; </p> -<p class="line">No need was ever thine of those, </p> -<p class="line">For whom the honied fountain flows. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">What matters winter? All thy kin </p> -<p class="line">Beneath the earth are gathered in; <span class="pageNum" id="pb24">[<a href="#pb24">24</a>]</span></p> -<p class="line">Thou sleepest with unwaking heart, </p> -<p class="line">While the frail body falls apart </p> -<p class="line">In rags that unregarded lie, </p> -<p class="line">Save by the Ant’s rapacious eye. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">She, groping greedily, one day </p> -<p class="line">Makes of thy shrivelled corpse her prey; </p> -<p class="line">Dissects the trunk, gnaws limb from limb, </p> -<p class="line">Concocts, according to her whim, </p> -<p class="line">A salad such grim housewives know, </p> -<p class="line">A tit-bit saved for hours of snow. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<div class="lg"> -<h4>III</h4> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">That, gentlemen, is truly told, </p> -<p class="line">Unlike the fairy-tale of old; </p> -<p class="line">But finds it favour in his sight, </p> -<p class="line">Who grabs at farthings, day and night? </p> -<p class="line">Pot-bellied, crooked-fingered, he </p> -<p class="line">Would rule the world with L.S.D. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">Such riff-raff spread the vulgar view </p> -<p class="line">That “artists are a lazy crew,” </p> -<p class="line">That “fools must suffer.” Silent be! </p> -<p class="line">When the Cicada taps the tree, </p> -<p class="line">You steal his drink; when life has fled, </p> -<p class="line">You basely batten on the dead. </p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb25">[<a href="#pb25">25</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e459" lang="en"> -<p class="footnote" lang="en"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e459src">1</a></span> </p> -<div class="q"> -<div class="nestedtext"> -<div class="nestedbody"> -<div class="lgouter footnote"> -<p class="line">You used to sing! I’m glad to know it. </p> -<p class="line">Well, try dancing for a change! </p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div><p></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e475"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e475src">2</a></span> Jean de La Fontaine (1621–1695), the author of the world-famous <i>Fables</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e475src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e485"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e485src">3</a></span> Jean Ignace Isidore Gérard (1803–1847), better known by his pseudonym of Grandville, -a famous French caricaturist and illustrator of La Fontaine’s <i>Fables</i>, Béranger’s <i lang="fr">Chansons</i> and the standard French editions of <i>Robinson Crusoe</i> and <i>Gulliver’s Travels</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e485src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e505"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e505src">4</a></span> Sir Roger L’Estrange attributes the fable to Anianus and, as is usual in the English -version, substitutes the Grasshopper for the Cicada. It may be interesting to quote -his translation: -</p> -<p class="footnote cont">“As the Ants were airing their provisions one winter, up comes a hungry Grasshopper -to ’em and begs a charity. They told him that he should have wrought in summer, if -he would not have wanted in winter. ‘Well,’ says the Grasshopper, ‘but I was not idle -neither; for I sung out the whole season.’ ‘Nay then,’ said they, ‘you shall e’en -do well to make a merry year on’t and dance in winter to the tune that you sung in -summer.’ ”—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e505src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e540"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e540src">5</a></span> Cf. <i>The Hunting Wasps</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps. iv. to x.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e540src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e546"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e546src">6</a></span> For the Pompilus-wasp, or Ringed Calicurgus, cf. <i>The Life and Love of the Insect</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. xii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e546src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e552"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e552src">7</a></span> For the grub of the Rose-chafer, or Cetonia, cf. <i>The Life and Love of the Insect</i>: chap. xi.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e552src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e570"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e570src">8</a></span> Pierre Jean de Béranger (1780–1857), the popular French lyric poet.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e570src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch2" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e211">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER II</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE CICADA: LEAVING THE BURROW</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">To come back to the Cicada after Réaumur<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e946src" href="#xd31e946">1</a> has told the insect’s story would be waste of time, save that the disciple enjoys -an advantage unknown to the master. The great naturalist received the materials for -his work from my part of the world; his subjects came by barge after being carefully -preserved in spirits. I, on the other hand, live in the Cicada’s company. When July -comes, he takes possession of the enclosure right up to the threshold of the house. -The hermitage is our joint property. I remain master indoors; but out of doors he -is the sovereign lord and an extremely noisy and abusive one. Our near neighbourhood -and constant association <span class="pageNum" id="pb26">[<a href="#pb26">26</a>]</span>have enabled me to enter into certain details of which Réaumur could not dream. -</p> -<p>The first Cicadæ appear at the time of the summer solstice. Along the much-trodden -paths baked by the sun and hardened by the frequent passage of feet there open, level -with the ground, round orifices about the size of a man’s thumb. These are the exit-holes -of the Cicada-larvæ, who come up from the depths to undergo their transformation on -the surface. They are more or less everywhere, except in soil turned over by the plough. -Their usual position is in the driest spots, those most exposed to the sun, especially -by the side of the roads. Equipped with powerful tools to pass, if necessary, through -sandstone and dried clay, the larva, on leaving the earth, has a fancy for the hardest -places. -</p> -<p>One of the garden-paths, converted into a little inferno by the glare from a wall -facing south, abounds in such exit-holes. I proceed, in the last days of June, to -examine these recently abandoned pits. The soil is so hard that I have to take my -pickaxe to tackle it. -</p> -<p>The orifices are round and nearly an inch in diameter. There is absolutely no rubbish -around them, no mound of earth thrown up <span class="pageNum" id="pb27">[<a href="#pb27">27</a>]</span>outside. This is invariably the case: the Cicada’s hole is never surmounted with a -mole-hill, as are the burrows of the Geotrupes,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e961src" href="#xd31e961">2</a> or Dorbeetles, those other sturdy excavators. The manner of working accounts for -this difference. The Dung-beetle progresses from the outside inwards; he commences -his digging at the mouth of the well, which allows him to ascend and heap up on the -surface the material which he has extracted. The larva of the Cicada, on the other -hand, goes from the inside outwards; the last thing that it does is to open the exit-door, -which, remaining closed until the very end of the work, cannot be used for getting -rid of the rubbish. The former goes in and makes a mound on the threshold of the home; -the latter comes out and cannot heap up anything on a threshold that does not yet -exist. -</p> -<p>The Cicada’s tunnel runs to a depth of between fifteen and sixteen inches. It is cylindrical, -winds slightly, according to the exigencies of the soil, and is always nearly perpendicular, -for it is shorter to go that way. The passage is quite open throughout <span class="pageNum" id="pb28">[<a href="#pb28">28</a>]</span>its length. It is useless to search for the rubbish which this excavation ought, one -would think, to produce; we see none anywhere. The tunnel ends in a blind alley, in -a rather wider chamber, with level walls and not the least vestige of communication -with any gallery prolonging the well. -</p> -<p>Reckoned by its length and its diameter, the excavation represents a volume of about -twelve cubic inches. What has become of the earth removed? Sunk in very dry and very -loose soil, the well and the chamber at the bottom ought to have crumbly walls, which -would easily fall in, if nothing else had taken place but the work of boring. My surprise -was great to find, on the contrary, coated surfaces, washed with a paste of clayey -earth. They are not by a long way what one could call smooth, but at any rate their -irregularities are covered with a layer of plaster; and their slippery materials, -soaked with some agglutinant, are kept in position. -</p> -<p>The larva can move about and climb nearly up to the surface and down again to its -refuge at the bottom without producing, with its clawed legs, landslips which would -block the tube, making ascent difficult and <span class="pageNum" id="pb29">[<a href="#pb29">29</a>]</span>retreat impossible. The miner shores up his galleries with pit-props and cross-beams; -the builder of underground railways strengthens his tunnels with a casing of brickwork; -the Cicada’s larva, which is quite as clever an engineer, cements its shaft so as -to keep it open however long it may have to serve. -</p> -<p>If I surprise the creature at the moment when it emerges from the soil to make for -a neighbouring branch and there undergo its transformation, I see it at once beat -a prudent retreat and, without the slightest difficulty, run down again to the bottom -of its gallery, proving that, even when the dwelling is on the point of being abandoned -for good, it does not become blocked with earth. -</p> -<p>The ascending-shaft is not a piece of work improvised in a hurry, in the insect’s -impatience to reach the sunlight; it is a regular manor-house, an abode in which the -grub is meant to make a long stay. So the plastered walls tell us. Any such precaution -would be superfluous in the case of a mere exit abandoned as soon as bored. There -is not a doubt but that we have here a sort of meteorological station in which observations -are taken of the weather outside. Underground, fifteen inches down, or more, the <span class="pageNum" id="pb30">[<a href="#pb30">30</a>]</span>larva ripe for its emergence is hardly able to judge whether the climatic conditions -be favourable. Its subterranean weather is too gradual in its changes to be able to -supply it with the precise indications necessary for the most important action of -its life, its escape into the sunlight for the metamorphosis. -</p> -<p>Patiently, for weeks, perhaps for months, it digs, clears and strengthens a perpendicular -chimney, leaving at the surface, to keep it sequestered from the world without, a -layer as thick as one’s finger. At the bottom it makes itself a recess more carefully -built than the remainder. This is its refuge, its waiting-room, where it rests if -its reconnoitring lead it to defer its emigration. At the least suspicion of fine -weather, it scrambles up, tests the exterior through the thin layer of earth forming -a lid and enquires into the temperature and the degree of humidity of the air. -</p> -<p>If things do not bode well, if a heavy shower threaten or a blustering storm—events -of supreme importance when the delicate Cicada throws off her skin—the prudent insect -slips back to the bottom of the tube and goes on waiting. If, on the other hand, the -atmospheric conditions be favourable, <span class="pageNum" id="pb31">[<a href="#pb31">31</a>]</span>then the ceiling is smashed with a few strokes of the claws and the larva emerges -from the well. -</p> -<p>Everything seems to confirm that the Cicada’s gallery is a waiting-room, a meteorological -station where the larva stays for a long time, now hoisting itself near the surface -to discover the state of the weather, now retreating to the depths for better shelter. -This explains the convenience of a resting-place at the base and the need for a strong -cement on walls which, without it, would certainly give way under continual comings -and goings. -</p> -<p>What is not so easily explained is the complete disappearance of the rubbish corresponding -with the space excavated. What has become of the twelve cubic inches of earth yielded -by an average well? There is nothing outside to represent them, nor anything inside -either. And then how, in a soil dry as cinders, is the plaster obtained with which -the walls are glazed? -</p> -<p>Larvæ that gnaw into wood, such as those of the Capricorn and the Buprestes,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e991src" href="#xd31e991">3</a> <span class="pageNum" id="pb32">[<a href="#pb32">32</a>]</span>for instance, ought to be able to answer the first question. They make their way inside -a tree-trunk, boring galleries by eating the materials of the road which they open. -Detached in tiny fragments by the mandibles, these materials are digested. They pass -through the pioneer’s body from end to end, yielding up their meagre nutritive elements -on the way, and accumulate behind, completely blocking the road which the grub will -never take again. The work of excessive division and subdivision, done either by the -mandibles or the stomach, causes the digested materials to take up less room than -the untouched wood; and the result is a space in front of the gallery, a chamber in -which the grub works, a chamber which is greatly restricted in length, giving the -prisoner just enough room to move about. -</p> -<p>Can it not be in a similar fashion that the Cicada-grub bores its tunnel? Certainly -the waste material flung up as it digs its way does not pass through its body; even -if the soil were of the softest and most yielding character, earth plays no part whatever -in the larva’s food. But, after all, cannot the materials removed be simply shot back -as the work proceeds? The Cicada remains <span class="pageNum" id="pb33">[<a href="#pb33">33</a>]</span>four years in the ground. This long life is not, of course, spent at the bottom of -the well which we have described: this is just a place where the larva prepares for -its emergence. It comes from elsewhere, doubtless from some distance. It is a vagabond, -going from one root to another and driving its sucker into each. When it moves, either -to escape from the upper layers, which are too cold in winter, or to settle down at -a better drinking-bar, it clears a road by flinging behind it the materials broken -up by its pickaxes. This is undoubtedly the method. -</p> -<p>As with the larvæ of the Capricorn and the Buprestes, the traveller needs around him -only the small amount of free room which his movements require. Damp, soft, easily -compressed earth is to this larva what the digested pap is to the others. Such earth -is heaped up without difficulty; it condenses and leaves a vacant space. -</p> -<p>The difficulty is one of a different kind with the exit-well bored in a very dry soil, -which offers a marked resistance to compression so long as it retains its aridity. -That the larva, when beginning to dig its passage, flung back part of the excavated -materials into an earlier gallery which has now disappeared <span class="pageNum" id="pb34">[<a href="#pb34">34</a>]</span>is fairly probable, though there is nothing in the condition of things to tell us -so; but, if we consider the capacity of the well and the extreme difficulty of finding -room for so great a volume of rubbish, our doubts return and we say to ourselves: -</p> -<p>“This rubbish demanded a large empty space, which itself was obtained by shifting -other refuse no less difficult to house. The room required presupposes the existence -of another space into which the earth extracted was shot.” -</p> -<p>And so we find ourselves in a vicious circle, for the mere subsidence of materials -flung behind would not be enough to explain so great a void. The Cicada must have -a special method of disposing of the superfluous earth. Let us try and surprise his -secret. -</p> -<p>Examine a larva at the moment when it emerges from the ground. It is nearly always -more or less soiled with mud, sometimes wet, sometimes dry. The digging-implements, -the fore-feet, have the points of their pickaxes stuck in a globule of slime; its -other legs are cased in mud; its back is spotted with clay. We are reminded of a scavenger -who has been stirring up sewage. <span class="pageNum" id="pb35">[<a href="#pb35">35</a>]</span>These stains are the more striking inasmuch as the creature comes out of exceedingly -dry ground. We expected to see it covered with dust and we find it covered with mud. -</p> -<p>One more step in this direction and the problem of the well is solved. I exhume a -larva which happens to be working at its exit-gallery. Very occasionally, I get a -piece of luck like this, in the course of my digging; it would be useless for me to -try for it, as there is nothing outside to guide my search. My welcome prize is just -beginning its excavations. An inch of tunnel, free from any rubbish, and the waiting-room -at the bottom represent all the work for the moment. In what condition is the worker? -We shall see. -</p> -<p>The grub is much paler in colour than those which I catch as they emerge. Its big -eyes in particular are whitish, cloudy, squinting and apparently of little use for -seeing. What good is sight underground? The eyes of the larvæ issuing from the earth -are, on the contrary, black and shining and indicate ability to see. When it makes -its appearance in the sunshine, the future Cicada has to seek, occasionally at some -distance from the exit-hole, the hanging <span class="pageNum" id="pb36">[<a href="#pb36">36</a>]</span>branch on which the metamorphosis will be performed; and here sight will manifestly -be useful. This maturity of vision attained during the preparation for the release -is enough to show us that the larva, far from hastily improvising its ascending-shaft, -works at it for a long time. -</p> -<p>Moreover, the pale and blind larva is bulkier than it is in the state of maturity. -It is swollen with liquid and looks dropsical. If you take it in your fingers, a limpid -humour oozes from the hinder part and moistens the whole body. Is this fluid, expelled -from the intestines, a urinary product? Is it just the residue of a stomach fed solely -on sap? I will not decide the question and will content myself with calling it urine, -merely for convenience. -</p> -<p>Well, this fountain of urine is the key to the mystery. The larva, as it goes on and -digs, sprinkles the dusty materials and makes them into paste, which is forthwith -applied to the walls by abdominal pressure. The original dryness is succeeded by plasticity. -The mud obtained penetrates the interstices of a rough soil; the more liquid part -of it trickles in front; the remainder is compressed and packed and occupies the empty -<span class="pageNum" id="pb37">[<a href="#pb37">37</a>]</span>spaces in between. Thus is an unblocked tunnel obtained, without any refuse, because -the dust and rubbish are used on the spot in the form of a mortar which is more compact -and more homogeneous than the soil traversed. -</p> -<p>The larva therefore works in the midst of clayey mire; and this is the cause of the -stains that astonish us so much when we see it issuing from excessively dry soil. -The perfect insect, though relieved henceforth from all mining labour, does not utterly -abandon the use of its bladder; a few drains of urine are preserved as a weapon of -defence. When too closely observed, it discharges a spray at the intruder and quickly -flies away. In either form, the Cicada, his dry constitution notwithstanding, proves -himself a skilled irrigator. -</p> -<p>Dropsical though it be, the larva cannot carry sufficient liquid to moisten and turn -into compressible mud the long column of earth which has to be tunnelled. The reservoir -becomes exhausted and the supply has to be renewed. How is this done and when? I think -I see. -</p> -<p>The few wells which I have laid bare throughout their length, with the painstaking -<span class="pageNum" id="pb38">[<a href="#pb38">38</a>]</span>care which this sort of digging demands, show me at the bottom, encrusted in the wall -of the terminal chamber, a live root, sometimes as big as a lead-pencil, sometimes -no thicker than a straw. The visible part of this root is quite small, barely a fraction -of an inch. The rest is contained in the surrounding earth. Is the discovery of this -sort of sap fortuitous? Or is it the result of a special search on the larva’s part? -The presence of a rootlet is so frequent, at least when my digging is skilfully conducted, -that I rather favour the latter alternative. -</p> -<p>Yes, the Cicada-grub, when hollowing out its cell, the starting-point of the future -chimney, seeks the immediate neighbourhood of a small live root; it lays bare a certain -portion, which continues the side wall without projecting. This live spot in the wall -is, I think, the fount from which the contents of the urinary bladder are renewed -as the need arises. When its reserves are exhausted by the conversion of dry dust -into mud, the miner goes down to his chamber, drives in his sucker and takes a deep -draught from the cask built into the wall. With his jug well filled, he goes up again. -He resumes his work, wetting the hard earth the <span class="pageNum" id="pb39">[<a href="#pb39">39</a>]</span>better to flatten it with his claws and reducing the dusty rubbish to mud which can -be heaped up around him and leave a clear thoroughfare. That is how things must happen. -So logic and the circumstances of the case tell us, in the absence of direct observation, -which is not feasible here. -</p> -<p>If this root-cask fail, if moreover the reservoir of the intestine be exhausted, what -will happen then? We shall learn from the following experiment. I catch a grub as -it is leaving the ground. I put it at the bottom of a test-tube and cover it with -a column of dry earth, not too closely packed. The column is nearly six inches high. -The larva has just quitted an excavation thrice as deep, in soil of the same nature, -but offering a much greater resistance. Now that it is buried under my short, sandy -column, will it be capable of climbing to the surface? If it were a mere matter of -strength, the issue would be certain. What can an obstacle without cohesion be to -one that has just bored a hole through the hard ground? -</p> -<p>And yet I am assailed by doubts. To break down the screen that still separated it -from the outer air, the larva has expended its last reserves of fluid. The flask is -dry; <span class="pageNum" id="pb40">[<a href="#pb40">40</a>]</span>and there is no way of replenishing it in the absence of a live root. My suspicion -of failure is well-founded. For three days I see the entombed one wasting itself in -efforts without succeeding in rising an inch higher. The materials removed refuse -to stay in position for lack of anything to bind them; they are no sooner pushed aside -than they slip down again under the insect’s legs. The labour has no perceptible result -and has always to be done all over again. On the fourth day, the creature dies. -</p> -<p>With the water-can full, the result is quite different. I subject to the same experiment -an insect whose work of self-deliverance is just beginning. It is all swollen with -urinary humours which ooze out and moisten its whole body. This one’s task is easy. -The materials offer hardly any resistance. A little moisture, supplied by the miner’s -flask, converts them into mud, sticks them together and keeps them out of the way. -The passage is opened, very irregular in shape, it is true, and almost filled up at -the back as the ascent proceeds. It is as though the larva, recognizing the impossibility -of renewing its store of fluid, were saving up the little which it possesses and spending -no <span class="pageNum" id="pb41">[<a href="#pb41">41</a>]</span>more than is strictly necessary to enable it to escape as quickly as possible from -its unfamiliar surroundings. This economy is so well arranged that the insect reaches -the surface at the end of ten days. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb42">[<a href="#pb42">42</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e946"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e946src">1</a></span> René Antoine Ferchault de Réaumur (1683–1757), inventor of the Réaumur thermometer -and author of <i lang="fr">Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire naturelle des insectes</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e946src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e961"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e961src">2</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life and Love of the Insect</i>: chap. ix.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e961src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e991"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e991src">3</a></span> The Capricorn, or Cerambyx-beetle, lives in oak-trees; the Buprestis-beetles are found -mostly in felled timber.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e991src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch3" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e221">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER III</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE CICADA: THE TRANSFORMATION</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The exit-gate is passed and left wide open, like a hole made with a large gimlet. -For some time the larva wanders about the neighbourhood, looking for some aerial support, -a tiny bush, a tuft of thyme, a blade of grass or the twig of a shrub. It finds it, -climbs up and, head upwards, clings to it firmly with the claws of the fore-feet, -which close and do not let go again. The other legs take part in sustaining it, if -the position of the branch make this possible; if not, the two claws suffice. There -follows a moment of rest to allow the supporting arms to stiffen into an immovable -grip. -</p> -<p>First, the mesothorax splits along the middle of the back. The edges of the slit separate -slowly and reveal the pale-green colour of the insect. Almost immediately afterwards, -the prothorax splits also. The longitudinal fissure reaches the back of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb43">[<a href="#pb43">43</a>]</span>head above and the metathorax below, without spreading farther. The wrapper of the -skull breaks crosswise, in front of the eyes; and the red stemmata appear. The green -portion uncovered by these ruptures swells and protrudes over the whole of the mesothorax. -We see slow palpitations, alternate contractions and distensions due to the ebb and -flow of the blood. This hernia, working at first out of sight, is the wedge that made -the cuirass split along two crossed lines of least resistance. -</p> -<p>The skinning-operation makes rapid progress. Soon the head is free. Then the rostrum -and the front legs gradually leave their sheaths. The body is horizontal, with the -ventral surface turned upwards. Under the wide-open carapace appear the hinder legs, -the last to be released. The wings are distended with moisture. They are still rumpled -and look like stumps bent into a bow. This first phase of the transformation has taken -but ten minutes. -</p> -<p>There remains the second, which lasts longer. The whole of the insect is free, except -the tip of the abdomen, which is still contained in its scabbard. The cast skin continues -to grip the twig. Stiffening as the <span class="pageNum" id="pb44">[<a href="#pb44">44</a>]</span>result of quick desiccation, it preserves without change the attitude which it had -at the start. It forms the pivot for what is about to follow. -</p> -<p>Fixed to his slough by the tip of the abdomen, which is not yet extracted, the Cicada -turns over perpendicularly, head downwards. He is pale-green, tinged with yellow. -The wings, until now compressed into thick stumps, straighten out, unfurl, spread -under the rush of the liquid with which they are gorged. When this slow and delicate -operation is ended, the Cicada, with an almost imperceptible movement, draws himself -up by sheer strength of loin and resumes a normal position, head upwards. The fore-legs -hook on to the empty skin; and at last the tip of the belly is drawn from its sheath. -The extraction is over. The work has required half an hour altogether. -</p> -<p>Here is the whole insect, freed from its mask, but how different from what it will -be presently! The wings are heavy, moist, transparent, with their veins a light green. -The prothorax and mesothorax are barely tinged with brown. All the rest of the body -is pale-green, whitish in places. It must <span class="pageNum" id="pb45">[<a href="#pb45">45</a>]</span>bathe in air and sunshine for a long time before strength and colour can come to its -frail body. About two hours pass without producing any noticeable change. Hanging -to his cast skin by his fore-claws only, the Cicada sways at the least breath of air, -still feeble and still green. At last the brown tinge appears, becomes more marked -and is soon general. Half an hour has effected the change of colour. Slung from the -suspension-twig at nine o’clock in the morning, the Cicada flies away, before my eyes, -at half-past twelve. -</p> -<p>The cast skin remains, intact, save for its fissure, and so firmly fastened that the -rough weather of autumn does not always succeed in bringing it to the ground. For -some months yet, even during the winter, one often meets old skins hanging in the -bushes in the exact position adopted by the larva at the moment of its transformation. -Their horny nature, something like dry parchment, ensures a long existence for these -relics. -</p> -<p>Let us hark back for a moment to the gymnastic feat which enables the Cicada to leave -his scabbard. At first retained by the tip of the abdomen, which is the last part -to remain in its case, the Cicada turns over <span class="pageNum" id="pb46">[<a href="#pb46">46</a>]</span>perpendicularly, head downwards. This somersault allows him to free his wings and -legs, after the head and chest have already made their appearance by cracking the -armour under the pressure of a hernia. Now comes the time to free the end of the abdomen, -the pivot of this inverted attitude. For this purpose, the insect, with a laborious -movement of its back, draws itself up, brings its head to the top again and hooks -itself with its fore-claws to the cast skin. A fresh support is thus obtained, enabling -it to pull the tip of its abdomen from its sheath. -</p> -<p>There are therefore two means of support: first the end of the belly and then the -front claws; and there are two principal movements: in the first place the downward -somersault, in the second place the return to the normal position. These gymnastics -demand that the larva shall fix itself to a twig, head upwards, and that it shall -have a free space beneath it. Suppose that these conditions were lacking, thanks to -my wiles: what would happen? That remained to be seen. -</p> -<p>I tie a thread to the end of one of the hind-legs and hang the larva up in the peaceful -atmosphere of a test-tube. My thread <span class="pageNum" id="pb47">[<a href="#pb47">47</a>]</span>is a plumb-line which will remain vertical, for there is nothing to interfere with -it. In this unwonted posture, which places its head at the bottom at a time when the -near approach of the transformation demands that it should be at the top, the unfortunate -creature for a long time kicks about and struggles, striving to turn over and to seize -with its fore-claws either the thread by which it hangs or one of its own hind-legs. -Some of them succeed in their efforts, draw themselves up as best they can, fasten -themselves as they wish, despite the difficulty of keeping their balance, and effect -their metamorphosis without impediment. -</p> -<p>Others wear themselves out in vain. They do not catch hold of the thread, they do -not bring their heads upwards. Then the transformation is not accomplished. Sometimes -the dorsal rupture takes place, leaving bare the mesothorax swollen into a hernia, -but the shelling proceeds no farther and the insect soon dies. More often still the -larva perishes intact, without the least fissure. -</p> -<p>Another experiment. I place the larva in a glass jar with a thin bed of sand, which -makes progress possible. The animal moves along, but is not able to hoist itself up -anywhere: <span class="pageNum" id="pb48">[<a href="#pb48">48</a>]</span>the slippery sides of the glass prevent this. Under these conditions, the captive -expires without trying to transform itself. I have known exceptions to this miserable -ending; I have sometimes seen the larva undergo a regular metamorphosis on a layer -of sand thanks to peculiarities of equilibrium which were very difficult to distinguish. -In the main, when the normal attitude or something very near it is impossible, metamorphosis -does not take place and the insect succumbs. That is the general rule. -</p> -<p>This result seems to tell us that the larva is capable of opposing the forces which -are at work in it when the transformation is at hand. A cabbage-silique, a pea-pod -invariably burst to set free their seeds. The Cicada-larva, a sort of pod containing, -by way of seed, the perfect insect, is able to control its dehiscence, to defer it -until a more opportune moment and even to suppress it altogether in unfavourable circumstances. -Convulsed by the profound revolution that takes place in its body on the point of -transfiguration, but at the same time warned by instinct that the conditions are not -good, the insect makes a desperate resistance and dies rather than consent to open. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb49">[<a href="#pb49">49</a>]</span></p> -<p>Apart from the trials to which my curiosity subjects it, I do not see that the Cicada-larva -is exposed to any danger of perishing in this way. There is always a bit of brushwood -of some kind near the exit-hole. The newly-exhumed insect climbs on it; and a few -minutes are enough for the animal pod to split down the back. This swift hatching -has often been a source of trouble to me in my studies. A larva appears on the hills -not far from my house. I catch sight of it just as it is fastening on the twig. It -would form an interesting subject of observation indoors. I place it in a paper bag, -together with the stick that carries it, and hurry home. This takes me a quarter of -an hour, but it is labour lost: by the time that I arrive, the green Cicada is almost -free. I shall not see what I was bent on seeing. I had to abandon this method of obtaining -information and be content with an occasional lucky find within a few yards of my -door. -</p> -<p>“Everything is in everything,” as Jacotot the pedagogue<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1085src" href="#xd31e1085">1</a> used to say. In connection <span class="pageNum" id="pb50">[<a href="#pb50">50</a>]</span>with that remarkably quick metamorphosis a culinary question arises. According to -Aristotle, Cicadæ were a highly-appreciated dish among the Greeks. I am not acquainted -with the great naturalist’s text: humble villager that I am, my library possesses -no such treasure. I happen, however, to have before me a venerable tome which can -tell me just what I want to know. I refer to Matthiolus’ <i>Commentaries on Dioscorides</i>.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1093src" href="#xd31e1093">2</a> As an eminent scholar, who must have known his Aristotle very well, Matthiolus inspires -me with complete confidence. Now he says: -</p> -<blockquote lang="la"> -<p class="first">“<i>Mirum non est quod dixerit Aristoteles, cicadas esse gustu suavissimas antequam tettigometræ -rumpatur cortex.</i>”</p> -</blockquote><p> -</p> -<p>Knowing that <i lang="la">tettigometra</i>, or mother of the Cicada, is the expression used by the ancients to denote the larva, -we see that, according to Aristotle, the Cicadæ possess a flavour most delicious to -the taste before the bark or outer covering of the matrix bursts. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb51">[<a href="#pb51">51</a>]</span></p> -<p>This detail of the unbroken covering tells us at what season the toothsome dainty -should be picked. It cannot be in winter, when the earth is dug deep by the plough, -for at that time there is no danger of the larva’s hatching. People do not recommend -an utterly <span class="corr" id="xd31e1113" title="Source: superflous">superfluous</span> precaution. It is therefore in summer, at the period of the emergence from underground, -when a good search will discover the larvæ, one by one, on the surface of the soil. -This is the real moment to take care that the wrapper is unbroken. It is the moment -also to hasten the gathering and the preparations for cooking: in a very few minutes -the wrapper will burst. -</p> -<p>Are the ancient culinary reputation and that appetizing epithet, <i lang="la">suavissimas gustu</i>, well-deserved? We have an excellent opportunity: let us profit by it and restore -to honour, if the occasion warrant it, the dish extolled by Aristotle. Rondelet,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1121src" href="#xd31e1121">3</a> Rabelais’ erudite friend, gloried in having rediscovered <span class="pageNum" id="pb52">[<a href="#pb52">52</a>]</span><i>garum</i>, the famous sauce made from the entrails of rotten fish. Would it not be a meritorious -work to give the epicures their <i lang="la">tettigometræ</i> again? -</p> -<p>On a morning in July, when the sun is up and has invited the Cicadæ to leave the ground, -the whole household, big and little, go out searching. There are five of us engaged -in exploring the enclosure, especially the edges of paths, which yield the best results. -To prevent the skin from bursting, as each larva is found I dip it into a glass of -water. Asphyxia will stay the work of metamorphosis. After two hours of careful seeking, -when every forehead is streaming with perspiration, I am the owner of four larvæ, -no more. They are dead or dying in their preserving bath; but this does not matter, -since they are destined for the frying-pan. -</p> -<p>The method of cooking is of the simplest, so as to alter as little as possible the -flavour reputed to be so exquisite: a few drops of oil, a pinch of salt, a little -onion and that is all. There is no conciser recipe in the whole of <i lang="fr">La Cuisinière bourgeoise</i>. At dinner, the fry is divided fairly among all of us hunters. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb53">[<a href="#pb53">53</a>]</span></p> -<p>The stuff is unanimously admitted to be eatable. True, we are people blessed with -good appetites and wholly unprejudiced stomachs. There is even a slightly shrimpy -flavour which would be found in a still more pronounced form in a <i>brochette</i> of Locusts. It is, however, as tough as the devil and anything but succulent; we -really feel as if we were chewing bits of parchment. I will not recommend to anybody -the dish extolled by Aristotle. -</p> -<p>Certainly, the renowned animal-historian was remarkably well-informed as a rule. His -royal pupil sent on his behalf to India, the land at that time so full of mystery, -for the curiosities most impressive to Macedonian eyes; he received by caravan the -Elephant, the Panther, the Tiger, the Rhinoceros, the Peacock; and he described them -faithfully. But, in Macedonia itself, he knew the insect only through the peasant, -that stubborn tiller of the soil, who found the <i lang="la">tettigometra</i> under his spade and was the first to know that a Cicada comes out of it. Aristotle, -therefore, in his immense undertaking, was doing more or less what Pliny was to do -later, with a much greater amount of artless credulity. He listened to <span class="pageNum" id="pb54">[<a href="#pb54">54</a>]</span>the chit-chat of the country-side and set it down as veracious history. -</p> -<p>Rustic waggery is world-famous. The countryman is always ready to jeer at the trifles -which we call science; he laughs at whoso stops to examine an insignificant insect; -he goes into fits of laughter if he sees us picking up a pebble, looking at it and -putting it in our pocket. The Greek peasant excelled in this sort of thing. He told -the townsman that the <i lang="la">tettigometra</i> was a dish fit for the gods, of an incomparable flavour, <i lang="la">suavissima gustu</i>. But, while making his victim’s mouth water with hyperbolical praises, he put it -out of his power to satisfy his longings, by laying down the essential condition that -he must gather the delicious morsel before the shell had burst. -</p> -<p>I should like to see any one try to get together the material for a sufficiently copious -dish by gathering a few handfuls of <i lang="la">tettigometræ</i> just coming out of the earth, when my squad of five took two hours to find four larvæ -on ground rich in Cicadæ. Above all, mind that the skin does not break during your -search, which will last for days and days, whereas the bursting takes place in a few -minutes. My opinion <span class="pageNum" id="pb55">[<a href="#pb55">55</a>]</span>is that Aristotle never tasted a fry of <i lang="la">tettigometræ</i>; and my own culinary experience is my witness. He is repeating some rustic jest in -all good faith. His heavenly dish is too horrible for words. -</p> -<p>Oh, what a fine collection of stories I too could make about the Cicada, if I listened -to all that my neighbours the peasants tell me! I will give one particular of his -history and one alone, as related in the country. -</p> -<p>Have you any renal infirmity? Are you dropsical at all? Do you need a powerful depurative? -The village pharmacopœia is unanimous in suggesting the Cicada as a sovran remedy. -The insects are collected in summer, in their adult form. They are strung together -and dried in the sun and are fondly preserved in a corner of the press. A housewife -would think herself lacking in prudence if she allowed July to pass without threading -her store of them. -</p> -<p>Do you suffer from irritation of the kidneys, or perhaps from stricture? Quick, have -some Cicada-tea! Nothing, they tell me, is so efficacious. I am duly grateful to the -good soul who once, as I have since heard, made me drink a concoction of the sort, -without my knowing it, for some <span class="pageNum" id="pb56">[<a href="#pb56">56</a>]</span>trouble or other; but I remain profoundly incredulous. I am struck, however, by the -fact that the same specific was recommended long ago by Dioscorides. The old Cilician -doctor tells us: -</p> -<blockquote> -<p class="first">“<i lang="la">Cicadæ, quæ inassatæ manduntur, vesicæ doloribus prosunt.</i>”<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1185src" href="#xd31e1185">4</a></p> -</blockquote><p> -</p> -<p>Ever since the far-off days of this patriarch of <i lang="la">materia medica</i>, the Provençal peasant has retained his faith in the remedy revealed to him by the -Greeks who brought the olive, the fig-tree and the vine from Phocæa. One thing alone -is changed: Dioscorides advises us to eat our Cicadæ roasted; nowadays they are boiled -and taken as an infusion. -</p> -<p>The explanation given of the insect’s diuretic properties is wonderfully ingenuous. -The Cicada, as all of us here know, shoots a sudden spray of urine, as it flies away, -in the face of any one who tries to take hold of it. He is therefore bound to hand -on his powers of evacuation to us. Thus must Dioscorides and his contemporaries have -<span class="pageNum" id="pb57">[<a href="#pb57">57</a>]</span>argued; and thus does the peasant of Provence argue to this day. -</p> -<p>O my worthy friends, what would you say if you knew the virtues of the <i lang="la">tettigometra</i>, which is capable of mixing mortar with its urine to build a meteorological station -withal! You would be driven to borrow the hyperbole of Rabelais, who shows us Gargantua -seated on the towers of Notre-Dame and drowning with the deluge from his mighty bladder -so many thousand Paris loafers, not to mention the women and children! -<span class="pageNum" id="pb58">[<a href="#pb58">58</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e1085"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1085src">1</a></span> Joseph Jacotot (1770–1840), a famous French educator, whose methods aroused a great -deal of discussion. He propounded other more or less paradoxical maxims, such as, -“All men have an equal intelligence,” “A man can teach what he does not know,” and -so on.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1085src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1093"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1093src">2</a></span> Pietro Andrea Mattioli (1500–1577), known as Matthiolus, a physician and naturalist -who practised at Siena and Rome. His <i>Commentaries on Dioscorides</i> were published in Italian, at Venice, in 1544 and in Latin in 1554.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1093src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1121"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1121src">3</a></span> Guillaume Rondelet (1507–1566), a physician and naturalist, author of various works -on medicine and of an <i lang="la">Universa piscium historia</i> (Lyons, 1554) which earned him the title of father of ichthyology. Rabelais introduces -him into his <i>Pantagruel</i> by the name of Rondibilis.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1121src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1185"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1185src">4</a></span> “Cicadæ eaten roasted are good for pains in the bladder.” <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1185src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch4" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e231">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER IV</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE CICADA: HIS MUSIC</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">By his own confession, Réaumur never heard the Cicada sing; he never saw the insect -alive. It reached him from the country round Avignon preserved in spirits and a goodly -supply of sugar. These conditions were enough to enable the anatomist to give an exact -description of the organ of sound; nor did the master fail to do so: his penetrating -eye clearly discerned the construction of the strange musical-box, so much so that -his treatise upon it has become the fountain-head for any one who wants to say a few -words about the Cicada’s song. -</p> -<p>With him the harvest was gathered; it but remains to glean a few ears which the disciple -hopes to make into a sheaf. I have more than enough of what Réaumur lacked: I hear -rather more of these deafening symphonists than I could wish; and so I shall perhaps -obtain a little fresh light on a subject <span class="pageNum" id="pb59">[<a href="#pb59">59</a>]</span>that seems exhausted. Let us therefore go back to the question of the Cicada’s song, -repeating only so much of the data acquired as may be necessary to make my explanation -clear. -</p> -<p>In my neighbourhood I can capture five species of Cicadæ, namely, <i lang="la">Cicada plebeia</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>; <i lang="la">C. orni</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>; <i lang="la">C. hematodes</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>; <i lang="la">C. atra</i>, <span class="sc">Oliv.</span>; and <i lang="la">C. pygmæa</i>, <span class="sc">Oliv.</span> The first two are extremely common; the three others are rarities, almost unknown -to the country-folk. -</p> -<p>The Common Cicada is the biggest of the five, the most popular and the one whose musical -apparatus is usually described. Under the male’s chest, immediately behind the hind-legs, -are two large semicircular plates, overlapping each other slightly, the right plate -being on the top of the left. These are the shutters, the lids, the dampers, in short -the <i>opercula</i> of the organ of sound. Lift them up. You then see opening, on either side, a roomy -cavity, known in Provence by the name of the chapel (<i lang="fr">li capello</i>). The two together form the church (<i lang="fr">la glèiso</i>). They are bounded in front by a soft, thin, creamy-yellow membrane; at the back -by a dry pellicle, iridescent as a soap-bubble <span class="pageNum" id="pb60">[<a href="#pb60">60</a>]</span>and called the mirror (<i lang="fr">mirau</i>) in the Provençal tongue. -</p> -<p>The church, the mirrors and the lids are commonly regarded as the sound-producing -organs. Of a singer short of breath it is said that he has cracked his mirrors (<i lang="fr">a li mirau creba</i>). Picturesque language says the same thing of an uninspired poet. Acoustics give -the lie to the popular belief. You can break the mirrors, remove the lids with a cut -of the scissors, tear the yellow front membrane and these mutilations will not do -away with the Cicada’s song: they simply modify it, weaken it slightly. The chapels -are resonators. They do not produce sound, they increase it by the vibrations of their -front and back membranes; they change it as their shutters are opened more or less -wide. -</p> -<p>The real organ of sound is seated elsewhere and is not easy to find, for a novice. -On the other side of each chapel, at the ridge joining the belly to the back, is a -slit bounded by horny walls and masked by the lowered lid. Let us call it the window. -This opening leads to a cavity or sound-chamber deeper than the adjacent chapel, but -much less wide. Immediately behind the attachment of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb61">[<a href="#pb61">61</a>]</span>rear wings is a slight, almost oval protuberance, which is distinguished by its dull-black -colour from the silvery down of the surrounding skin. This protuberance is the outer -wall of the sound-chamber. -</p> -<p>Let us make a large cut in it. We now lay bare the sound-producing apparatus, the -cymbal. This is a little dry, white membrane, oval-shaped, convex on the outside, -crossed from end to end of its longer diameter by a bundle of three or four brown -nervures, which give it elasticity, and fixed all round in a stiff frame. Imagine -this bulging scale to be pulled out of shape from within, flattening slightly and -then quickly recovering its original convexity owing to the spring of its nervures. -The drawing in and blowing out will produce a clicking sound. -</p> -<p>Twenty years ago, all Paris went mad over a silly toy called the Cricket, or <i>Cri-cri</i>, if I remember rightly. It consisted of a short blade of steel, fastened at one end -to a metallic base. Alternately pressed out of shape with the thumb and then released, -the said blade, though possessing no other merit, gave out a very irritating click; -and nothing more was needed to make it popular. The <span class="pageNum" id="pb62">[<a href="#pb62">62</a>]</span>Cricket’s vogue is over. Oblivion has done justice to it so drastically that I doubt -if I shall be understood when I recall the once famous apparatus. -</p> -<p>The membranous cymbal and steel Cricket are similar instruments. Both are made to -rattle by pushing an elastic blade out of shape and restoring it to its original condition. -The Cricket was bent out of shape with the thumb. How is the convexity of the cymbals -modified? Let us go back to the church and break the yellow curtain that marks the -boundary of each chapel in front. Two thick muscular columns come in sight, of a pale -orange colour, joined together in the form of a V, with its point standing on the -insect’s median line, on the lower surface. Each of these fleshy columns ends abruptly -at the top, as though lopped off; and from the truncated stump rises a short, slender -cord which is fastened to the side of the corresponding cymbal. -</p> -<p>There you have the whole mechanism, which is no less simple than that of the metal -Cricket. The two muscular columns contract and relax, shorten and lengthen. By means -of the terminal thread each tugs at its cymbal, pulling it down and forthwith letting -<span class="pageNum" id="pb63">[<a href="#pb63">63</a>]</span>it spring back of itself. Thus are the two sound-plates made to vibrate. -</p> -<p>Would you convince yourself of the efficacy of this mechanism? Would you make a dead -but still fresh Cicada sing? Nothing could be simpler. Seize one of the muscular columns -with the pincers and jerk it gently. The dead <i>Cri-cri</i> comes to life again; each jerk produces the clash of the cymbal. The sound is very -feeble, I admit, deprived of the fulness which the living virtuoso obtains with the -aid of his sound-chambers; nevertheless the fundamental element of the song is produced -by this anatomical trick. -</p> -<p>Would you on the other hand silence a live Cicada, that obstinate melomaniac who, -when you hold him prisoner in your fingers, bewails his sad lot as garrulously as, -just now, he sang his joys in the tree? It is no use to break open his chapels, to -crack his mirrors: the shameful mutilation would not check him. But insert a pin through -the side slit which we have called the window and touch the cymbal at the bottom of -the sound-chamber. A tiny prick; and the perforated cymbal is silent. A similar operation -on the other side renders the insect mute, though it remains as vigorous as before, -showing <span class="pageNum" id="pb64">[<a href="#pb64">64</a>]</span>no perceptible wound. Any one unacquainted with the method of procedure stands amazed -at the result of my pin-prick, when the utter destruction of the mirrors and the other -accessories of the church does not produce silence. A tiny and in no way serious stab -has an effect which is not caused even by evisceration. -</p> -<p>The lids, those firmly fitted plates, are stationary. It is the abdomen itself which, -by rising and falling, causes the church to open and shut. When the abdomen is lowered, -the lids cover the chapels exactly, together with the windows of the sound-chambers. -The sound is then weakened, muffled, stifled. When the abdomen rises, the chapels -open, the windows are unobstructed and the sound acquires its full strength. The rapid -oscillations of the belly, therefore, synchronizing with the contractions of the motor-muscles -of the cymbals, determine the varying volume of the sound, which seems to come from -hurried strokes of a bow. -</p> -<p>When the weather is calm and warm, about the middle of the day, the Cicada’s song -is divided into strophes of a few seconds’ duration, separated by short pauses. <span class="pageNum" id="pb65">[<a href="#pb65">65</a>]</span>The strophe begins abruptly. In a rapid crescendo, the abdomen oscillating faster -and faster, it acquires its maximum volume; it keeps up the same degree of strength -for a few seconds and then becomes gradually weaker and degenerates into a tremolo -which decreases as the belly relapses into rest. With the last pulsations of the abdomen -comes silence, which lasts for a longer or shorter time according to the condition -of the atmosphere. Then suddenly we hear a new strophe, a monotonous repetition of -the first; and so on indefinitely. -</p> -<p>It often happens, especially during the sultry evening hours, that the insect, drunk -with sunshine, shortens and even entirely suppresses the pauses. The song is then -continuous, but always with alternations of <i>crescendo</i> and <i>decrescendo</i>. The first strokes of the bow are given at about seven or eight o’clock in the morning; -and the orchestra ceases only with the dying gleams of the twilight, at about eight -o’clock in the evening. Altogether the concert lasts the whole round of the clock. -But, if the sky be overcast, if the wind blow cold, the Cicada is dumb. -</p> -<p>The second species is only half the size <span class="pageNum" id="pb66">[<a href="#pb66">66</a>]</span>of the Common Cicada and is known in the district by the name of the <i>Cacan</i>, a fairly accurate imitation of his peculiar rattle. This is the Ash Cicada of the -naturalists; and he is far more alert and more suspicious than the first. His harsh -loud song consists of a series of <i>Can! Can! Can! Can!</i> with not a pause to divide the ode into strophes. Its monotony and its harsh shrillness -make it a most unpleasant ditty, especially when the orchestra is composed of some -hundreds of executants, as happens in my two plane-trees during the dog-days. At such -times it is as though a heap of dry walnuts were being shaken in a bag until the shells -cracked. This irritating concert, a veritable torment, has only one slight advantage -about it: the Ash Cicada does not start quite so early in the morning as the Common -Cicada and does not sit up so late at night. -</p> -<p>Although constructed on the same fundamental principles, the vocal apparatus displays -numerous peculiarities which give the song its special character. The sound-chamber -is entirely lacking, which means that there is no entrance-window either. The cymbal -is uncovered, just behind the insertion of the hind-wing. It again is a dry, white -<span class="pageNum" id="pb67">[<a href="#pb67">67</a>]</span>scale, convex on the outside and crossed by a bundle of five red-brown nervures. -</p> -<p>The first segment of the abdomen thrusts forward a short, wide tongue, which is quite -rigid and of which the free end rests on the cymbal. This tongue may be compared with -the blade of a rattle which, instead of fitting into the teeth of a revolving wheel, -touches the nervures of the vibrating cymbal more or less closely. The harsh, grating -sound must, I think, be partly due to this. It is hardly possible to verify the fact -when holding the creature in our fingers: the startled <i>Cacan</i> does anything at such times rather than emit his normal song. -</p> -<p>The lids do not overlap; on the contrary, they are separated by a rather wide interval. -With the rigid tongues, those appendages of the abdomen, they shelter one half of -the cymbals, the other half of which is quite bare. The abdomen, when pressed with -the finger, does not open to any great extent where it joins the thorax. For the rest, -the insect keeps still when it sings; it knows nothing of the rapid quivering of the -belly that modulates the song of the Common Cicada. The chapels are very small and -almost negligible as sounding-boards. There <span class="pageNum" id="pb68">[<a href="#pb68">68</a>]</span>are mirrors, it is true, but insignificant ones, measuring scarcely a twenty-fifth -of an inch. In short, the mechanism of sound, which is so highly developed in the -Common Cicada, is very rudimentary here. How then does the thin clash of the cymbals -manage to gain in volume until it becomes intolerable? -</p> -<p>The Ash Cicada is a ventriloquist. If we examine the abdomen by holding it up to the -light, we see that the front two thirds are translucent. Let us snip off the opaque -third part that retains, reduced to the strictly indispensable, the organs essential -to the propagation of the species and the preservation of the individual. The rest -of the belly is wide open and presents a spacious cavity, with nothing but its tegumentary -walls, except in the case of the dorsal surface, which is lined with a thin layer -of muscle and serves as a support to the slender digestive tube, which is little more -than a thread. The large receptacle, forming nearly half of the insect’s total bulk, -is therefore empty, or nearly so. At the back are seen the two motor pillars of the -cymbals, the two muscular columns arranged in a V. To the right and left of the point -of this V gleam the two tiny mirrors; and the empty space is <span class="pageNum" id="pb69">[<a href="#pb69">69</a>]</span>continued between the two branches into the depths of the thorax. -</p> -<p>This hollow belly and its thoracic complement form an enormous resonator, unapproached -by that of any other performer in our district. If I close with my finger the orifice -in the abdomen which I have just clipped, the sound becomes lower, in conformity with -the laws affecting organ-pipes; if I fit a cylinder, a screw of paper, to the mouth -of the open belly, the sound becomes louder as well as deeper. With a paper funnel -properly adjusted, its wide end thrust into the mouth of a test-tube acting as a sounding-board, -we have no longer the shrilling of the Cicada but something very near the bellowing -of a Bull. My small children, happening to be there at the moment when I am making -my acoustic experiments, run away scared. The familiar insect inspires them with terror. -</p> -<p>The harshness of the sound appears to be due to the tongue of the rattle rasping the -nervures of the vibrating cymbals; its intensity may no doubt be ascribed to the spacious -sounding-board of the belly. Assuredly one must be passionately enamoured of song -thus to empty one’s belly and chest in order <span class="pageNum" id="pb70">[<a href="#pb70">70</a>]</span>to make room for a musical-box. The essential vital organs are reduced to the minimum, -are confined to a tiny corner, so as to leave a greater space for the sounding-cavity. -Song comes first; all the rest takes second place. -</p> -<p>It is a good thing that the Ash Cicada does not follow the teaching of the evolutionists. -If, becoming more enthusiastic from generation to generation, he were able by progressive -stages to acquire a ventral sounding-board fit to compare with that which my paper -screws give him, my Provence, peopled as it is with <i>Cacans</i>, would one day become uninhabitable. -</p> -<p>After the details which I have already given concerning the Common Cicada, it seems -hardly necessary to say how the insupportable chatterbox of the Ash is rendered dumb. -The cymbals are clearly visible on the outside. You prick them with the point of a -needle. Complete silence follows instantly. Why are there not in my plane-trees, among -the dagger-wearing insects, auxiliaries who, like myself, love quiet and who would -devote themselves to that task! A mad wish! A note would then be lacking in the majestic -harvest symphony. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb71">[<a href="#pb71">71</a>]</span></p> -<p>The Red Cicada (<i lang="la">C. hematodes</i>) is a little smaller than the Common Cicada. He owes his name to the blood-red colour -that takes the place of the other’s brown on the veins of the wings and some other -lineaments of the body. He is rare. I come upon him occasionally in the hawthorn-bushes. -As regards his musical apparatus, he stands half-way between the Common Cicada and -the Ash Cicada. He has the former’s oscillation of the belly, which increases or reduces -the strength of the sound by opening or closing the church; he possesses the latter’s -exposed cymbals, unaccompanied by any sound-chamber or window. -</p> -<p>The cymbals therefore are bare, immediately after the attachment of the hind-wings. -They are white, fairly regular in their convexity and boast eight long, parallel nervures -of a ruddy brown and seven others which are much shorter and which are inserted singly -in the intervals between the first. The lids are small and scolloped at their inner -edge so as to cover only half of the corresponding chapel. The opening left by the -hollow in the lid has as a shutter a little pallet fixed to the base of the hind-leg, -which, by folding itself against the body or lifting slightly, <span class="pageNum" id="pb72">[<a href="#pb72">72</a>]</span>keeps the aperture either shut or open. The other Cicadæ have each a similar appendage, -but in their case it is narrower and more pointed. -</p> -<p>Moreover, as with the Common Cicada, the belly moves freely up and down. This heaving -movement, combined with the play of the femoral pallets, opens and closes the chapels -to varying extents. -</p> -<p>The mirrors, though not so large as the Common Cicada’s, have the same appearance. -The membrane that faces them on the thorax side is white, oval and very delicate and -is tight-stretched when the abdomen is raised and flabby and wrinkled when the abdomen -is lowered. In its tense state it seems capable of vibration and of increasing the -sound. -</p> -<p>The song, modulated and subdivided into strophes, suggests that of the Common Cicada, -but is much less objectionable. Its lack of shrillness may well be due to the absence -of any sound-chambers. Other things being equal, cymbals vibrating uncovered cannot -possess the same intensity of sound as those vibrating at the far end of an echoing -vestibule. The noisy Ash Cicada also, it is true, lacks that vestibule; but he <span class="pageNum" id="pb73">[<a href="#pb73">73</a>]</span>amply makes up for its absence by the enormous resonator of his belly. -</p> -<p>I have never seen the third Cicada, sketched by Réaumur and described by Olivier<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1356src" href="#xd31e1356">1</a> under the name of <i lang="la">C. tomentosa</i>. The species is known in Provence, so this and that one tells me, by the name of -the <i>Cigalon</i>, or rather <i>Cigaloun</i>, the Little Cigale or Cicada. This designation is unknown in my neighbourhood. -</p> -<p>I possess two other specimens which Réaumur probably confused with the one of which -he gives us a drawing. One is the Black Cicada (<i lang="la">C. atra</i>, <span class="sc">Oliv.</span>), whom I came across only once; the other is the Pigmy Cicada (<i lang="la">C. pygmæa</i>, <span class="sc">Oliv.</span>), whom I have picked up pretty often. I will say a few words about this last one. -</p> -<p>He is the smallest member of the genus in my district, the size of an average Gad-fly, -and measures about three-quarters of an inch in length. His cymbals are transparent, -with three opaque veins, are scarcely sheltered by <span class="pageNum" id="pb74">[<a href="#pb74">74</a>]</span>a fold in the skin and are in full view, without any sort of entrance-lobby or sound-chamber. -I may remark, in terminating our survey, that the entrance-lobby exists only in the -Common Cicada; all the others are without it. -</p> -<p>The dampers are separated by a wide interval and allow the chapels to open wide. The -mirrors are comparatively large. Their shape suggests the outline of a kidney-bean. -The abdomen does not heave when the insect sings; it remains stationary, like the -Ash Cicada’s. Hence a lack of variety in the melody of both. -</p> -<p>The Pigmy Cicada’s song is a monotonous rattle, pitched in a shrill key, but faint -and hardly perceptible a few steps away in the calm of our enervating July afternoons. -If ever a fancy seized him to forsake his sun-scorched bushes and to come and settle -down in force in my cool plane-trees—and I wish that he would, for I should much like -to study him more closely—this pretty little Cicada would not disturb my solitude -as the frenzied <i>Cacan</i> does. -</p> -<p>We have now ploughed our way through the descriptive part; we know the instrument -of sound so far as its structure is concerned. <span class="pageNum" id="pb75">[<a href="#pb75">75</a>]</span>In conclusion, let us ask ourselves the object of these musical orgies. What is the -use of all this noise? One reply is bound to come: it is the call of the males summoning -their mates; it is the lovers’ cantata. -</p> -<p>I will allow myself to discuss this answer, which is certainly a very natural one. -For fifteen years the Common Cicada and his shrill associate, the <i>Cacan</i>, have thrust their society upon me. Every summer for two months I have them before -my eyes, I have them in my ears. Though I may not listen to them gladly, I observe -them with a certain zeal. I see them ranged in rows on the smooth bark of the plane-trees, -all with their heads upwards, both sexes interspersed with a few inches between them. -</p> -<p>With their suckers driven into the tree, they drink, motionless. As the sun turns -and moves the shadow, they also turn around the branch with slow lateral steps and -make for the best-lighted and hottest surface. Whether they be working their suckers -or moving their quarters, they never cease singing. -</p> -<p>Are we to take the endless cantilena for a passionate call? I am not sure. In the -assembly the two sexes are side by side; and <span class="pageNum" id="pb76">[<a href="#pb76">76</a>]</span>you do not spend months on end in calling to some one who is at your elbow. Then again, -I never see a female come rushing into the midst of the very noisiest orchestra. Sight -is enough as a prelude to marriage here, for it is excellent; the wooer has no use -for an everlasting declaration: the wooed is his next-door neighbour. -</p> -<p>Could it be a means then of charming, of touching the indifferent one? I still have -my doubts. I notice no signs of satisfaction in the females; I do not see them give -the least flutter nor sway from side to side, though the lovers clash their cymbals -never so loudly. -</p> -<p>My neighbours the peasants say that, at harvest-time, the Cicada sings, “<i>Sego, sego, sego!</i> Reap, reap, reap!” to encourage them to work. Whether harvesters of wheat or harvesters -of thought, we follow the same occupation, one for the bread of the stomach, the other -for the bread of the mind. I can understand their explanation, therefore; and I accept -it as an instance of charming simplicity. -</p> -<p>Science asks for something better; but she finds in the insect a world that is closed -to us. There is no possibility of divining or even <span class="pageNum" id="pb77">[<a href="#pb77">77</a>]</span>suspecting the impression produced by the clash of the cymbals upon those who inspire -it. All that I can say is that their impassive exterior seems to denote complete indifference. -Let us not insist too much: the private feelings of animals are an unfathomable mystery. -</p> -<p>Another reason for doubt is this: those who are sensitive to music always have delicate -hearing; and this hearing, a watchful sentinel, should give warning of any danger -at the least sound. The birds, those skilled songsters, have an exquisitely fine sense -of hearing. Should a leaf stir in the branches, should two wayfarers exchange a word, -they will be suddenly silent, anxious, on their guard. How far the Cicada is from -such sensibility! -</p> -<p>He has very clear sight. His large faceted eyes inform him of what happens on the -right and what happens on the left; his three stemmata, like little ruby telescopes, -explore the expanse above his head. The moment he sees us coming, he is silent and -flies away. But place yourself behind the branch on which he is singing, arrange so -that you are not within reach of the five visual organs; and then talk, whistle, clap -<span class="pageNum" id="pb78">[<a href="#pb78">78</a>]</span>your hands, knock two stones together. For much less than this, a bird, though it -would not see you, would interrupt its singing and fly away terrified. The imperturbable -Cicada goes on rattling as though nothing were afoot. -</p> -<p>Of my experiments in this matter, I will mention only one, the most memorable. I borrow -the municipal artillery, that is to say, the mortars which are made to thunder forth -on the feast of the patron-saint. The gunner is delighted to load them for the benefit -of the Cicadæ and to come and fire them off at my place. There are two of them, crammed -as though for the most solemn rejoicings. No politician making the circuit of his -constituency in search of re-election was ever honoured with so much powder. We are -careful to leave the windows open, to save the panes from breaking. The two thundering -engines are set at the foot of the plane-trees in front of my door. No precautions -are taken to mask them: the Cicadæ singing in the branches overhead cannot see what -is happening below. -</p> -<p>We are an audience of six. We wait for a moment of comparative quiet. The number <span class="pageNum" id="pb79">[<a href="#pb79">79</a>]</span>of singers is checked by each of us, as are the depth and rhythm of the song. We are -now ready, with ears pricked up to hear what will happen in the aerial orchestra. -The mortar is let off, with a noise like a genuine thunder-clap. -</p> -<p>There is no excitement whatever up above. The number of executants is the same, the -rhythm is the same, the volume of sound the same. The six witnesses are unanimous: -the mighty explosion has in no way affected the song of the Cicadæ. And the second -mortar gives an exactly similar result. -</p> -<p>What conclusion are we to draw from this persistence of the orchestra, which is not -at all surprised or put out by the firing of a gun? Am I to infer from it that the -Cicada is deaf? I will certainly not venture so far as that; but, if any one else, -more daring than I, were to make the assertion, I should really not know what arguments -to employ in contradicting him. I should be obliged at least to concede that the Cicada -is extremely hard of hearing and that we may apply to him the familiar saying, to -bawl like a deaf man. -</p> -<p>When the Blue-winged Locust takes his luxurious fill of sunshine on a gravelly path -<span class="pageNum" id="pb80">[<a href="#pb80">80</a>]</span>and with his great hind-shanks rubs the rough edge of his wing-cases; when the Green -Tree-frog, suffering from as chronic a cold as the <i>Cacan</i>, swells his throat among the leaves and distends it into a resounding bladder at -the approach of a storm, are they both calling to their absent mates? By no means. -The bow-strokes of the first produce hardly a perceptible stridulation; the throaty -exuberance of the second is no more effective: the object of their desire does not -come. -</p> -<p>Does the insect need these sonorous outbursts, these loquacious avowals, to declare -its flame? Consult the vast majority, whom the meeting of the two sexes leaves silent. -I see in the Grasshopper’s fiddle, the Tree-frog’s bagpipes and the cymbals of the -<i>Cacan</i> but so many methods of expressing the joy of living, the universal joy which every -animal species celebrates after its kind. -</p> -<p>If any one were to tell me that the Cicadæ strum on their noisy instruments without -giving a thought to the sound produced and for the sheer pleasure of feeling themselves -alive, just as we rub our hands in a moment of satisfaction, I should not be greatly -<span class="pageNum" id="pb81">[<a href="#pb81">81</a>]</span>shocked. That there may be also a secondary object in their concert, an object in -which the dumb sex is interested, is quite possible, quite natural, though this has -not yet been proved. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb82">[<a href="#pb82">82</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e1356"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1356src">1</a></span> Guillaume Antoine Olivier (1756–1814), a distinguished French entomologist, author -of an <i lang="fr">Histoire naturelle des coléoptères</i>, in six volumes (1789–1808), and part author of the nine volumes devoted to a <i lang="fr">Dictionnaire de l’histoire naturelle des insectes</i> in the <i lang="fr">Encyclopédie méthodique</i> (1789–1819).—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1356src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch5" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e241">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER V</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE CICADA: THE LAYING AND THE HATCHING OF THE EGGS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The Common Cicada entrusts her eggs to small dry branches. All those which Réaumur -examined and found to be thus tenanted were derived from the mulberry-tree: a proof -that the person commissioned to collect these eggs in the Avignon district was very -conservative in his methods of search. In addition to the mulberry-tree, I, on the -other hand, find them on the peach, the cherry, the willow, the Japanese privet and -other trees. But these are exceptions. The Cicada really favours something different. -She wants, as far as possible, tiny stalks, which may be anything from the thickness -of a straw to that of a lead-pencil, with a thin ring of wood and plenty of pith. -So long as these conditions are fulfilled, the actual plant matters little. I should -have to draw up a list of all the semiligneous flora <span class="pageNum" id="pb83">[<a href="#pb83">83</a>]</span>of the district were I to try and catalogue the different supports used by the Cicada -when laying her eggs. I shall content myself with naming a few of them in a note, -to show the variety of sites of which she avails herself.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1459src" href="#xd31e1459">1</a> -</p> -<p>The sprig occupied is never lying on the ground; it is in a position more or less -akin to the perpendicular, most often in its natural place, sometimes detached, but -in that case sticking upright by accident. Preference is given to a good long stretch -of smooth, even stalk, capable of accommodating the entire laying. My best harvests -are made on the sprigs of <i lang="la">Spartium junceum</i>, which are like straws crammed with pith, and especially on the tall stalks of <i lang="la">Asphodelus cerasiferus</i>, which rise for nearly three feet before spreading into branches. -</p> -<p>The rule is for the support, no matter what it is, to be dead and quite dry. Nevertheless -my notes record a few instances of <span class="pageNum" id="pb84">[<a href="#pb84">84</a>]</span>eggs confided to stalks that are still alive, with green leaves and flowers in bloom. -It is true that, in these highly exceptional cases, the stalk itself is of a pretty -dry variety.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1500src" href="#xd31e1500">2</a> -</p> -<p>The work performed by the Cicada consists of a series of pricks such as might be made -with a pin if it were driven downwards on a slant and made to tear the ligneous fibres -and force them up slightly. Any one seeing these dots without knowing what produced -them would think first of some cryptogamous vegetation, some Sphæriacea swelling and -bursting its skin under the growth of its half-emerging perithecia. -</p> -<p>If the stalk be uneven, or if several Cicadæ have been working one after the other -at the same spot, the distribution of the punctures becomes confused and the eye is -apt to wander among them, unable to perceive either the order in which they were made -or the work of each individual. One characteristic is never missing, that is the slanting -direction of the woody strip ploughed up, which shows that the Cicada always works -in an upright position and drives her implement <span class="pageNum" id="pb85">[<a href="#pb85">85</a>]</span>downwards into the twig, in a longitudinal direction. -</p> -<p>If the stalk be smooth and even and also of a suitable length, the punctures are nearly -equidistant and are not far from being in a straight line. Their number varies: it -is small when the mother is disturbed in her operation and goes off to continue her -laying elsewhere; it amounts to thirty or forty when the line of dots represents the -total amount of eggs laid. The actual length of the row for the same number of thrusts -likewise varies. A few examples will enlighten us in this respect: a row of thirty -measures 28 centimetres<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1516src" href="#xd31e1516">3</a> on the toad-flax, 30<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1520src" href="#xd31e1520">4</a> on the gum-succory and only 12<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1524src" href="#xd31e1524">5</a> on the asphodel. -</p> -<p>Do not imagine that these variations in length have to do with the nature of the support: -there are plenty of instances that prove the contrary; and the asphodel, which in -one case shows us the punctures that are closest together, will in other cases show -us those which are farthest removed. The distance between the dots depends on circumstances -which cannot be explained, but <span class="pageNum" id="pb86">[<a href="#pb86">86</a>]</span>especially on the caprice of the mother, who concentrates her laying more at one spot -and less at another according to her fancy. I have found the average measurement between -one hole and the next to be 8 to 10 millimetres.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1532src" href="#xd31e1532">6</a> -</p> -<p>Each of these abrasions is the entrance to a slanting cell, usually bored in the pithy -portion of the stalk. This entrance is not closed, save by the bunch of ligneous fibres -which are parted at the time of the laying but which come together again when the -double saw of the ovipositor is withdrawn. At most, in certain cases, but not always, -you see gleaming through the threads of this barricade a tiny glistening speck, looking -like a glaze of dried albumen. This can be only an insignificant trace of some albuminous -secretion which accompanies the eggs or else facilitates the play of the double boring-file. -</p> -<p>Just under the prick lies the cell, a very narrow passage which occupies almost the -entire distance between its pin-hole and that of the preceding cell. Sometimes even -there is no partition separating the two; the upper floor runs into the lower; and -the eggs, though inserted through several entrances, <span class="pageNum" id="pb87">[<a href="#pb87">87</a>]</span>are arranged in an uninterrupted row. Usually, however, the cells are distinct. -</p> -<p>Their contents vary greatly. I count from six to fifteen eggs in each. The average -is ten. As the number of cells of a complete laying is between thirty and forty, we -see that the Cicada disposes of three to four hundred eggs. Réaumur arrived at the -same figures from his examination of the ovaries. -</p> -<p>A fine family truly, capable by sheer numbers of coping with very grave risks of destruction. -Yet I do not see that the adult Cicada is in greater danger than any other insect: -he has a vigilant eye, can get started quickly, is a rapid flyer and inhabits heights -at which the cut-throats of the meadows are not to be feared. The Sparrow, it is true, -is very fond of him. From time to time, after careful strategy, the enemy swoops upon -the plane-trees from the neighbouring roof and grabs the frenzied fiddler. A few pecks -distributed right and left cut him up into quarters, which form delicious morsels -for the nestlings. But how often does not the bird return with an empty bag! The wary -Cicada sees the attack coming, empties his bladder into his assailant’s eyes and decamps. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb88">[<a href="#pb88">88</a>]</span></p> -<p>No, it is not the Sparrow that makes it necessary for the Cicada to give birth to -so numerous a progeny. The danger lies elsewhere. We shall see how terrible it can -be at hatching- and also at laying-time. -</p> -<p>Two or three weeks after the emergence from the ground, that is to say, about the -middle of July, the Cicada busies herself with her eggs. In order to witness the laying -without trusting too much to luck, I had taken certain precautions which seemed to -me to assure success. The insect’s favourite support is the dry asphodel: I had learnt -that from earlier observations. This plant is also the one that lends itself best -to my plans, owing to its long, smooth stalk. Now, during the first years of my residence -here, I replaced the thistles in my enclosure by other native plants, of a less forbidding -character. The asphodel is among the new occupants and is just what I want to-day. -I therefore leave last year’s dry stalks where they are; and, when the proper season -comes, I inspect them daily. -</p> -<p>I have not long to wait. As early as the 15th of July, I find as many Cicadæ as I -could wish installed on the asphodels, busily laying. The mother is always alone. -Each <span class="pageNum" id="pb89">[<a href="#pb89">89</a>]</span>has a stalk to herself, without fear of any competition that might disturb the delicate -process of inoculation. When the first occupant is gone, another may come, followed -by others yet. There is ample room for all; but each in succession wishes to be alone. -For the rest, there is no quarrelling among them; things happen most peacefully. If -some mother appears and finds the place already taken, she flies away so soon as she -discovers her mistake and looks around elsewhere. -</p> -<p>The Cicada, when laying, always carries her head upwards, an attitude which, for that -matter, she adopts in other circumstances. She lets you examine her quite closely, -even under the magnifying-glass, so greatly absorbed is she in her task. The ovipositor, -which is about two-fifths of an inch long, is buried in the stalk, slantwise. So perfect -is the tool that the boring does not seem to call for very laborious operations. I -see the mother give a jerk or two and dilate and contract the tip of her abdomen with -frequent palpitations. That is all. The drill with its double gimlets working alternately -digs and disappears into the wood, with a gentle and almost imperceptible movement. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb90">[<a href="#pb90">90</a>]</span>Nothing particular happens during the laying. The insect is motionless. Ten minutes -or so elapse between the first bite of the tool and the complete filling of the cell. -</p> -<p>The ovipositor is then withdrawn with deliberate slowness, so as not to warp it. The -boring-hole closes of itself, as the ligneous fibres come together again, and the -insect climbs a little higher, about as far as the length of its instrument, in a -straight line. Here we see a new punch of the gimlet and a new chamber receiving its -half-a-score of eggs. In this fashion the laying works its way up from bottom to top. -</p> -<p>Once we know these facts, we are in a position to understand the remarkable arrangement -controlling the work. The punctures, the entrances to the cells, are almost equidistant, -because each time the Cicada ascends about the same height, roughly the length of -her ovipositor. Very rapid in flight, she is a very lazy walker. All that you ever -see her do on the live branch on which she drinks is to move to a sunnier spot close -by, with a grave and almost solemn step. On the dead branch where the eggs are laid -she retains her leisurely habits, even exaggerating them, in view of the importance -of <span class="pageNum" id="pb91">[<a href="#pb91">91</a>]</span>the operation. She moves as little as need be, shifting her place only just enough -to avoid letting two adjoining cells encroach upon each other. The measure of the -upward movement is provided approximately by the length of the bore. -</p> -<p>Also the holes are arranged in a straight line when their number is not great. Why -indeed should the laying mother veer to the left or right on a stalk which has the -same qualities all over? Loving the sun, she has selected the side of the stalk that -is most exposed to it. So long as she feels on her back a douche of heat, her supreme -joy, she will take good care not to leave the situation which she considers so delightful -for another upon which the sun’s rays do not fall so directly. -</p> -<p>But the laying takes a long time when it is all performed on the same support. Allowing -ten minutes to a cell, the series of forty which I have sometimes seen represents -a period of six to seven hours. The sun therefore can alter its position considerably -before the Cicada has finished her work. In that case the rectilinear direction becomes -bent into a spiral curve. The mother turns around her stalk as the sun itself turns; -and <span class="pageNum" id="pb92">[<a href="#pb92">92</a>]</span>her row of pricks suggests the course of the gnomon’s shadow on a cylindrical sundial. -</p> -<p>Very often, while the Cicada is absorbed in her work of motherhood, an infinitesimal -Gnat, herself the bearer of a boring-tool, labours to exterminate the eggs as fast -as they are placed. Réaumur knew her. In nearly every bit of stick that he examined -he found her grub, which caused him to make a mistake at the beginning of his researches. -But he did not see, he could not see the impudent ravager at work. It is a Chalcidid -some four to five millimetres<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1568src" href="#xd31e1568">7</a> in length, all black, with knotty antennæ, thickening a little towards their tips. -The unsheathed boring-tool is planted in the under part of the abdomen, near the middle, -and sticks out at right angles to the body, as in the case of the Leucospes,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1572src" href="#xd31e1572">8</a> the scourge of certain members of the Bee-tribe. Having neglected to capture the -insect, I do not know what name the nomenclators have bestowed upon it, if indeed -the dwarf that exterminates Cicadæ has been catalogued at all. -</p> -<p>What I do know something about is its <span class="pageNum" id="pb93">[<a href="#pb93">93</a>]</span>calm temerity, its brazen audacity in the immediate presence of the colossus who could -crush it by simply stepping on it. I have seen as many as three exploiting the unhappy -mother at the same time. They keep close behind each other, either working their probes -or awaiting the propitious moment. -</p> -<p>The Cicada has just stocked a cell and is climbing a little higher to bore the next. -One of the brigands runs to the abandoned spot; and here, almost under the claws of -the giantess, without the least fear, as though she were at home and accomplishing -a meritorious act, she unsheathes her probe and inserts it into the column of eggs, -not through the hole already made, which bristles with broken fibres, but through -some lateral crevice. The tool works slowly, because of the resistance of the wood, -which is almost intact. The Cicada has time to stock the next floor above. -</p> -<p>As soon as she has finished, a Gnat standing immediately behind her, waiting to perform -her task, takes her place and comes and introduces her own exterminating germ. By -the time that the mother has exhausted her ovaries and flies away, most of her cells -have, in this fashion, received the alien egg which <span class="pageNum" id="pb94">[<a href="#pb94">94</a>]</span>will be the ruin of their contents. A small, quick-hatching grub, one only to each -chamber, generously fed on a round dozen raw eggs, will take the place of the Cicada’s -family. -</p> -<p>O deplorable mother, have centuries of experience taught you nothing? Surely, with -those excellent eyes of yours, you cannot fail to see the terrible sappers, when they -flutter around you, preparing their felon stroke! You see them, you know that they -are at your heels; and you remain impassive and let yourself be victimized. Turn round, -you easy-going colossus, and crush the pigmies! But you will do nothing of the sort: -you are incapable of altering your instincts, even to lighten your share of maternal -sorrow. -</p> -<p>The Common Cicada’s eggs are of a gleaming ivory-white. Elongated in shape and conical -at both ends, they might be compared with miniature weavers’-shuttles. They are two -millimetres and a half long by half a millimetre wide.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1591src" href="#xd31e1591">9</a> They are arranged in a row, slightly overlapping. The Ash Cicada’s, which are a trifle -smaller, are packed in regular parcels mimicking microscopic bundles of cigars. We -will devote <span class="pageNum" id="pb95">[<a href="#pb95">95</a>]</span>our attention exclusively to the first; their story will tell us that of the others. -</p> -<p>September is not over before the gleaming ivory-white gives place to straw-colour. -In the early days of October there appear, in the front part, two little dark-brown -spots, round and clearly-defined, which are the ocular specks of the tiny creature -in course of formation. These two shining eyes, which almost look at you, combined -with the cone-shaped fore-end, give the eggs an appearance of finless fishes, the -very tiniest of fishes, for which a walnut-shell would make a suitable bowl. -</p> -<p>About the same period, I often see on my asphodels and those on the hills around indications -of a recent hatching. These indications take the form of certain discarded clothes, -certain rags left on the threshold by the new-born grubs moving their quarters and -eager to reach a new lodging. We shall learn in an instant what these cast skins mean. -</p> -<p>Nevertheless, in spite of my visits, which were assiduous enough to deserve a better -result, I have never succeeded in seeing the young Cicadæ come out of their cells. -My home breeding prospers no better. For two <span class="pageNum" id="pb96">[<a href="#pb96">96</a>]</span>years running, at the right time, I collect in boxes, tubes and jars a hundred twigs -of all sorts colonized with Cicada-eggs; not one of them shows me what I am so anxious -to see, the emergence of the budding Cicadæ. -</p> -<p>Réaumur experienced the same disappointment. He tells us how all the eggs sent by -his friends proved failures, even when he carried them in a glass tube in his fob -to give them a mild temperature. O my revered master, neither the warm shelter of -our studies nor the niggardly heating-apparatus of our breeches is enough in this -case! What is needed is that supreme stimulant, the kisses of the sun; what is needed, -after the morning coolness, which already is sharp enough to make us shiver, is the -sudden glow of a glorious autumn day, summer’s last farewell. -</p> -<p>It was in such circumstances as these, when a bright sun supplied a violent contrast -to a cold night, that I used to find signs of hatching; but I always came too late: -the young Cicadæ were gone. At most I sometimes happened to find one hanging by a -thread from his native stalk and struggling in mid-air. I thought him caught in some -shred of cobweb. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb97">[<a href="#pb97">97</a>]</span></p> -<p>At last, on the 27th of October, despairing of success, I gathered the asphodels in -the enclosure and, taking the armful of dry stalks on which the Cicada had laid, carried -it up to my study. Before abandoning all hope, I proposed once more to examine the -cells and their contents. It was a cold morning. The first fire of the season had -been lit. I put my little bundle on a chair in front the hearth, without any intention -of trying the effect of the hot flames upon the nests. The sticks which I meant to -split open one by one were within easier reach of my hand there. That was the only -consideration which made me choose that particular spot. -</p> -<p>Well, while I was passing my magnifying-glass over a split stem, the hatching which -I no longer hoped to see suddenly took place beside me. My bundle became alive; the -young larvæ emerged from their cells by the dozen. Their number was so great that -my professional instincts were amply satisfied. The eggs were exactly ripe; and the -blaze on the hearth, bright and penetrating, produced the same effect as sunlight -out of doors. I lost no time in profiting by this unexpected stroke of luck. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb98">[<a href="#pb98">98</a>]</span></p> -<p>At the aperture of the egg-chamber, among the torn fibres, a tiny cone-shaped body -appears, with two large black eye-spots. To look at, it is absolutely the fore-part -of the egg, which, as I have said, resembles the front of a very minute fish. One -would think that the egg had changed its position, climbing from the bottom of the -basin to the orifice of the little passage. But an egg to move! A germ to start walking! -Such a thing was impossible, had never been known; I must be suffering from an illusion. -I split open the stalk; and the mystery is revealed. The real eggs, though a little -disarranged, have not changed their position. They are empty, reduced to transparent -bags, torn considerably at their fore-ends. From them has issued the very singular -organism whose salient characteristics I will now set forth. -</p> -<p>In its general shape, the configuration of the head and the large black eyes, the -creature, even more than the egg, presents the appearance of an extremely small fish. -A mock ventral fin accentuates the likeness. This sort of oar comes from the fore-legs, -which, cased in a special sheath, lie backwards, stretched against each other in a -<span class="pageNum" id="pb99">[<a href="#pb99">99</a>]</span>straight line. Its feeble power of movement must help the grub to come out of the -egg-shell and—a more difficult matter—out of the fibrous passage. Withdrawing a little -way from the body and then returning, this lever provides a purchase for progression -by means of the terminal claws, which are already well-developed. The four other legs -are still wrapped in the common envelope and are absolutely inert. This applies also -to the antennæ, which can hardly be perceived through the lens. Altogether, the organism -newly issued from the egg is an exceedingly small, boat-shaped body, with a single -oar pointing backwards on the ventral surface and formed of the two fore-legs joined -together. The segmentation is very clearly marked, especially on the abdomen. Lastly, -the whole thing is quite smooth, with not a hair on it. -</p> -<p>What name shall I give to this initial state of the Cicada, a state so strange and -unforeseen and hitherto unsuspected? Must I knock Greek words together and fashion -some uncouth expression? I shall do nothing of the sort, convinced as I am that barbarous -terms are only a cumbrous impediment to science. I shall simply call it “the primary -<span class="pageNum" id="pb100">[<a href="#pb100">100</a>]</span>larva,” as I did in the case of the Oil-beetles, the Leucospes and the Anthrax.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1622src" href="#xd31e1622">10</a> -</p> -<p>The form of the primary larva in the Cicadæ is eminently well-suited for the emergence. -The passage in which the egg is hatched is very narrow and leaves just room for one -to go out. Besides, the eggs are arranged in a row, not end to end, but partly overlapping. -The creature coming from the farther ranks has to make its way through the remains -of the eggs already hatched in front of it. To the narrowness of the corridor is added -the block caused by the empty shells. -</p> -<p>In these conditions, the larva in the form which it will have presently, when it has -torn its temporary scabbard, would not be able to clear the difficult pass. Irksome -antennæ, long legs spreading far from the axis of the body, picks with curved and -pointed ends that catch on the road: all these are in the way of a speedy deliverance. -The eggs in one cell hatch almost simultaneously. It is necessary that the new-born -grubs in front should move out as fast as they can and make <span class="pageNum" id="pb101">[<a href="#pb101">101</a>]</span>room for those behind. This necessitates the smooth, boatlike form, devoid of all -projections, which makes its way insinuatingly, like a wedge. The primary larva, with -its different appendages closely fixed to its body inside a common sheath, with its -boat shape and its single oar possessing a certain power of movement, has its part -to play: its business is to emerge into daylight through a difficult passage. -</p> -<p>Its task is soon done. Here comes one of the emigrants, showing its head with the -great eyes and lifting the broken fibres of the aperture. It works its way farther -and farther out, with a progressive movement so slow that the lens does not easily -perceive it. In half an hour at soonest, the boat-shaped object appears entirely; -but it is still caught by its hinder end in the exit-hole. -</p> -<p>The emergence-jacket splits without further delay; and the creature sheds its skin -from front to back. It is now the normal larva, the only one that Réaumur knew. The -cast slough forms a suspensory thread, expanding into a little cup at its free end. -In this cup is contained the tip of the abdomen of the larva, which, before dropping -to the ground, treats itself to a sun-bath, hardens <span class="pageNum" id="pb102">[<a href="#pb102">102</a>]</span>itself, kicks about and tries its strength, swinging indolently at the end of its -life-line. -</p> -<p>This “little Flea,” as Réaumur calls it, first white, then amber, is at all points -the larva that will dig into the ground. The antennæ, of fair length, are free and -wave about; the legs work their joints; those in front open and shut their claws, -which are the strongest part of them. I know hardly any more curious sight than that -of this miniature gymnast hanging by its hinder-part, swinging at the least breath -of wind and making ready in the air for its somersault into the world. The period -of suspension varies. Some larvæ let themselves drop in half an hour or so; others -remain for hours in their long-stemmed cup; and some even wait until the next day. -</p> -<p>Whether quick or slow, the creature’s fall leaves the cord, the slough of the primary -larva, swinging. When the whole brood has disappeared, the orifice of the cell is -thus hung with a cluster of short, fine threads, twisted and rumpled, like dried white -of egg. Each opens into a little cup at its free end. They are very delicate and ephemeral -relics, which you cannot touch without destroying <span class="pageNum" id="pb103">[<a href="#pb103">103</a>]</span>them. The slightest wind soon blows them away. -</p> -<p>Let us return to the larva. Sooner or later, without losing much time, it drops to -the ground, either by accident or of its own accord. The infinitesimal creature, no -bigger than a Flea, has saved its tender, budding flesh from the rough earth by swinging -on its cord. It has hardened itself in the air, that luxurious eiderdown. It now plunges -into the stern realities of life. -</p> -<p>I see a thousand dangers ahead of it. The merest breath of wind can blow the atom -here, on the impenetrable rock, or there, on the ocean of a rut where a little water -stagnates, or elsewhere, on the sand, the starvation region where nothing grows, or -again on a clay soil, too tough for digging. These fatal expanses are frequent; and -so are the gusts that blow one away in this windy season which has already set in -unpleasantly by the end of October. -</p> -<p>The feeble creature needs very soft soil, easily entered, so as to obtain shelter -immediately. The cold days are drawing nigh; the frosts are coming. To wander about -on the surface of the ground for any length of time would expose us to grave dangers. -We <span class="pageNum" id="pb104">[<a href="#pb104">104</a>]</span>had better descend into the earth without delay; and that to a good depth. This one -imperative condition of safety is in many cases impossible to realize. What can little -Flea’s-claws do against rock, flint or hardened clay? The tiny creature must perish -unless it can find an underground refuge in time. -</p> -<p>The first establishment, which is exposed to so many evil chances, is, so everything -shows us, a cause of great mortality in the Cicada’s family. Already the little black -parasite, the destroyer of the eggs, has told us how expedient it is for the mothers -to accomplish a long and fertile laying; the difficulties attendant upon the initial -installation in their turn explain why the maintenance of the race at its suitable -strength requires three or four hundred eggs to be laid by each of them. Subject to -excessive spoliation, the Cicada is fertile to excess. She averts by the richness -of her ovaries the multitude of dangers threatening her. -</p> -<p>In the experiment which it remains for me to make, I will at least spare the larva -the difficulties of the first installation. I select some very soft, very black heath-mould -and pass it through a fine sieve. Its dark <span class="pageNum" id="pb105">[<a href="#pb105">105</a>]</span>colour will enable me more easily to find the little yellow creature when I want to -see what is happening; and its softness will suit the feeble mattock. I heap it not -too tightly in a glass pot; I plant a little tuft of thyme in it; I sow a few grains -of wheat. There is no hole at the bottom of the pot, though there ought to be, if -the thyme and the wheat are to thrive; the captives, however, finding the hole, would -be certain to escape through it. The plantation will suffer from this lack of drainage; -but at least I am certain of finding my animals with the aid of my magnifying-glass -and plenty of patience. Besides, I shall indulge in no excesses in the matter of irrigation, -supplying only enough water to prevent the plants from dying. -</p> -<p>When everything is ready and the corn is beginning to put forth its first shoots, -I place six young Cicada-larvæ on the surface of the soil. The puny grubs run about -and explore the earthy bed pretty nimbly; some make unsuccessful attempts to climb -the side of the pot. Not one seems inclined to bury itself, so much so that I anxiously -wonder what the object can be of these active and prolonged investigations. Two hours -pass and the restless roaming never ceases. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb106">[<a href="#pb106">106</a>]</span></p> -<p>What is it that they want? Food? I offer them some little bulbs with bundles of sprouting -roots, a few bits of leaves and some fresh blades of grass. Nothing tempts them nor -induces them to stand still. They appear to be selecting a favourable spot before -descending underground. These hesitating explorations are superfluous on the soil -which I have industriously prepared for them: the whole surface, so it seems to me, -lends itself capitally to the work which I expect to see them accomplish. Apparently -it is not enough. -</p> -<p>Under natural conditions, a preliminary run round may well be indispensable. There, -sites as soft as my bed of heath-mould, purged of all hard bodies and finely sifted, -are rare. There, on the other hand, coarse soils, on which the microscopic mattock -can make no impression, are frequent. The grub has to roam at random, to walk about -for some time before finding a suitable place. No doubt many even die, exhausted by -their fruitless search. A journey of exploration, in a country a few inches across, -forms part, therefore, of the young Cicada’s curriculum. In my glass jar, so sumptuously -furnished, the pilgrimage is uncalled for. No matter: <span class="pageNum" id="pb107">[<a href="#pb107">107</a>]</span>it has to be performed according to the time-honoured rites. -</p> -<p>My gadabouts at last grow calm. I see them attack the earth with the hooked mattocks -of their fore-feet, digging into it and making the sort of excavation which the point -of a thick needle would produce. Armed with a magnifying-glass, I watch them wielding -their pick-axes, watch them raking an atom of earth to the surface. In a few minutes -a well has been scooped out. The little creature goes down it, buries itself and is -henceforth invisible. -</p> -<p>Next day I turn out the contents of the pot, without breaking the clod held together -by the roots of the thyme and the wheat. I find all my larvæ at the bottom, stopped -from going farther by the glass. In twenty-four hours they have traversed the entire -thickness of the layer of earth, about four inches. They would have gone even lower -but for the obstacle at the bottom. -</p> -<p>On their way they probably came across my thyme- and wheat-roots. Did they stop to -take a little nourishment by driving in their suckers? It is hardly probable. A few -of these rootlets are trailing at the bottom of the empty pot. Not one of my <span class="pageNum" id="pb108">[<a href="#pb108">108</a>]</span>six prisoners is installed on them. Perhaps in overturning the glass I have shaken -them off. -</p> -<p>It is clear that underground there can be no other food for them than the juice of -the roots. Whether full-grown or in the larval stage, the Cicada lives on vegetables. -As an adult, he drinks the sap of the branches; as a larva, he sucks the sap of the -roots. But at what moment is the first sip taken? This I do not yet know. What goes -before seems to tell us that the newly-hatched grub is in a greater hurry to reach -the depths of the soil, sheltered from the coming colds of winter, than to loiter -at the drinking-bars encountered on the way. -</p> -<p>I put back the clod of heath-mould and for the second time place the six exhumed larvæ -on the surface of the soil. Wells are dug without delay. The grubs disappear down -them. Finally I put the pot in my study-window, where it will receive all the influences -of the outer air, good and bad alike. -</p> -<p>A month later, at the end of November, I make a second inspection. The young Cicadæ -are crouching, each by itself, at the bottom of the clod of earth. They are not <span class="pageNum" id="pb109">[<a href="#pb109">109</a>]</span>clinging to the roots; they have not altered in appearance or in size. I find them -now just as I saw them at the beginning of the experiment, only a little less active. -Does not this absence of growth during the interval of November, the mildest month -of winter, seem to show that no nourishment is taken throughout the cold season? -</p> -<p>The young Sitaris-beetles,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1678src" href="#xd31e1678">11</a> those other animated atoms, as soon as they issue from the egg at the entrance to -the Anthophora’s<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1684src" href="#xd31e1684">12</a> galleries, remain in motionless heaps and spend the winter in complete abstinence. -The little Cicadæ would appear to behave in much the same manner. Once buried in depths -where there is no fear of frosts, they sleep, solitary, in their winter-quarters and -await the return of spring before broaching some root near by and taking their first -refreshment. -</p> -<p>I have tried, but without success, to confirm by actual observation the inferences -to be drawn from the above results. In the spring, in April, for the third time I -unpot my plantation. I break up the clod and <span class="pageNum" id="pb110">[<a href="#pb110">110</a>]</span>scrutinize it under the magnifying-glass. I feel as if I were looking for a needle -in a haystack. At last I find my little Cicadæ. They are dead, perhaps of cold, notwithstanding -the bell-glass with which I had covered the pot; perhaps of starvation, if the thyme -did not suit them. The problem is too difficult to solve; I give it up. -</p> -<p>To succeed in this attempt at rearing one would need a very wide and deep bed of earth, -providing a shelter from the rigours of winter, and, because I do not know which are -the insect’s favourite roots, there would also have to be a varied vegetation, in -which the little larvæ could choose according to their tastes. These conditions are -quite practicable; but how is one afterwards to find in that huge mass of earth, measuring -a cubic yard at least, the atom which I have so much trouble in distinguishing in -a handful of black mould? And, besides, such conscientious digging would certainly -detach the tiny creature from the root that nourishes it. -</p> -<p>The underground life of the early Cicada remains a secret. That of the well-developed -larva is no better-known. When digging in the fields, if you turn up the soil to any -depth, you are constantly finding the fierce <span class="pageNum" id="pb111">[<a href="#pb111">111</a>]</span>little burrower under your spade; but to find it fastened to the roots from whose -sap it undoubtedly derives its nourishment is quite another matter. The upheaval occasioned -by the spade warns it of its danger. It releases its sucker and retreats to some gallery; -and, when discovered, it is no longer drinking. -</p> -<p>If agricultural digging, with its inevitable disturbances, is unable to tell us anything -of the grub’s underground habits, it does at least inform us how long the larval stage -lasts. Some obliging husbandmen, breaking up their land, in March, rather deeper than -usual, were so very good as to pick up for me all the larvæ, big and small, unearthed -by their labour. The harvest amounted to several hundreds. Marked differences in bulk -divided the total into three classes: the large ones, with rudiments of wings similar -to those possessed by the larvæ leaving the ground, the medium-sized and the small. -Each of these classes must correspond with a different age. We will add to them the -larvæ of the last hatching, microscopic creatures that necessarily escaped the eyes -of my rustic collaborators; and we arrive at four years as the probable duration of -the underground life of the Cicadæ. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb112">[<a href="#pb112">112</a>]</span></p> -<p>Their existence in the air is more easily calculated. I hear the first Cicadæ at the -approach of the summer solstice. The orchestra attains its full strength a month later. -A few laggards, very few and very far between, continue to execute their faint solos -until the middle of September. That is the end of the concert. As they do not all -come out of the ground at the same period, it is obvious that the singers of September -are not contemporary with those of June. If we strike an average between these two -extreme dates, we shall have about five weeks. -</p> -<p>Four years of hard work underground and a month of revelry in the sun: this then represents -the Cicada’s life. Let us no longer blame the adult for his delirious triumph. For -four years, in the darkness, he has worn a dirty parchment smock; for four years he -has dug the earth with his mattocks; and behold the mud-stained navvy suddenly attired -in exquisite raiment, possessed of wings that rival the bird’s, drunk with the heat -and inundated with light, the supreme joy of this world! What cymbals could ever be -loud enough to celebrate such felicity, so richly earned and so ephemeral! -<span class="pageNum" id="pb113">[<a href="#pb113">113</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e1459"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1459src">1</a></span> I have gathered the Cicada’s eggs on <i lang="la">Spartium junceum</i>, or Spanish broom; on asphodel (<i lang="la">Asphodelus cerasiferus</i>); on Toad-flax (<i lang="la">Linaria striata</i>); on <i lang="la">Calamintha nepeta</i>, or lesser calamint; on <i lang="la">Hirschfeldia adpressa</i>; on <i lang="la">Chondrilla juncea</i>, or common gum-succory; on garlic (<i lang="la">Allium polyanthum</i>); on <i lang="la">Asteriscus spinosus</i> and other plants.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1459src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1500"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1500src">2</a></span> <i lang="la">Calamintha nepeta</i>, <i lang="la">Hirschfeldia adpressa</i>.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1500src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1516"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1516src">3</a></span> 10.9 inches.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1516src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1520"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1520src">4</a></span> 11.7 inches.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1520src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1524"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1524src">5</a></span> 4.6 inches.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1524src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1532"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1532src">6</a></span> .31 to .39 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1532src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1568"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1568src">7</a></span> .156 to .195 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1568src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1572"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1572src">8</a></span> Cf. <i>The Mason-bees</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. xi.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1572src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1591"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1591src">9</a></span> About 1⁄10 × 1⁄50 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note</i>. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1591src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1622"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1622src">10</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life of the Fly</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps, ii, iii and -v.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1622src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1678"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1678src">11</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life of the Fly</i>: chap. iv.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1678src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1684"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1684src">12</a></span> Cf. <i>Bramble-bees and Others</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: <i>passim.</i>—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1684src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch6" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e251">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER VI</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE MANTIS: HER HUNTING</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Another creature of the south, at least as interesting as the Cicada, but much less -famous, because it makes no noise. Had Heaven granted it a pair of cymbals, the one -thing needed, its renown would eclipse the great musician’s, for it is most unusual -in both shape and habits. Folk hereabouts call it <i lang="fr">lou Prègo-Diéu</i>, the animal that prays to God. Its official name is the Praying Mantis (<i lang="la">M. religiosa</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>). -</p> -<p>The language of science and the peasant’s artless vocabulary agree in this case and -represent the queer creature as a pythoness delivering her oracles or an ascetic rapt -in pious ecstasy. The comparison dates a long way back. Even in the time of the Greeks -the insect was called <span class="trans" title="Mantis"><span lang="grc" class="grek">Μάντις</span></span>, the divine, the prophet. The tiller of the soil is not particular about analogies: -where points of resemblance are not too clear, he will make <span class="pageNum" id="pb114">[<a href="#pb114">114</a>]</span>up for their deficiencies. He saw on the sun-scorched herbage an insect of imposing -appearance, drawn up majestically in a half-erect posture. He noticed its gossamer -wings, broad and green, trailing like long veils of finest lawn; he saw its fore-legs, -its arms so to speak, raised to the sky in a gesture of invocation. That was enough; -popular imagination did the rest; and behold the bushes from ancient times stocked -with Delphic priestesses, with nuns in orison. -</p> -<p>Good people, with your childish simplicity, how great was your mistake! Those sanctimonious -airs are a mask for Satanic habits; those arms folded in prayer are cut-throat weapons: -they tell no beads, they slay whatever passes within range. Forming an exception which -one would never have suspected in the herbivorous order of the Orthoptera, the Mantis -feeds exclusively on living prey. She is the tigress of the peaceable entomological -tribes, the ogress in ambush who levies a tribute of fresh meat. Picture her with -sufficient strength; and her carnivorous appetites, combined with her traps of horrible -perfection, would make her the terror of the country-side. The <i lang="fr">Prègo-Diéu</i> would become a devilish vampire. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb115">[<a href="#pb115">115</a>]</span></p> -<p>Apart from her lethal implement, the Mantis has nothing to inspire dread. She is not -without a certain beauty, in fact, with her slender figure, her elegant bust, her -pale-green colouring and her long gauze wings. No ferocious mandibles, opening like -shears; on the contrary, a dainty pointed muzzle that seems made for billing and cooing. -Thanks to a flexible neck, quite independent of the thorax, the head is able to move -freely, to turn to right or left, to bend, to lift itself. Alone among insects, the -Mantis directs her gaze; she inspects and examines; she almost has a physiognomy. -</p> -<p>Great indeed is the contrast between the body as a whole, with its very pacific aspect, -and the murderous mechanism of the fore-legs, which are correctly described as raptorial. -The haunch is uncommonly long and powerful. Its function is to throw forward the rat-trap, -which does not await its victim but goes in search of it. The snare is decked out -with some show of finery. The base of the haunch is adorned on the inner surface with -a pretty, black mark, having a white spot in the middle; and a few rows of bead-like -dots complete the ornamentation. -</p> -<p>The thigh, longer still, a sort of flattened <span class="pageNum" id="pb116">[<a href="#pb116">116</a>]</span>spindle, carries on the front half of its lower surface two rows of sharp spikes. -In the inner row there are a dozen, alternately black and green, the green being shorter -than the black. This alternation of unequal lengths increases the number of cogs and -improves the effectiveness of the weapon. The outer row is simpler and has only four -teeth. Lastly, three spurs, the longest of all, stand out behind the two rows. In -short, the thigh is a saw with two parallel blades, separated by a groove in which -the leg lies when folded back. -</p> -<p>The leg, which moves very easily on its joint with the thigh, is likewise a double-edged -saw. The teeth are smaller, more numerous and closer together than those on the thigh. -It ends in a strong hook whose point vies with the finest needle for sharpness, a -hook fluted underneath and having a double blade like a curved pruning-knife. -</p> -<p>This hook, a most perfect instrument for piercing and tearing, has left me many a -painful memory. How often, when Mantis-hunting, clawed by the insect which I had just -caught and not having both hands at liberty, have I been obliged to ask somebody else -to release me from my tenacious captive! <span class="pageNum" id="pb117">[<a href="#pb117">117</a>]</span>To try to free yourself by force, without first disengaging the claws implanted in -your flesh, would expose you to scratches similar to those produced by the thorns -of a rose-tree. None of our insects is so troublesome to handle. The Mantis claws -you with her pruning-hooks, pricks you with her spikes, seizes you in her vice and -makes self-defence almost impossible if, wishing to keep your prize alive, you refrain -from giving the pinch of the thumb that would put an end to the struggle by crushing -the creature. -</p> -<p>When at rest, the trap is folded and pressed back against the chest and looks quite -harmless. There you have the insect praying. But, should a victim pass, the attitude -of prayer is dropped abruptly. Suddenly unfolded, the three long sections of the machine -throw to a distance their terminal grapnel, which harpoons the prey and, in returning, -draws it back between the two saws. The vice closes with a movement like that of the -fore-arm and the upper arm; and all is over: Locusts, Grasshoppers and others even -more powerful, once caught in the mechanism with its four rows of teeth, are irretrievably -lost. Neither their desperate <span class="pageNum" id="pb118">[<a href="#pb118">118</a>]</span>fluttering nor their kicking will make the terrible engine release its hold. -</p> -<p>An uninterrupted study of the Mantis’ habits is not practicable in the open fields; -we must rear her at home. There is no difficulty about this: she does not mind being -interned under glass, on condition that she be well fed. Offer her choice viands, -served up fresh daily, and she will hardly feel her absence from the bushes. -</p> -<p>As cages for my captives I have some ten large wire-gauze dish-covers, the same that -are used to protect meat from the Flies. Each stands in a pan filled with sand. A -dry tuft of thyme and a flat stone on which the laying may be done later constitute -all the furniture. These huts are placed in a row on the large table in my insect -laboratory, where the sun shines on them for the best part of the day. I instal my -captives in them, some singly, some in groups. -</p> -<p>It is in the second fortnight of August that I begin to come upon the adult Mantis -in the withered grass and on the brambles by the road-side. The females, already notably -corpulent, are more frequent from day to day. Their slender companions, on the other -hand, are rather scarce; and I sometimes <span class="pageNum" id="pb119">[<a href="#pb119">119</a>]</span>have a good deal of difficulty in making up my couples, for there is an appalling -consumption of these dwarfs in the cages. Let us keep these atrocities for later and -speak first of the females. -</p> -<p>They are great eaters, whose maintenance, when it has to last for some months, is -none too easy. The provisions, which are nibbled at disdainfully and nearly all wasted, -have to be renewed almost every day. I trust that the Mantis is more economical on -her native bushes. When game is not plentiful, no doubt she devours every atom of -her catch; in my cages she is extravagant, often dropping and abandoning the rich -morsel after a few mouthfuls, without deriving any further benefit from it. This appears -to be her particular method of beguiling the tedium of captivity. -</p> -<p>To cope with these extravagant ways I have to employ assistants. Two or three small -local idlers, bribed by the promise of a slice of melon or bread-and-butter, go morning -and evening to the grass-plots in the neighbourhood and fill their game-bags—cases -made of reed-stumps—with live Locusts and Grasshoppers. I on my side, net in hand, -make a daily circuit of my enclosure, <span class="pageNum" id="pb120">[<a href="#pb120">120</a>]</span>in the hope of obtaining some choice morsel for my boarders. -</p> -<p>These tit-bits are intended to show me to what lengths the Mantis’ strength and daring -can go. They include the big Grey Locust (<i lang="la">Pachytylus cinerescens</i>, <span class="sc">Fab.</span>), who is larger than the insect that will consume him; the White-faced Decticus, -armed with a vigorous pair of mandibles whereof our fingers would do well to fight -shy; the quaint Tryxalis, who wears a pyramid-shaped mitre on her head; the Vine Ephippiger,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1777src" href="#xd31e1777">1</a> who clashes cymbals and sports a sword at the bottom of her pot-belly. To this assortment -of game that is not any too easy to tackle, let us add two monsters, two of the largest -Spiders of the district: the Silky Epeira, whose flat, festooned abdomen is the size -of a franc piece; and the Cross Spider, or Diadem Epeira,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1781src" href="#xd31e1781">2</a> who is hideously hairy and obese. -</p> -<p>I cannot doubt that the Mantis attacks such adversaries in the open, when I see her, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb121">[<a href="#pb121">121</a>]</span>under my covers, boldly giving battle to whatever comes in sight. Lying in wait among -the bushes, she must profit by the fat prizes offered by chance even as, in the wire -cage, she profits by the treasures due to my generosity. Those big hunts, full of -danger, are no new thing; they form part of her normal existence. Nevertheless they -appear to be rare, for want of opportunity, perhaps to the Mantis’ deep regret. -</p> -<p>Locusts of all kinds, Butterflies, Dragon-flies, large Flies, Bees and other moderate-sized -captures are what we usually find in the lethal limbs. Still the fact remains that, -in my cages, the daring huntress recoils before nothing. Sooner or later, Grey Locust -and Decticus, Epeira and Tryxalis are harpooned, held tight between the saws and crunched -with gusto. The facts are worth describing. -</p> -<p>At the sight of the Grey Locust who has heedlessly approached along the trelliswork -of the cover, the Mantis gives a convulsive shiver and suddenly adopts a terrifying -posture. An electric shock would not produce a more rapid effect. The transition is -so abrupt, the attitude so threatening that the observer beholding it for the first -time at <span class="pageNum" id="pb122">[<a href="#pb122">122</a>]</span>once hesitates and draws back his fingers, apprehensive of some unknown danger. Old -hand as I am, I cannot even now help being startled, should I happen to be thinking -of something else. -</p> -<p>You see before you, most unexpectedly, a sort of bogey-man or Jack-in-the-box. The -wing-covers open and are turned back on either side, slantingly; the wings spread -to their full extent and stand erect like parallel sails or like a huge heraldic crest -towering over the back; the tip of the abdomen curls upwards like a crosier, rises -and falls, relaxing with short jerks and a sort of sough, a “Whoof! Whoof!” like that -of a Turkey-cock spreading his tail. It reminds one of the puffing of a startled Adder. -</p> -<p>Planted defiantly on its four hind-legs, the insect holds its long bust almost upright. -The murderous legs, originally folded and pressed together upon the chest, open wide, -forming a cross with the body and revealing the arm-pits decorated with rows of beads -and a black spot with a white dot in the centre. These two faint imitations of the -eyes in a Peacock’s tail, together with the dainty ivory beads, are warlike ornaments -kept hidden at ordinary times. They are <span class="pageNum" id="pb123">[<a href="#pb123">123</a>]</span>taken from the jewel-case only at the moment when we have to make ourselves brave -and terrible for battle. -</p> -<p>Motionless in her strange posture, the Mantis watches the Locust, with her eyes fixed -in his direction and her head turning as on a pivot whenever the other changes his -place. The object of this attitudinizing is evident: the Mantis wants to strike terror -into her dangerous quarry, to paralyze it with fright, for, unless demoralized by -fear, it would prove too formidable. -</p> -<p>Does she succeed in this? Under the shiny head of the Decticus, behind the long face -of the Locust, who can tell what passes? No sign of excitement betrays itself to our -eyes on those impassive masks. Nevertheless it is certain that the threatened one -is aware of the danger. He sees standing before him a spectre, with uplifted claws, -ready to fall upon him; he feels that he is face to face with death; and he fails -to escape while there is yet time. He who excels in leaping and could so easily hop -out of reach of those talons, he, the big-thighed jumper, remains stupidly where he -is, or even draws nearer with a leisurely step. -</p> -<p>They say that little birds, paralysed with <span class="pageNum" id="pb124">[<a href="#pb124">124</a>]</span>terror before the open jaws of the Snake, spell-bound by the reptile’s gaze, lose -their power of flight and allow themselves to be snapped up. The Locust often behaves -in much the same way. See him within reach of the enchantress. The two grapnels fall, -the claws strike, the double saws close and clutch. In vain the poor wretch protests: -he chews space with his mandibles and, kicking desperately, strikes nothing but the -air. His fate is sealed. The Mantis furls her wings, her battle-standard; she resumes -her normal posture; and the meal begins. -</p> -<p>In attacking the Tryxalis and the Ephippiger, less dangerous game than the Grey Locust -and the Decticus, the spectral attitude is less imposing and of shorter duration. -Often the throw of the grapnels is sufficient. This is likewise so in the case of -the Epeira, who is grasped round the body with not a thought of her poison-fangs. -With the smaller Locusts, the usual fare in my cages as in the open fields, the Mantis -seldom employs her intimidation-methods and contents herself with seizing the reckless -one that passes within her reach. -</p> -<p>When the prey to be captured is able to offer serious resistance, the Mantis has at -<span class="pageNum" id="pb125">[<a href="#pb125">125</a>]</span>her service a pose that terrorizes and fascinates her quarry and gives her claws a -means of hitting with certainty. Her rat-traps close on a demoralized victim incapable -of defence. She frightens her victim into immobility by suddenly striking a spectral -attitude. -</p> -<p>The wings play a great part in this fantastic pose. They are very wide, green on the -outer edge, colourless and transparent every elsewhere. They are crossed lengthwise -by numerous veins, which spread in the shape of a fan. Other veins, transversal and -finer, intersect the first at right angles and with them form a multitude of meshes. -In the spectral attitude, the wings are displayed and stand upright in two parallel -planes that almost touch each other, like the wings of a Butterfly at rest. Between -them the curled tip of the abdomen moves with sudden starts. The sort of breath which -I have compared with the puffing of an Adder in a posture of defence comes from this -rubbing of the abdomen against the nerves of the wings. To imitate the strange sound, -all that you need do is to pass your nail quickly over the upper surface of an unfurled -wing. -</p> -<p>Wings are essential to the male, a slender <span class="pageNum" id="pb126">[<a href="#pb126">126</a>]</span>pigmy who has to wander from thicket to thicket at mating-time. He has a well-developed -pair, more than sufficient for his flight, the greatest range of which hardly amounts -to four or five of our paces. The little fellow is exceedingly sober in his appetites. -On rare occasions, in my cages, I catch him eating a lean Locust, an insignificant, -perfectly harmless creature. This means that he knows nothing of the spectral attitude, -which is of no use to an unambitious hunter of his kind. -</p> -<p>On the other hand, the advantage of the wings to the female is not very obvious, for -she is inordinately stout at the time when her eggs ripen. She climbs, she runs; but, -weighed down by her corpulence, she never flies. Then what is the object of wings, -of wings, too, which are seldom matched for breadth? -</p> -<p>The question becomes more significant if we consider the Grey Mantis (<i lang="la">Ameles decolor</i>), who is closely akin to the Praying Mantis. The male is winged and is even pretty -quick at flying. The female, who drags a great belly full of eggs, reduces her wings -to stumps and, like the cheese-makers of Auvergne and Savoy, wears a short-tailed -<span class="pageNum" id="pb127">[<a href="#pb127">127</a>]</span>jacket. For one who is not meant to leave the dry grass and the stones, this abbreviated -costume is more suitable than superfluous gauze furbelows. The Grey Mantis is right -to retain but a mere vestige of the cumbrous sails. -</p> -<p>Is the other wrong to keep her wings, to exaggerate them, even though she never flies? -Not at all. The Praying Mantis hunts big game. Sometimes a formidable prey appears -in her hiding-place. A direct attack might be fatal. The thing to do is first to intimidate -the new-comer, to conquer his resistance by terror. With this object she suddenly -unfurls her wings into a ghost’s winding-sheet. The huge sails incapable of flight -are hunting-implements. This stratagem is not needed by the little Grey Mantis, who -captures feeble prey, such as Gnats and new-born Locusts. The two huntresses, who -have similar habits and, because of their stoutness, are neither of them able to fly, -are dressed to suit the difficulties of the ambuscade. The first, an impetuous amazon, -puffs her wings into a threatening standard; the second, a modest fowler, reduces -them to a pair of scanty coat-tails. -</p> -<p>In a fit of hunger, after a fast of some <span class="pageNum" id="pb128">[<a href="#pb128">128</a>]</span>days’ duration, the Praying Mantis will gobble up a Grey Locust whole, except for -the wings, which are too dry; and yet the victim of her voracity is as big as herself, -or even bigger. Two hours are enough for consuming this monstrous head of game. An -orgy of the sort is rare. I have witnessed it once or twice and have always wondered -how the gluttonous creature found room for so much food and how it reversed in its -favour the axiom that the cask must be greater than its contents. I can but admire -the lofty privileges of a stomach through which matter merely passes, being at once -digested, dissolved and done away with. -</p> -<p>The usual bill of fare in my cages consists of Locusts of greatly varied species and -sizes. It is interesting to watch the Mantis nibbling her Acridian, firmly held in -the grip of her two murderous fore-legs. Notwithstanding the fine, pointed muzzle, -which seems scarcely made for this gorging, the whole dish disappears, with the exception -of the wings, of which only the slightly fleshy base is consumed. The legs, the tough -skin, everything goes down. Sometimes the Mantis seizes one of the big hinder thighs -by the knuckle-end, lifts it to her mouth, <span class="pageNum" id="pb129">[<a href="#pb129">129</a>]</span>tastes it and crunches it with a little air of satisfaction. The Locust’s fat and -juicy thigh may well be a choice morsel for her, even as a leg of mutton is for us. -</p> -<p>The prey is first attacked in the neck. While one of the two lethal legs holds the -victim transfixed through the middle of the body, the other presses the head and makes -the neck open upwards. The Mantis’ muzzle roots and nibbles at this weak point in -the armour with some persistency. A large wound appears in the head. The Locust gradually -ceases kicking and becomes a lifeless corpse; and, from this moment, freer in its -movements, the carnivorous insect picks and chooses its morsel. -</p> -<p>This preliminary gnawing of the neck is too regular an occurrence to be purposeless. -Let us indulge in a digression which will tell us more about it. In June I often find -on the lavender in the enclosure two small Crab Spiders (<i lang="la">Thomisus onustus</i>, <span class="sc">Walck.</span>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1850src" href="#xd31e1850">3</a> and <i lang="la">T. rotundatus</i>, <span class="sc">Walck.</span>). One is satin-white and has pink and green rings round her legs; the other is inky-black -and has an abdomen encircled with red with a foliaceous <span class="pageNum" id="pb130">[<a href="#pb130">130</a>]</span>central patch. They are pretty Spiders, both of them, and they walk sideways, after -the manner of Crabs. They do not know how to weave a hunting-net; the little silk -which they possess is reserved exclusively for the downy satchel containing the eggs. -Their plan of campaign therefore is to lie in ambush on the flowers and to fling themselves -unexpectedly on the quarry when it arrives on pilfering intent. -</p> -<p>Their favourite prey is the Hive-bee. I often come upon them with their prize, at -times grabbed by the neck and at others by any part of the body, even the tip of a -wing. In each and every case the Bee is dead, with her legs hanging limply and her -tongue out. -</p> -<p>The poison-fangs planted in the neck set me thinking; I see in them a characteristic -remarkably like the practice of the Mantis when starting on her Locust. And then arises -another question: how does the weak Spider, who is vulnerable in every part of her -soft body, manage to get hold of a prey like the Bee, stronger than herself, quicker -in movement and armed with a sting that can inflict a mortal wound? -</p> -<p>The difference in physical strength and force of arms between assailant and assailed -<span class="pageNum" id="pb131">[<a href="#pb131">131</a>]</span>is so very great that a contest of this kind seems impossible unless some netting -intervene, some silken toils that can shackle and bind the formidable creature. The -contrast would be no more intense were the Sheep to take it into her head to fly at -the Wolf’s throat. And yet the daring attack takes place and victory goes to the weaker, -as is proved by the numbers of dead Bees whom I see sucked for hours by the Thomisi. -The relative weakness must be made good by some special art; the Spider must possess -a strategy that enables her to surmount the apparently insurmountable difficulty. -</p> -<p>To watch events on the lavender-borders would expose me to long, fruitless waits. -It is better myself to make the preparations for the duel. I place a Thomisus under -a cover with a bunch of lavender sprinkled with a few drops of honey. Some three or -four live Bees complete the establishment. -</p> -<p>The Bees pay no heed to their redoubtable neighbour. They flutter around the trellised -enclosure; from time to time they go and take a sip from the honeyed flowers, sometimes -quite close to the Spider, not a quarter of an inch away. They seem utterly unaware -of their danger. The experience of <span class="pageNum" id="pb132">[<a href="#pb132">132</a>]</span>centuries has taught them nothing about the terrible cut-throat. The Thomisus, on -her side, waits motionless on a spike of lavender, near the honey. Her four front -legs, which are longer than the others, are spread out and slightly raised, in readiness -for attack. -</p> -<p>A Bee comes to drink at the drop of honey. This is the moment. The Spider springs -forward and with her fangs seizes the imprudent one by the tip of the wings, while -her legs hold the victim in a tight embrace. A few seconds pass, during which the -Bee struggles as best she can against the aggressor on her back, out of the reach -of her dagger. This fight at close quarters cannot last long; the Bee would release -herself from the other’s grip. And so the Spider lets go the wing and suddenly bites -her prey in the back of the neck. Once the fangs drive home, it is all over: death -ensues. The Bee is slain. Of her turbulent activity naught lingers but some faint -quivers of the tarsi, final convulsions which are soon at an end. -</p> -<p>Still holding her prey by the nape of the neck, the Thomisus feasts not on the body, -which remains intact, but on the blood, which is slowly sucked. When the neck is drained -dry, another spot is attacked, on the abdomen, <span class="pageNum" id="pb133">[<a href="#pb133">133</a>]</span>the thorax, anywhere. This explains why my observations in the open air showed me -the Thomisus with her fangs fixed now in the neck, now in some other part of the Bee. -In the first case, the capture was a recent one and the murderess still retained her -original posture; in the second case, it had been made some time before; and the Spider -had forsaken the wound in the head, now sucked dry, to bite into some other juicy -part, no matter which. -</p> -<p>Thus shifting her fangs, a trifle this way or that, as she drains her prey, the little -ogress gorges on her victim’s blood with voluptuous deliberation. I have seen the -meal last for seven consecutive hours; and even then the prey was let go only because -of the shock given to its devourer by my indiscreet examination. The abandoned corpse, -a carcass of no value to the Spider, is not dismembered in any way. There is not a -trace of bitten flesh, not a wound that shows. The Bee is drained of her blood; and -that is all. -</p> -<p>My friend Bull, when he was alive, used to catch an enemy whose teeth threatened danger -by the skin of the neck. His method is in general use throughout the canine race. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb134">[<a href="#pb134">134</a>]</span>There, in front of you, is a growling pair of jaws, open, white with foam, ready to -bite. The most elementary prudence advises you to keep them quiet by catching hold -of the back of the neck. -</p> -<p>In her fight with the Bee, the Spider has not the same object. What has she to fear -from her victim? The sting before all things, the terrible dart whose least stab would -destroy her. And yet she does not trouble about it. What she makes for is the back -of the neck, that alone and never anything else, so long as the prey remains alive. -In so doing she does not aim at copying the tactics of the Dog and depriving the head, -which is not particularly dangerous, of its power of movement. Her plan is farther-reaching -and is revealed to us by the lightning death of the Bee. The neck is no sooner gripped -than the victim expires. The cerebral centres therefore are injured, poisoned with -a deadly virus; and life is straightway extinguished at its very seat. This avoids -a struggle which, if prolonged, would certainly end in the aggressor’s discomfiture. -The Bee has her strength and her sting on her side; the delicate Thomisus has on hers -a profound knowledge of the art of murder. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb135">[<a href="#pb135">135</a>]</span></p> -<p>Let us return to the Mantis, who likewise has mastered the first principles of speedy -and scientific killing, in which the little Bee-slaughtering Spider excels. A sturdy -Locust is captured; sometimes a powerful Grasshopper. The Mantis naturally wants to -devour the victuals in peace, without being troubled by the plunges of a victim who -absolutely refuses to be devoured. A meal liable to interruptions lacks savour. Now -the principal means of defence in this case are the hind-legs, those vigorous levers -which can kick out so brutally and which moreover are armed with toothed saws that -would rip open the Mantis’ bulky paunch if by ill-luck they happen to graze it. What -shall we do to reduce them to helplessness, together with the others, which are not -dangerous but troublesome all the same, with their desperate gesticulations? -</p> -<p>Strictly speaking, it would be practicable to cut them off one by one. But that is -a long process and attended with a certain risk. The Mantis has hit upon something -better. She has an intimate knowledge of the anatomy of the spine. By first attacking -her prize at the back of the half-opened neck and munching the cervical ganglia, she -destroys <span class="pageNum" id="pb136">[<a href="#pb136">136</a>]</span>the muscular energy at its main seat; and inertia supervenes, not suddenly and completely, -for the clumsily-constructed Locust has not the Bee’s exquisite and frail vitality, -but still sufficiently, after the first mouthfuls. Soon the kicking and the gesticulating -die down, all movement ceases and the game, however big it be, is consumed in perfect -quiet. -</p> -<p>Among the hunters, I have before now drawn a distinction between those who paralyse -and those who kill.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1897src" href="#xd31e1897">4</a> Both terrify one with their anatomical knowledge. To-day let us add to the killers -the Thomisus, that expert in stabbing in the neck, and the Mantis, who, to devour -a powerful prey at her ease, deprives it of movement by first gnawing its cervical -ganglia. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb137">[<a href="#pb137">137</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e1777"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1777src">1</a></span> The Decticus, Tryxalis and Ephippiger are all species of Grasshoppers or Locusts.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1777src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1781"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1781src">2</a></span> <i lang="la">Epeira sericea</i> and <i lang="la">E. diadema</i> are two Garden Spiders for whom cf. <i>The Life of the Spider</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps. ix to xiv.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1781src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1850"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1850src">3</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life of the Spider</i>: chap. viii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1850src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e1897"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1897src">4</a></span> Cf. <i>The Hunting Wasps: passim.</i>—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1897src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch7" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e261">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER VII</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE MANTIS: HER LOVE-MAKING</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The little that we have seen of the Mantis’ habits hardly tallies with what we might -have expected from her popular name. To judge by the term <i lang="fr">Prègo-Diéu</i>, we should look to see a placid insect, deep in pious contemplation; and we find -ourselves in the presence of a cannibal, of a ferocious spectre munching the brain -of a panic-stricken victim. Nor is even this the most tragic part. The Mantis has -in store for us, in her relations with her own kith and kin, manners even more atrocious -than those prevailing among the Spiders, who have an evil reputation in this respect. -</p> -<p>To reduce the number of cages on my big table and give myself a little more space -while still retaining a fair-sized menagerie, I instal several females, sometimes -as many as a dozen, under one cover. So far as accommodation is concerned, no fault -can be found <span class="pageNum" id="pb138">[<a href="#pb138">138</a>]</span>with the common lodging. There is room and to spare for the evolutions of my captives, -who naturally do not want to move about much with their unwieldy bellies. Hanging -to the trelliswork of the dome, motionless they digest their food or else await an -unwary passer-by. Even so do they act when at liberty in the thickets. -</p> -<p>Cohabitation has its dangers. I know that even Donkeys, those peace-loving animals, -quarrel when hay is scarce in the manger. My boarders, who are less complaisant, might -well, in a moment of dearth, become sour-tempered and fight among themselves. I guard -against this by keeping the cages well supplied with Locusts, renewed twice a day. -Should civil war break out, famine cannot be pleaded as the excuse. -</p> -<p>At first, things go pretty well. The community lives in peace, each Mantis grabbing -and eating whatever comes near her, without seeking strife with her neighbours. But -this harmonious period does not last long. The bellies swell, the eggs are ripening -in the ovaries, marriage and laying-time are at hand. Then a sort of jealous fury -bursts out, though there is an entire absence of males who might be held responsible -for <span class="pageNum" id="pb139">[<a href="#pb139">139</a>]</span>feminine rivalry. The working of the ovaries seems to pervert the flock, inspiring -its members with a mania for devouring one another. There are threats, personal encounters, -cannibal feasts. Once more the spectral pose appears, the hissing of the wings, the -fearsome gesture of the grapnels outstretched and uplifted in the air. No hostile -demonstration in front of a Grey Locust or White-faced Decticus could be more menacing. -</p> -<p>For no reason that I can gather, two neighbours suddenly assume their attitude of -war. They turn their heads to right and left, provoking each other, exchanging insulting -glances. The “Puff! Puff!” of the wings rubbed by the abdomen sounds the charge. When -the duel is to be limited to the first scratch received, without more serious consequences, -the lethal fore-arms, which are usually kept folded, open like the leaves of a book -and fall back sideways, encircling the long bust. It is a superb pose, but less terrible -than that adopted in a fight to the death. -</p> -<p>Then one of the grapnels, with a sudden spring, shoots out to its full length and -strikes the rival; it is no less abruptly withdrawn <span class="pageNum" id="pb140">[<a href="#pb140">140</a>]</span>and resumes the defensive. The adversary hits back. The fencing is rather like that -of two Cats boxing each other’s ears. At the first blood drawn from her flabby paunch, -or even before receiving the least wound, one of the duellists confesses herself beaten -and retires. The other furls her battle-standard and goes off elsewhither to meditate -the capture of a Locust, keeping apparently calm, but ever ready to repeat the quarrel. -</p> -<p>Very often, events take a more tragic turn. At such times, the full posture of the -duels to the death is assumed. The murderous fore-arms are unfolded and raised in -the air. Woe to the vanquished! The other seizes her in her vice and then and there -proceeds to eat her, beginning at the neck, of course. The loathsome feast takes place -as calmly as though it were a matter of crunching up a Grasshopper. The diner enjoys -her sister as she would a lawful dish; and those around do not protest, being quite -willing to do as much on the first occasion. -</p> -<p>Oh, what savagery! Why, even Wolves are said not to eat one another. The Mantis has -no such scruples; she banquets off her fellows when there is plenty of her favourite -<span class="pageNum" id="pb141">[<a href="#pb141">141</a>]</span>game, the Locust, around her. She practises the equivalent of cannibalism, that hideous -peculiarity of man. -</p> -<p>These aberrations, these child-bed cravings can reach an even more revolting stage. -Let us watch the pairing and, to avoid the disorder of a crowd, let us isolate the -couples under different covers. Each pair shall have its own home, where none will -come to disturb the wedding. And let us not forget the provisions, with which we will -keep them well supplied, so that there may be no excuse of hunger. -</p> -<p>It is near the end of August. The male, that slender swain, thinks the moment propitious. -He makes eyes at his strapping companion; he turns his head in her direction; he bends -his neck and throws out his chest. His little pointed face wears an almost impassioned -expression. Motionless, in this posture, for a long time he contemplates the object -of his desire. She does not stir, is as though indifferent. The lover, however, has -caught a sign of acquiescence, a sign of which I do not know the secret. He goes nearer; -suddenly he spreads his wings, which quiver with a convulsive tremor. That is his -declaration. He rushes, small as he is, upon <span class="pageNum" id="pb142">[<a href="#pb142">142</a>]</span>the back of his corpulent companion, clings on as best he can, steadies his hold. -As a rule, the preliminaries last a long time. At last, coupling takes place and is -also long drawn out, lasting sometimes for five or six hours. -</p> -<p>Nothing worthy of attention happens between the two motionless partners. They end -by separating, but only to unite again in a more intimate fashion. If the poor fellow -is loved by his lady as the vivifier of her ovaries, he is also loved as a piece of -highly-flavoured game. And, that same day, or at latest on the morrow, he is seized -by his spouse, who first gnaws his neck, in accordance with precedent, and then eats -him deliberately, by little mouthfuls, leaving only the wings. Here we have no longer -a case of jealousy in the harem, but simply a depraved appetite. -</p> -<p>I was curious to know what sort of reception a second male might expect from a recently -fertilized female. The result of my enquiry was shocking. The Mantis, in many cases, -is never sated with conjugal raptures and banquets. After a rest that varies in length, -whether the eggs be laid or not, a second male is accepted and then devoured <span class="pageNum" id="pb143">[<a href="#pb143">143</a>]</span>like the first. A third succeeds him, performs his function in life, is eaten and -disappears. A fourth undergoes a like fate. In the course of two weeks I thus see -one and the same Mantis use up seven males. She takes them all to her bosom and makes -them all pay for the nuptial ecstasy with their lives. -</p> -<p>Orgies such as this are frequent, in varying degrees, though there are exceptions. -On very hot days, highly charged with electricity, they are almost the general rule. -At such times the Mantes are in a very irritable mood. In the cages containing a large -colony, the females devour one another more than ever; in the cages containing separate -pairs, the males, after coupling, are more than ever treated as an ordinary prey. -</p> -<p>I should like to be able to say, in mitigation of these conjugal atrocities, that -the Mantis does not behave like this in a state of liberty; that the male, after doing -his duty, has time to get out of the way, to make off, to escape from his terrible -mistress, for in my cages he is given a respite, lasting sometimes until next day. -What really occurs in the thickets I do not know, chance, a poor resource, having -never instructed me <span class="pageNum" id="pb144">[<a href="#pb144">144</a>]</span>concerning the love-affairs of the Mantis when at large. I can only go by what happens -in the cages, where the captives, enjoying plenty of sunshine and food and spacious -quarters, do not seem to suffer from homesickness in any way. What they do here they -must also do under normal conditions. -</p> -<p>Well, what happens there utterly refutes the idea that the males are given time to -escape. I find, by themselves, a horrible couple engaged as follows. The male, absorbed -in the performance of his vital functions, holds the female in a tight embrace. But -the wretch has no head; he has no neck; he has hardly a body. The other, with her -muzzle turned over her shoulder continues very placidly to gnaw what remains of the -gentle swain. And, all the time, that masculine stump, holding on firmly, goes on -with the business! -</p> -<p>Love is stronger than death, men say. Taken literally, the aphorism has never received -a more brilliant confirmation. A headless creature, an insect amputated down to the -middle of the chest, a very corpse persists in endeavouring to give life. It will -not let go until the abdomen, the seat of the procreative organs, is attacked. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb145">[<a href="#pb145">145</a>]</span></p> -<p>Eating the lover after consummation of marriage, making a meal of the exhausted dwarf, -henceforth good for nothing, can be understood, to some extent, in the insect world, -which has no great scruples in matters of sentiment; but gobbling him up during the -act goes beyond the wildest dreams of the most horrible imagination. I have seen it -done with my own eyes and have not yet recovered from my astonishment. -</p> -<p>Was this one able to escape and get out of the way, caught as he was in the midst -of his duty? Certainly not. Hence we must infer that the loves of the Mantis are tragic, -quite as much as the Spider’s and perhaps even more so. I admit that the restricted -space inside the cages favours the slaughter of the males; but the cause of these -massacres lies elsewhere. -</p> -<p>Perhaps it is a relic of the palæozoic ages, when, in the carboniferous period, the -insect came into being as the result of monstrous amours. The Orthoptera, to whom -the Mantes belong, are the first-born of the entomological world. Rough-hewn, incomplete -in their transformation, they roamed among the arborescent ferns and were already -flourishing when none of the insects <span class="pageNum" id="pb146">[<a href="#pb146">146</a>]</span>with delicate metamorphoses, Butterflies, Moths, Beetles, Flies and Bees, as yet existed. -Manners were not gentle in those days of passion eager to destroy in order to produce; -and the Mantes, a faint memory of the ghosts of old, might well continue the amorous -methods of a bygone age. -</p> -<p>The habit of eating the males is customary among other members of the Mantis family. -I am indeed prepared to admit that it is general. The little Grey Mantis, who looks -so sweet and so peaceable in my cages, never seeking a quarrel with her neighbours -however crowded they may be, bites into her male and feeds on him as fiercely as the -Praying Mantis herself. I wear myself out, scouring the country to procure the indispensable -complement to my gynæceum. No sooner is my powerfully-winged and nimble prize introduced -than, most often, he is clawed and eaten up by one of those who no longer need his -aid. Once the ovaries are satisfied, the Mantes of both species abhor the male, or -rather look upon him as nothing better than a choice piece of venison. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb147">[<a href="#pb147">147</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch8" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e271">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER VIII</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE MANTIS: HER NEST</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Let us show the insect of the tragic amours under a more attractive aspect. Its nest -is a marvel. In scientific language it is called <i>ootheca</i>, the egg-case. I shall not overwork this outlandish term. We do not say, “the Chaffinch’s -egg-case,” when we mean, “the Chaffinch’s nest:” why should I be obliged to talk about -a case when I speak of the Mantis? It may sound more learned; but that is not my business. -</p> -<p>The nest of the Praying Mantis is found more or less everywhere in sunny places, on -stones, wood, vine-stocks, twigs, dry grass and even on products of human industry, -such as bits of brick, strips of coarse linen or the hard, shrivelled leather of an -old boot. Any support serves, without distinction, so long as there is an uneven surface -to which the bottom of the nest can be fixed, thus securing a solid foundation. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb148">[<a href="#pb148">148</a>]</span></p> -<p>The usual dimensions are four centimetres in length and two in width.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1976src" href="#xd31e1976">1</a> The colour is as golden as a grain of wheat. When set alight, the material burns -readily and exhales a faint smell of singed silk. The substance is in fact akin to -silk; only, instead of being drawn into thread, it has curdled into a frothy mass. -When the nest is fixed to a branch, the base goes round the nearest twigs, envelops -them and assumes a shape which varies in accordance with the support encountered; -when it is fixed to a flat surface, the under side, which is always moulded on the -support, is itself flat. The nest thereupon takes the form of a semi-ellipsoid, more -or less blunt at one end, tapering at the other and often ending in a short, curved -tail. -</p> -<p>Whatever the support, the upper surface of the nest is systematically convex. We can -distinguish in it three well-marked longitudinal zones. The middle one, which is narrower -than the others, is composed of little plates or scales arranged in pairs and overlapping -like the tiles of a roof. The edges of these plates are free, leaving two parallel -rows of slits or fissures through <span class="pageNum" id="pb149">[<a href="#pb149">149</a>]</span>which the young emerge at hatching-time. In a recently-abandoned nest, this middle -zone is furry with gossamer skins, discarded by the larvæ. These cast skins flutter -at the least breath and soon vanish when exposed to rough weather. I will call it -the exit-zone, because it is only along this median belt that the liberation of the -young takes place, thanks to the outlets contrived beforehand. -</p> -<p>In every other part the cradle of the numerous family presents an impenetrable wall. -The two side zones, in fact, which occupy the greater part of the semi-ellipsoid, -have perfect continuity of surface. The little Mantes, so feeble at the start, could -never make their way out through so tough a substance. All that we see on it is a -number of fine, transversal furrows, marking the various layers of which the mass -of eggs consists. -</p> -<p>Cut the nest across. It will now be perceived that the eggs, taken together, form -an elongated kernel, very hard and firm and coated on the sides with a thick, porous -rind, like solidified foam. Above are curved plates, set very closely and almost independent -of one another; their edges end in <span class="pageNum" id="pb150">[<a href="#pb150">150</a>]</span>the exit-zone, where they form a double row of small, imbricated scales. -</p> -<p>The eggs are buried in a yellow matrix of horny appearance. They are placed in layers, -shaped like segments of a circle, with the ends containing the heads converging towards -the exit-zone. This arrangement tells us how the deliverance is accomplished. The -new-born larvæ will slip into the space left between two adjoining plates, a prolongation -of the kernel, where they will find a narrow passage, difficult to go through, but -just sufficient when we bear in mind the curious provision of which we shall speak -presently; and by so doing they will reach the middle belt. Here, under the imbricated -scales, two outlets open for each layer of eggs. Half of the larvæ undergoing their -liberation will emerge through the right door, half through the left. And this is -repeated for each layer from end to end of the nest. -</p> -<p>To sum up these structural details, which are rather difficult to grasp for any one -who has not the thing in front of him: lying along the axis of the nest and shaped -like a date-stone is the cluster of eggs, grouped in layers. A protecting rind, a -sort of solidified foam, surrounds this cluster, except at the top along <span class="pageNum" id="pb151">[<a href="#pb151">151</a>]</span>the median line, where the frothy rind is replaced by thin plates set side by side. -The free ends of these plates form the exit-zone outside; they are imbricated in two -series of scales and leave a couple of outlets, narrow clefts, for each layer of eggs. -</p> -<p>The most striking part of my researches was being present at the construction of the -nest and seeing how the Mantis goes to work to produce so complex a building. I managed -it with some difficulty, for the laying takes place without warning and nearly always -at night. After much useless waiting, chance at last favoured me. On the 5th of September, -one of my boarders, who had been fertilized on the 29th of August, decided to lay -her eggs before my eyes at about four o’clock in the afternoon. -</p> -<p>Before watching her labour, let us note one thing: all the nests that I have obtained -in the cages—and there are a good many of them—have as their support, with not a single -exception, the wire gauze of the covers. I had taken care to place at the Mantes’ -disposal a few rough bits of stone, a few tufts of thyme, foundations very often used -in the open fields. My captives preferred the wire network, whose meshes furnish <span class="pageNum" id="pb152">[<a href="#pb152">152</a>]</span>a perfectly safe support as the soft material of the building becomes encrusted in -them. -</p> -<p>The nests, under natural conditions, enjoy no shelter; they have to endure the inclemencies -of winter, to withstand rain, wind, frost and snow without coming loose. Therefore -the mother always chooses an uneven support for the nest, so that the foundations -can be wedged into it and a firm hold obtained. But, when circumstances permit, the -better is preferred to the middling and the best to the better; and this must be the -reason why the trelliswork of the cages is invariably adopted. -</p> -<p>The only Mantis that I have been allowed to observe while engaged in laying does her -work upside down, hanging from the top of the cage. My presence, my magnifying-glass, -my investigations do not disturb her at all, so great is her absorption in her labour. -I can raise the trellised dome, tilt it, turn it over, spin it this way and that, -without the insect’s suspending its task for a moment. I can take my forceps and lift -the long wings to see what is happening underneath. The Mantis takes no notice. Up -to this point, all is well: the mother does not move and <span class="pageNum" id="pb153">[<a href="#pb153">153</a>]</span>impassively endures all the indiscretions of which I am guilty as an observer. And -yet things do not go quite as I could wish, for the operation is too rapid and is -too difficult to follow. -</p> -<p>The end of the abdomen is immersed the whole time in a sea of foam, which prevents -us from grasping the details of the process with any clearness. This foam is greyish-white, -a little sticky and almost like soapsuds. When it first appears, it adheres slightly -to a straw which I dip into it, but, two minutes afterwards, it is solidified and -no longer sticks to the straw. In a very short time, its consistency is that which -we find in an old nest. -</p> -<p>The frothy mass consists mainly of air imprisoned in little bubbles. This air, which -gives the nest a volume much greater than that of the Mantis’ belly, obviously does -not come from the insect, though the foam appears at the entrance of the genital organs; -it is taken from the atmosphere. The Mantis, therefore, builds above all with air, -which is eminently suited to protect the nest against the weather. She discharges -a sticky substance, similar to the caterpillars’ silk-fluid; and with this composition, -which amalgamates <span class="pageNum" id="pb154">[<a href="#pb154">154</a>]</span>instantly with the outer air, she produces foam. -</p> -<p>She whips her product just as we whip white of egg to make it rise and froth. The -tip of the abdomen, opening with a long cleft, forms two lateral ladles which meet -and separate with a constant, rapid movement, beating the sticky fluid and turning -it into foam as it is discharged outside. In addition, between the two flapping ladles, -we see the internal organs rising and falling, appearing and disappearing, after the -manner of a piston-rod, without being able to distinguish their precise action, drowned -as they are in the opaque stream of foam. -</p> -<p>The end of the abdomen, ever throbbing, quickly opening and closing its valves, swings -from right to left and left to right like a pendulum. The result of each swing is -a layer of eggs inside and a transversal furrow outside. As the abdomen advances in -the arc described, suddenly and at very close intervals it dips deeper into the foam, -as though it were pushing something to the bottom of the frothy mass. Each time, no -doubt, an egg is laid; but things happen so fast and under conditions so unfavourable -to observation that I never once succeed in <span class="pageNum" id="pb155">[<a href="#pb155">155</a>]</span>seeing the ovipositor at work. I can judge of the arrival of the eggs only by the -movements of the tip of the abdomen, which suddenly drives down and immerses itself -more deeply. -</p> -<p>At the same time, the viscous stuff is poured forth in intermittent waves and whipped -and turned into foam by the two terminal valves. The froth obtained spreads over the -sides of the layer of eggs and at the base, where I see it, pressed back by the abdomen, -projecting through the meshes of the gauze. Thus the spongy covering is gradually -brought into being as the ovaries are emptied. -</p> -<p>I imagine, without being able to rely on direct observation, that for the central -kernel, where the eggs are contained in a more homogeneous material than the rind, -the Mantis employs her product as it is, without beating it up and making it foam. -When the eggs are deposited, the two valves would produce foam to cover them. Once -again, however, all this is very difficult to follow under the veil of the bubbling -mass. -</p> -<p>In a new nest, the exit-zone is coated with a layer of fine porous matter, of a pure, -dull, almost chalky white, which contrasts with <span class="pageNum" id="pb156">[<a href="#pb156">156</a>]</span>the dirty white of the remainder of the nest. It is like the composition which confectioners -make out of whipped white of egg, sugar and starch, with which to ornament their cakes. -This snowy covering is very easily crumbled and removed. When it is gone, the exit-zone -is clearly defined, with its two rows of plates with free edges. The weather, the -wind and the rain sooner or later remove it in strips and flakes; and therefore the -old nests retain no traces of it. -</p> -<p>At the first inspection, one might be tempted to look upon this snowy matter as a -different substance from the remainder of the nest. But can it be that the Mantis -really employs two different products? By no means. Anatomy, to begin with, assures -us of the unity of the materials. The organ that secretes the substance of the nest -consists of twisted cylindrical tubes, divided into two sections of twenty each. All -are filled with a colourless, viscous fluid, exactly similar in appearance wherever -we look. There is nowhere any sign of a product with a chalky colouring. -</p> -<p>The manner in which the snowy ribbon is formed also makes us reject the theory of -different materials. We see the Mantis’ two <span class="pageNum" id="pb157">[<a href="#pb157">157</a>]</span>caudal threads sweeping the surface of the foamy mass, skimming, so to speak, the -top of the froth, collecting it and retaining it along the back of the nest to form -a band that looks like a ribbon of icing. What remains after this sweeping, or what -trickles from the band before it sets, spreads over the sides in a thin wash of bubbles -so fine that they cannot be seen without the magnifying-glass. -</p> -<p>The surface of a muddy stream containing clay will be covered with coarse and dirty -foam, churned up by the rushing torrent. On this foam, soiled with earthy materials, -we see here and there masses of beautiful white froth, with smaller bubbles. Selection -is due to the difference in density; and so the snow-white foam in places lies on -top of the dirty foam whence it proceeds. Something similar happens when the Mantis -builds her nest. The twin ladles reduce to foam the sticky spray from the glands. -The thinnest and lightest portion, made whiter by its more delicate porousness, rises -to the surface, where the caudal threads sweep it up and gather it into a snowy ribbon -along the back of the nest. -</p> -<p>Until now, with a little patience, observation <span class="pageNum" id="pb158">[<a href="#pb158">158</a>]</span>has been practicable and has given satisfactory results. It becomes impossible when -we come to the very complex structure of that middle zone where exits are contrived -for the emergence of the larvæ under the shelter of a double row of imbricated plates. -The little that I am able to make out amounts to this: the tip of the abdomen, split -wide from top to bottom, forms a sort of button-hole whose upper end remains almost -fixed while the lower end, in swinging, produces foam and immerses eggs in it. It -is that upper end which is undoubtedly responsible for the work of the middle zone. -I always see it in the extension of that zone, in the midst of the fine white foam -collected by the caudal filaments. These, one on the right, the other on the left, -mark the boundaries of the band. They feel its edges; they seem to be testing the -work. I can easily imagine them two long and exquisitely delicate fingers controlling -the difficult business of construction. -</p> -<p>But how are the two rows of scales obtained and the fissures, the exit-doors, which -they shelter? I do not know. I cannot even guess. I leave the rest of the problem -to others. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb159">[<a href="#pb159">159</a>]</span></p> -<p>What a wonderful mechanism is this which emits so methodically and swiftly the horny -matrix of the central kernel, the protecting froth, the white foam of the median ribbon, -the eggs and the fertilizing fluid and which at the same time is able to build overlapping -plates, imbricated scales and alternating open fissures! We are lost in admiration. -And yet how easily the work is done! The Mantis hangs motionless on the wire gauze -which is the foundation of her nest. She gives not a glance at the edifice that is -rising behind her; her legs are not called upon for assistance of any kind. The thing -works of itself. We have here not an industrial task requiring the cunning of instinct; -it is a purely automatic process, regulated by the insect’s tools and organization. -The nest, with its highly complicated structure, proceeds solely from the play of -the organs, even as in our own industries we manufacture by machinery a host of objects -whose perfection would outwit our manual dexterity. -</p> -<p>From another point of view, the Mantis’ nest is more remarkable still. We see in it -a superb application of one of the most beautiful principles of physics, that of the -conservation <span class="pageNum" id="pb160">[<a href="#pb160">160</a>]</span>of heat. The Mantis anticipated us in a knowledge of non-conducting bodies. -</p> -<p>We owe to Rumford,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2042src" href="#xd31e2042">2</a> the natural philosopher, the following curious experiment, which fittingly demonstrates -the low conductivity of the air. The illustrious scientist dropped a frozen cheese -into a mass of foam supplied by well-beaten eggs. The whole was subjected to the heat -of an oven. The result in a short time was an <i lang="fr">omelette soufflée</i> hot enough to burn the tongue, with the cheese in the middle as cold as at the beginning. -The air contained in the bubbles of the surrounding froth explains the strange phenomenon. -As an exceedingly poor thermal conductor, it had arrested the heat of the oven and -prevented it from reaching the frozen substance in the centre. -</p> -<p>Now what does the Mantis do? Precisely the same as Rumford: she whips her white of -egg into an <i lang="fr">omelette soufflée</i>, to protect the eggs collected into a central kernel. Her aim, it is true, is reversed: -her coagulated foam is intended to ward off the cold, not the heat. But a protection -against <span class="pageNum" id="pb161">[<a href="#pb161">161</a>]</span>one is a protection against the other; and the ingenious physicist, had he wished, -could easily with the same frothy wrapper have maintained the heat of a body in cold -surroundings. -</p> -<p>Rumford knew the secrets of the stratum of air thanks to the accumulated knowledge -of his ancestors, his own researches and his own studies. How is it that for no one -knows how many centuries the Mantis has beaten our natural philosophers in the matter -of this delicate problem of heat? How did she come to think of wrapping a blanket -of foam around her mass of eggs, which, fixed without any shelter to a twig or stone, -has to endure the rigours of winter with impunity? -</p> -<p>The other Mantidæ of my neighbourhood, the only ones of whom I can speak with full -knowledge, use the non-conducting wrapper of solidified foam or do without it, according -as the eggs are destined to live through the winter or not. The little Grey Mantis, -who differs so greatly from the other owing to the almost entire absence of wings -in the female, builds a nest not quite so big as a cherry-stone and covers it very -cleverly with a rind of froth. Why this beaten-up envelope? <span class="pageNum" id="pb162">[<a href="#pb162">162</a>]</span>Because the nest of the Grey Mantis, like that of the Praying Mantis, has to last -through the winter, exposed on its bough or stone to all the dangers of the bad weather. -</p> -<p>On the other hand, in spite of her size, which is equal to that of the Praying Mantis, -<i lang="la">Empusa pauperata</i>, who is the most curious of our insects, builds a nest as small as that of the Grey -Mantis. It is a very modest edifice, consisting of a small number of cells set side -by side in three or four rows joined together. Here there is no frothy envelope at -all, though the nest, like those mentioned above, is fixed in an exposed situation -on some twig or broken stone. This absence of a non-conducting mattress points to -a difference in climatic conditions. The Empusa’s eggs, in fact, hatch soon after -they are laid, during the fine weather. Not having to undergo the inclemencies of -winter, they have no protection but the slender sheath of their cases. -</p> -<p>Are these scrupulous and rational precautions, which rival Rumford’s <i lang="fr">omelette soufflée</i>, a casual result, one of those numberless combinations turned out by the wheel of -fortune? If so, let us not shrink from any absurdity, but recognize straightway that -the <span class="pageNum" id="pb163">[<a href="#pb163">163</a>]</span>blindness of chance is endowed with marvellous foresight. -</p> -<p>The blunt end of the nest is the first part built by the Praying Mantis and the tapering -end the last. The latter is often prolonged into a sort of spur made by drawing out -the final drop of albuminous fluid used. To complete the whole thing demands about -two hours of concentrated work, free from interruption. -</p> -<p>As soon as the laying is finished, the mother withdraws, callously. I expected to -see her return and display some tender feeling for the cradle of her family. But there -is not the least sign of maternal joy. The work is done and possesses no further interest -for her. Some Locusts have come up. One even perches on the nest. The Mantis pays -no attention to the intruders. They are peaceful, it is true. Would she drive them -away if they were dangerous and if they looked like ripping open the egg-casket? Her -impassive behaviour answers no. What is the nest to her henceforth? She knows it no -more. -</p> -<p>I have spoken of the repeated coupling of the Praying Mantis and of the tragic end -of the male, who is nearly always devoured like <span class="pageNum" id="pb164">[<a href="#pb164">164</a>]</span>an ordinary piece of game. In the space of a fortnight I have seen the same female -marry again as many as seven times over. Each time the easily-consoled widow ate up -her mate. Such habits make one assume repeated layings; and these do, in fact, take -place, though they are not the general rule. Among my mothers, some gave me only one -nest; others supplied me with two, both equally large. The most fertile produced three, -of which the first two were of normal size, while the third was reduced to half the -usual dimensions. -</p> -<p>The last-mentioned insect shall tell us the population which the Mantis’ ovaries are -capable of producing. Reckoning by the transversal furrows of the nest, we can easily -count the layers of eggs. These are more or less rich according to their position -at the middle of the ellipsoid or at the ends. The numbers of the eggs in the biggest -and in the smallest layer furnish an average from which we can approximately deduce -the total. In this way I find that a good-sized nest contains about four hundred eggs. -The mother with the three nests, the last of which was only half the size of the others, -therefore left as her offspring no fewer than a thousand <span class="pageNum" id="pb165">[<a href="#pb165">165</a>]</span>germs; those who laid twice left eight hundred; and the less fertile mothers three -to four hundred. In every case, it is a fine family, which would even become cumbrous, -if it were not subjected to drastic pruning. -</p> -<p>The pretty little Grey Mantis is much less lavish. In my cages she lays only once; -and her nest contains some sixty eggs at most. Although built on the same principles -and likewise fixed in the open, it differs remarkably from the work of the Praying -Mantis, first in its scanty dimensions and next in certain details of structure. It -is shaped like a shelving ridge. The two sides are curved and the median line projects -into a slightly denticulated crest. It is grooved crosswise by about a dozen furrows, -corresponding with the several layers of eggs. Here we find no exit-zone, with short, -imbricated scales; no snowy ribbon with alternating outlets. The whole surface, including -the foundation, is uniformly covered with a shiny red-brown rind, in which the bubbles -are very small. One end is ogival in shape; the other, the end where the nest finishes, -is abruptly truncated and is prolonged above in a short spur. The whole forms a kernel -surrounded by the foamy rind. Like the Praying <span class="pageNum" id="pb166">[<a href="#pb166">166</a>]</span>Mantis, the Grey Mantis works at night, an unfortunate circumstance for the observer. -</p> -<p>Large in size, curious in build and moreover plainly visible on its stone or its bit -of brushwood, the Praying Mantis’ nest could not fail to attract the attention of -the Provençal peasant. It is, in fact, very well-known in the country districts, where -it bears the name of <i>tigno</i>; it even enjoys a great reputation. Yet nobody seems to be aware of its origin. It -is always a matter for surprise to my rustic neighbours when I inform them that the -famous <i>tigno</i> is the nest of the common <i lang="fr">Prègo-Diéu</i>. Their ignorance might well be due to the Mantis’ habit of laying her eggs at night. -The insect has never been caught working at her nest in the mysterious darkness; and -the link between the worker and the work is missing, though both are known to every -one in the village. -</p> -<p>No matter: the singular object exists; it attracts the eye, it captivates the attention. -It must therefore be good for something, it must possess virtues. Thus, throughout -the ages, have the ingenuous argued, hoping to find in the unfamiliar an alleviation -of their pains. -</p> -<p>By general consent, the rural pharmacopœia, <span class="pageNum" id="pb167">[<a href="#pb167">167</a>]</span>in Provence, extols the <i>tigno</i> as the best remedy against chilblains. The way to employ it is exceedingly simple. -You cut the thing in two, squeeze it and rub the afflicted part with the streaming -juice. The remedy, they say, works like a charm. Every one mad with the itching of -blue and swollen fingers hastens to have recourse to the <i>tigno</i>, according to traditional custom. Does he really obtain relief? -</p> -<p>Notwithstanding the unanimous conviction, I venture to doubt it, after the fruitless -experiments tried upon myself and other members of my household during the winter -of 1895, when the long and severe frost produced any amount of epidermic discomfort. -Not one of us, when smeared with the celebrated ointment, saw the chilblains on his -fingers decrease nor felt the irritation relieved in the slightest degree by the albuminous -varnish of the crushed <i>tigno</i>. It seems probable that others are no more successful and that the popular reputation -of the specific nevertheless survives, probably because of a mere identity of name -between the remedy and the disease: the Provençal for chilblain is <i>tigno</i>. Once that the nest of the Praying Mantis and the chilblain are <span class="pageNum" id="pb168">[<a href="#pb168">168</a>]</span>known by the same name, do not the virtues of the former become obvious? That is how -reputations are created. -</p> -<p>In my village and no doubt for some distance around, the <i>tigno</i>—I am now speaking of the Mantis’ nest—is also highly praised as a wonderful cure -for toothache. As long as you have it on you, you need never fear that trouble. Our -housewives gather it under a favourable moon; they preserve it religiously in a corner -of the press; they sew it into their pocket, lest they should lose it when taking -out their handkerchief; and neighbours borrow it when tortured by some molar. -</p> -<p>“Lend me your <i>tigno</i>: I am in agony,” says the sufferer with the swollen face. -</p> -<p>The other hastens to unstitch and to hand over the precious object: -</p> -<p>“Don’t lose it, whatever you do,” she impresses on her friend. “It’s the only one -I have; and this isn’t the right time of moon.” -</p> -<p>Let us not laugh at this eccentric toothache-nostrum: many remedies that sprawl triumphantly -over the back pages of the newspapers are no more effective. Besides, this rural simplicity -is surpassed by some old books in which slumbers the <span class="pageNum" id="pb169">[<a href="#pb169">169</a>]</span>science of by-gone days. An English naturalist of the sixteenth century, Thomas Moffett, -the physician,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2129src" href="#xd31e2129">3</a> tells us that, if a child lose his way in the country, he will ask the Mantis to -put him on his road. The Mantis, adds the author, “will stretch out one of her feet -and shew him the right way and seldome or never misse.” These charming things are -told with adorable simplicity: -</p> -<blockquote lang="la"> -<p class="first">“<i>Tam divina censetur bestiola, ut puero interroganti de via, extento digito rectam -monstrat atque raro vel nunquam fallat.</i>”</p> -</blockquote><p> -</p> -<p>Where did the credulous scholar get this pretty story? Not in England, where the Mantis -cannot live; not in Provence, where we find no trace of the boyish question. All said, -I prefer the spiflicating virtues of the <i>tigno</i> to the old naturalist’s imaginings. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb170">[<a href="#pb170">170</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e1976"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1976src">1</a></span> 1.56 in. × .78 in.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1976src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2042"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2042src">2</a></span> Benjamin Thompson (1753–1814), an American loyalist, created Count Rumford in Bavaria, -where he became minister for war. He discovered the convertibility of mechanical energy -into heat.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2042src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2129"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2129src">3</a></span> Thomas Moffett, Moufet, or Muffet (1553–1604), author of a posthumous <i lang="la">Insectorum sive Minimorum Animalium Teatrum</i>, published in Latin in 1634 and in an English translation, by Edward Topsell, in -1658. Although giving credence to too many fabulous reports, Moffett was acknowledged -the prince of entomologists prior to the advent of Jan Swammerdam (1637–1680).—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2129src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch9" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e282">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER IX</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE MANTIS: HER HATCHING</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The eggs of the Praying Mantis usually hatch in bright sunshine, at about ten o’clock -on a mid-June morning. The median band or exit-zone is the only portion of the nest -that affords an outlet to the youngsters. -</p> -<p>From under each scale of that zone we see slowly appearing a blunt, transparent protuberance, -followed by two large black specks, which are the eyes. Softly the new-born grub slips -under the thin plate and half-releases itself. Is it the little Mantis in his larval -form, so nearly allied to that of the adult? Not yet. It is a transition organism. -The head is opalescent, blunt, swollen, with palpitations caused by the flow of the -blood. The rest is tinted reddish-yellow. It is quite easy to distinguish, under a -general overall, the large black eyes clouded by the veil that covers them, the mouth-parts -flattened against the chest, the legs plastered to the <span class="pageNum" id="pb171">[<a href="#pb171">171</a>]</span>body from front to back. Altogether, with the exception of the very obvious legs, -the whole thing, with its big blunt head, its eyes, its delicate abdominal segmentation -and its boatlike shape, reminds us somewhat of the first state of the Cicadæ on leaving -the egg, a state which is pictured exactly by a tiny, finless fish. -</p> -<p>Here then is a second instance of an organization of very brief duration having as -its function to bring into the light of day, through narrow and difficult passes, -a microscopic creature whose limbs, if free, would, because of their length, be an -insurmountable impediment. To enable him to emerge from the exiguous tunnel of his -twig, a tunnel bristling with woody fibres and blocked with shells already empty, -the Cicada is born swathed in bands and endowed with a boat shape, which is eminently -suited to slipping easily through an awkward passage. The young Mantis is exposed -to similar difficulties. He has to emerge from the depths of the nest through narrow, -winding ways, in which full-spread, slender limbs would not be able to find room. -The high stilts, the murderous harpoons, the delicate antennæ, organs which will be -most useful presently, in <span class="pageNum" id="pb172">[<a href="#pb172">172</a>]</span>the brushwood, would now hinder the emergence, would make it very laborious, impossible. -The creature therefore comes into existence swaddled and furthermore takes the shape -of a boat. -</p> -<p>The case of the Cicada and the Mantis opens up a new vein to us in the inexhaustible -entomological mine. I extract from it a law which other and similar facts, picked -up more or less everywhere, will certainly not fail to confirm. The true larva is -not always the direct product of the egg. When the newborn grub is likely to experience -special difficulties in effecting its deliverance, an accessory organism, which I -shall continue to call the primary larva, precedes the genuine larval state and has -as its function to bring to the light of day the tiny creature which is incapable -of releasing itself. -</p> -<p>To go on with our story, the primary larvæ show themselves under the thin plates of -the exit-zone. A vigorous flow of humours occurs in the head, swelling it out and -converting it into a diaphanous and ever-throbbing blister. In this way the splitting-apparatus -is prepared. At the same time, the little creature, half-caught under its scale, sways, -pushes forward, draws back. Each <span class="pageNum" id="pb173">[<a href="#pb173">173</a>]</span>swaying is accompanied by an increase of the swelling in the head. At last the prothorax -arches and the head is bent low towards the chest. The tunic bursts across the prothorax. -The little animal tugs, wriggles, sways, bends and straightens itself again. The legs -are drawn from their sheaths; the antennæ, two long parallel threads, are likewise -released. The creature is now fastened to the nest only by a worn-out cord. A few -shakes complete the deliverance. -</p> -<p>We here have the insect in its genuine larval form. All that remains behind is a sort -of irregular cord, a shapeless clout which the least breath blows about like a flimsy -bit of fluff. It is the exit-tunic violently shed and reduced to a mere rag. -</p> -<p>For all my watchfulness, I missed the moment of hatching in the case of the Grey Mantis. -The little that I know is reduced to this: at the end of the spur or promontory with -which the nest finishes in front is a small, dull-white speck, formed of very powdery -foam. This round pore is only just plugged with a frothy stopper and constitutes the -sole outlet from the nest, which is thoroughly strengthened at every other part. It -takes <span class="pageNum" id="pb174">[<a href="#pb174">174</a>]</span>the place of the long band of scales through which the Praying Mantis is released. -It is here that the youngsters must emerge one by one from their casket. Chance does -not favour me and I do not witness the exodus, but, soon after the family has come -forth, I see dangling at the entrance to the liberating pore a shapeless bunch of -white cast-off clothes, thin skins which a puff of wind would disperse. These are -the garments flung aside by the young as they make their appearance in the open air; -and they testify to the presence of a transition wrapper which permits of movement -inside the maze of the nest. The Grey Mantis therefore also has her primary larva, -which packs itself up in a narrow sheath, conducive to escape. The period of this -emergence is June. -</p> -<p>To return to the Praying Mantis. The hatching does not take place all over the nest -at one time, but rather in sections, in successive swarms which may be separated by -intervals of two days or more. The pointed end, containing the last eggs, usually -begins. This inversion of chronological order, calling the last to the light of day -before the first, may well be due to the shape of the nest. The thin end, which is -more accessible <span class="pageNum" id="pb175">[<a href="#pb175">175</a>]</span>to the stimulus of a fine day, wakes up before the blunt end, which is larger and -does not so soon acquire the necessary amount of heat. -</p> -<p>Sometimes, however, although still broken up in swarms, the hatching embraces the -whole length of the exit-zone. A striking sight indeed is the sudden exodus of a hundred -young Mantes. Hardly does the tiny creature show its black eyes under a scale before -others appear instantly, in their numbers. It is as though a certain shock were being -communicated from one to another, as though an awakening signal were transmitted, -so swiftly does the hatching spread all round. Almost in a moment the median band -is covered with young Mantes who run about feverishly, stripping themselves of their -rent garments. -</p> -<p>The nimble little creatures do not stay long on the nest. They let themselves drop -off or else clamber into the nearest foliage. All is over in less than twenty minutes. -The common cradle resumes its peaceful condition, prior to furnishing a new legion -a few days later; and so on until all the eggs are finished. -</p> -<p>I have witnessed this exodus as often as <span class="pageNum" id="pb176">[<a href="#pb176">176</a>]</span>I wished to, either out of doors, in my enclosure, where I had deposited in sunny -places the nests gathered more or less everywhere during my winter leisure, or else -in the seclusion of a greenhouse, where I thought, in my simplicity, that I should -be better able to protect the budding family. I have witnessed the hatching twenty -times if I have once; and I have always beheld a scene of unforgetable carnage. The -round-bellied Mantis may procreate germs by the thousands: she will never have enough -to cope with the devourers who are destined to decimate the breed from the moment -that it leaves the egg. -</p> -<p>The Ants above all are zealous exterminators. Daily I surprise their ill-omened visits -on my rows of nests. It is vain for me to intervene, however seriously; their assiduity -never slackens. They seldom succeed in making a breach in the fortress: that is too -difficult; but, greedy of the dainty flesh in course of formation inside, they await -a favourable opportunity, they lie in wait for the exit. -</p> -<p>Despite my daily watchfulness, they are there the moment that the young Mantes appear. -They grab them by the abdomen, pull <span class="pageNum" id="pb177">[<a href="#pb177">177</a>]</span>them out of their sheaths, cut them up. You see a piteous fray between tender babes -gesticulating as their only means of defence and ferocious brigands carrying their -<i lang="la">spolia opima</i> at the end of their mandibles. In less than no time the massacre of the innocents -is consummated; and all that remains of the flourishing family is a few scattered -survivors who have escaped by accident. -</p> -<p>The future assassin, the scourge of the insect race, the terror of the Locust on the -brushwood, the dread devourer of fresh meat, is herself devoured, from her birth, -by one of the least of that race, the Ant. The ogress, prolific to excess, sees her -family thinned by the dwarf. But the slaughter is not long continued. So soon as she -has acquired a little firmness from the air and strengthened her legs, the Mantis -ceases to be attacked. She trots about briskly among the Ants, who fall back as she -passes, no longer daring to tackle her. With her grappling-legs brought close to her -chest, like arms ready for self-defence, already she strikes awe into them by her -proud bearing. -</p> -<p>A second connoisseur in tender meats pays no heed to these threats. This is the little -Grey Lizard, the lover of sunny walls. Apprised <span class="pageNum" id="pb178">[<a href="#pb178">178</a>]</span>I know not how of the quarry, here he comes, picking up one by one, with the tip of -his slender tongue, the stray insects that have escaped the Ants. They make a small -mouthful but an exquisite one, so it seems, to judge by the blinking of the reptile’s -eye. For each little wretch gulped down, its lid half-closes, a sign of profound satisfaction. -I drive away the bold Lizard who ventures to perpetrate his raid before my eyes. He -comes back again and, this time, pays dearly for his rashness. If I let him have his -way, I should have nothing left. -</p> -<p>Is this all? Not yet. Another ravager, the smallest of all but not the least formidable, -has anticipated the Lizard and the Ant. This is a very tiny Hymenopteron armed with -a probe, a Chalcis, who establishes her eggs in the newly-built nest. The Mantis’ -brood shares the fate of the Cicada’s: parasitic vermin attack the eggs and empty -the shells. Out of all that I have collected I often obtain nothing or hardly anything. -The Chalcis has been that way. -</p> -<p>Let us gather up what the various exterminators, known or unknown, have left me. When -newly hatched, the larva is of a pale hue, white faintly tinged with yellow. <span class="pageNum" id="pb179">[<a href="#pb179">179</a>]</span>The swelling of its head soon diminishes and disappears. Its colour is not long in -darkening and turns light-brown within twenty-four hours. The little Mantis very nimbly -lifts up her grappling-legs, opens and closes them; she turns her head to right and -left; she curls her abdomen. The fully-developed larva has no greater litheness and -agility. For a few minutes the family stops where it is, swarming over the nest; then -it scatters at random on the ground and the plants hard by. -</p> -<p>I instal a few dozen emigrants under bell-covers. On what shall I feed these future -huntresses? On game, obviously. But what game? To these miniature creatures I can -only offer atoms. I serve them up a rose-branch covered with Green Fly. The plump -Aphis, a tender morsel suited to my feeble guests, is utterly scorned. Not one of -the captives touches it. -</p> -<p>I try them with Midges, the smallest that chance flings into my net as it sweeps the -grass, and meet with the same obstinate refusal. I offer them pieces of Fly, hung -here and there on the gauze of the cover. None accepts my quarters of venison. Perhaps -the Locust will tempt them, the Locust on <span class="pageNum" id="pb180">[<a href="#pb180">180</a>]</span>whom the adult Mantis dotes? A prolonged and minute search places me in possession -of what I want. This time the bill of fare will consist of a few recently hatched -Acridians. Young as they are, they have already reached the size of my charges. Will -the little Mantes fancy these? They do not fancy them: at the sight of their tiny -prey they run away dismayed. -</p> -<p>Then what do you want? What other game do you find on your native brushwood? I can -see nothing. Can you have some special infants’ food, vegetarian perhaps? Let us even -try the improbable. The very tenderest bit of the heart of a lettuce is declined. -So are the different sorts of grass which I tax my ingenuity in varying; so are the -drops of honey which I place on spikes of lavender. All my endeavours come to nothing; -and my captives die of inanition. -</p> -<p>My failure has its lessons. It seems to point to a transition diet which I have not -been able to discover. Long ago, the larvæ of the Oil-beetles gave me a great deal -of trouble, before I knew that they want as their first food the egg of the Bee whose -store of honey they will afterwards consume. Perhaps the young Mantes also in the -beginning <span class="pageNum" id="pb181">[<a href="#pb181">181</a>]</span>demand a special pap, something more in keeping with their frailty. Despite its resolute -air, I do not quite see the feeble little creature hunting. The game, whatever it -be, kicks out, when attacked, frisks about, defends itself; and the assailant is not -yet in a condition to ward off even the flap of a Midge’s wing. Then what does it -feed on? I should not be surprised if there were interesting facts to be picked up -in this baby-food question. -</p> -<p>These fastidious ones, so difficult to provide with nourishment, meet with even more -pitiful deaths than hunger. When only just born, they fall a prey to the Ant, the -Lizard and other ravagers who lie in wait, patiently, for the exquisite provender -to hatch. The egg itself is not respected. An infinitesimal perforator inserts her -own eggs in the nest through the barrier of solidified foam, thus settling her offspring, -which, maturing earlier, nips the Mantis’ family in the bud. How many are called and -how few are chosen! There were a thousand of them perhaps, sprung from one mother -who was capable of giving birth to three broods. One couple alone escapes extermination, -one alone keeps up the breed, seeing that the number remains <span class="pageNum" id="pb182">[<a href="#pb182">182</a>]</span>more or less the same from year to year. -</p> -<p>Here a serious question arises. Can the Mantis have acquired her present fecundity -by degrees? Can she, as the ravages of the Ant and others reduced her progeny, have -increased the output of her ovaries so as to make up for excessive destruction by -excessive production? Could the enormous brood of to-day be due to the wastage of -former days? So think some, who are ready, without convincing proofs, to see in animals -even more profound changes brought about by circumstances. -</p> -<p>In front of my window, on the sloping margin of the pond, stands a magnificent cherry-tree. -It came there by accident, a sturdy wilding, disregarded by my predecessors and to-day -respected far more for its spreading branches than for its fruit, which is of very -indifferent quality. In April it forms a splendid white-satin dome. Its blossoms are -as snow; their fallen petals carpet the ground. Soon the red cherries appear in profusion. -O my beautiful tree, how lavish you are and what a number of baskets you will fill! -</p> -<p>And for this reason what revelry up <span class="pageNum" id="pb183">[<a href="#pb183">183</a>]</span>above! The Sparrow is the first to hear of the ripe cherries and comes trooping, morning -and evening, to pilfer and squall; he informs his friends in the neighbourhood, the -Greenfinch and the Warbler, who hasten up and banquet for weeks on end. Butterflies -flit from one nibbled cherry to another, taking delicious sips at each. Rose-chafers -bite great mouthfuls out of the fruit, then fall asleep sated. Wasps and Hornets burst -open the sweet caskets; and the Gnats follow to get drunk in their wake. A plump maggot, -settled in the very centre of the pulp, blissfully feasts upon its juicy dwelling-house -and waxes big and fat. It will rise from table to change into a comely Fly. -</p> -<p>On the ground there are others at the banquet. A host of footpads is battening on -the fallen cherries. At night, the Field-mice come gathering the stones stripped by -the Wood-lice, Earwigs, Ants and Slugs; they hoard them in their burrows. During the -long winter they will make holes in them to extract and nibble the kernels. A numberless -throng lives upon the generous cherry-tree. -</p> -<p>What would the tree require to provide a successor one day and maintain its species -<span class="pageNum" id="pb184">[<a href="#pb184">184</a>]</span>in a state of harmonious and well-balanced prosperity? A single seed would be enough; -and every year it gives forth bushels and bushels. Tell me why, please. -</p> -<p>Shall we say that the cherry-tree, at first very economical with its fruit, became -lavish by degrees in order thus to escape its multitudinous ravagers? Shall we say -of the tree, as we said of the Mantis, that excessive destruction gradually induced -excessive production? Who would dare to venture on such rash statements? Is it not -perfectly obvious that the cherry-tree is one of those factories in which elements -are wrought into organic matter, one of those laboratories in which the dead thing -is changed into the thing fitted to live? No doubt, cherries ripen that they may be -perpetuated; but these are the minority, the very small minority. If all seeds were -to sprout and to develop fully, there would long ago have been no room on the earth -for the cherry-tree alone. The vast majority of its fruits fulfil another function. -They serve as food for a crowd of living creatures, who are not skilled as the plant -is in the transcendental chemistry that turns the uneatable into the eatable. -</p> -<p>Matter, in order to serve in the highest <span class="pageNum" id="pb185">[<a href="#pb185">185</a>]</span>manifestations of life, must undergo slow and most delicate elaboration. That elaboration -begins in the workshop of the infinitely small, of the microbe, for instance, one -of which, more powerful than the lightning’s might, combines oxygen and nitrogen and -produces nitrates, the primary food of plants. It begins on the confines of nothingness, -is improved in the vegetal, is yet further refined in the animal and step by step -attains the substance of the brain. -</p> -<p>How many hidden labourers, how many unknown manipulators worked perhaps for centuries, -first at getting the rough ore and then at the refining of that grey matter which -becomes the brain, the most marvellous of the implements of the mind, even if it were -capable only of making us say: -</p> -<p>“Two and two are four!” -</p> -<p>The rocket, when rising, reserves for the culminating point of its ascent the dazzling -fountain of its many-coloured lights. Then all is dark again. Its smoke, its gases, -its oxides will, in the long run, be able to reconstitute other explosives by vegetable -processes. Even so does matter act in its metamorphoses. From stage to stage, from -one delicate refinement to another yet more delicate, <span class="pageNum" id="pb186">[<a href="#pb186">186</a>]</span>it succeeds in attaining heights where the splendours of the intellect shine forth -through its agency; then, shattered by the effort, it relapses into the nameless thing -whence it started, into scattered molecules which are the common origin of living -things. -</p> -<p>At the head of the assemblers of organic matter stands the plant, the animal’s senior. -Directly or indirectly, it is to-day, as it was in the geological period, the chief -purveyor to beings more generously endowed with life. In the laboratory of its cell -the food of the universe at least gets its first rough preparation. Comes the animal, -which corrects the preparation, improves it and transmits it to others of a higher -order. Cropped grass becomes mutton; and mutton becomes human flesh or Wolf-flesh, -according to the consumer. -</p> -<p>Among those elaborators of nourishing atoms which do not create organic matter out -of any- and everything, starting with the mineral, as the plant does, the most prolific -are the fishes, the first-born of vertebrate animals. Ask the Cod what she does with -her millions of eggs. Her answer will be that of the beech with its myriads of nuts, -or the oak with its myriads of acorns. She <span class="pageNum" id="pb187">[<a href="#pb187">187</a>]</span>is immensely fruitful in order to feed an immense number of the hungry. She is continuing -the work which her predecessors performed in remote ages, when nature, not as yet -rich in organic matter, hastened to increase her reserves of life by bestowing prodigious -exuberance upon her primeval workers. -</p> -<p>The Mantis, like the fish, dates back to those distant epochs. Her strange shape and -her uncouth habits have told us so. The richness of her ovaries confirms it. She retains -in her entrails a feeble relic of the procreative fury that prevailed in olden times -under the dank shade of the arborescent ferns; she contributes, in a very humble but -none the less real measure, to the sublime alchemy of living things. -</p> -<p>Let us look closely at her work. The grass grows thick and green, drawing its nourishment -from the earth. The Locust crops it. The Mantis makes a meal of the Locust and swells -out with eggs, which are laid, in three batches, to the number of a thousand. When -they hatch, up comes the Ant and levies an enormous tribute on the brood. We appear -to be retroceding. In vastness of bulk, yes; in refinement of instinct, <span class="pageNum" id="pb188">[<a href="#pb188">188</a>]</span>certainly not. In this respect how far superior is the Ant to the Mantis! Besides, -the cycle of possible happenings is not closed. -</p> -<p>Young Ants still contained in their cocoon—popularly known as Ants’-eggs—form the -food on which the Pheasant’s brood is reared. These are domestic poultry just as much -as the Pullet and the Capon, but their keep makes greater demands on the owner’s care -and purse. When it grows big, this poultry is let loose in the woods; and people calling -themselves civilized take the greatest pleasure in bringing down with their guns the -poor creatures which have lost the instinct of self-preservation in the pheasantries, -or, to speak plainly, in the poultry-yard. You cut the throat of the Chicken required -for roasting; you shoot, with all the parade of sport, that other Chicken, the Pheasant. -I fail to understand those insensate massacres. -</p> -<p>Tartarin of Tarascon, in the absence of game, used to shoot at his cap. I prefer that. -And above all I prefer the hunting, real hunting, of another fervent consumer of Ants, -the Wryneck, the <i>Tiro-lengo</i> of the Provençaux, so-called because of his scientific method of darting his immensely-long -<span class="pageNum" id="pb189">[<a href="#pb189">189</a>]</span>and sticky tongue across a procession of Ants and then suddenly withdrawing it all -black with the limed insects. With such mouthfuls as these, the Wryneck becomes disgracefully -fat in autumn; he plasters himself with butter on his rump and sides and under his -wings; he hangs a string of it round his neck; he pads his skull with it right down -to the beak. -</p> -<p>He is then delicious, roasted: small, I admit; no bigger than a Lark, at the outside; -but, small though he be, unlike anything else and immeasurably superior to the Pheasant, -who must begin to go bad before developing a flavour at all. -</p> -<p>Let me for this once do justice to the merit of the humblest! When the table is cleared -after the evening meal and all is quiet and my body relieved for the time being of -its physiological needs, sometimes I succeed in picking up, here and there, a good -idea or two; and it may well be that the Mantis, the Locust, the Ant and even lesser -creatures contribute to these sudden gleams of light which flash unaccountably into -one’s mind. By strange and devious paths, they have all supplied, in their respective -ways, the drop of oil that feeds the lamp of thought. Their energies, slowly developed, -stored up and <span class="pageNum" id="pb190">[<a href="#pb190">190</a>]</span>handed down by predecessors, become infused into our veins and sustain our weakness. -We live by their death. -</p> -<p>To conclude. The Mantis, prolific to excess, in her turn makes organic matter, bequeathing -it to the Ant, who bequeaths it to the Wryneck, who bequeaths it perhaps to man. She -procreates a thousand, partly to perpetuate her species, but far more than she may -contribute, according to her means, to the general picnic of the living. She brings -us back to the ancient symbol of the Serpent biting its own tail. The world is an -endless circle: everything finishes so that everything may begin again; everything -dies so that everything may live. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb191">[<a href="#pb191">191</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch10" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e292">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER X</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE EMPUSA</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The sea, life’s first foster-mother, still preserves in her depths many of those singular -and incongruous shapes which were the earliest attempts of the animal kingdom; the -land, less fruitful, but with more capacity for progress, has almost wholly lost the -strange forms of other days. The few that remain belong especially to the series of -primitive insects, insects exceedingly limited in their industrial powers and subject -to very summary metamorphoses, if to any at all. In my district, in the front rank -of those entomological anomalies which remind us of the denizens of the old coal-forests, -stand the Mantidæ, including the Praying Mantis, so curious in habits and structure. -Here also is the Empusa (<i lang="la">E. pauperata</i>, <span class="sc">Latr.</span>), the subject of this chapter. -</p> -<p>Her larva is certainly the strangest creature among the terrestrial fauna of Provence: -<span class="pageNum" id="pb192">[<a href="#pb192">192</a>]</span>a slim, swaying thing of so fantastic an appearance that uninitiated fingers dare -not lay hold of it. The children of my neighbourhood, impressed by its startling shape, -call it “the Devilkin.” In their imaginations, the queer little creature savours of -witchcraft. One comes across it, though always sparsely, in spring, up to May; in -autumn; and sometimes in winter, if the sun be strong. The tough grasses of the wastelands, -the stunted bushes which catch the sun and are sheltered from the wind by a few heaps -of stones are the chilly Empusa’s favourite abode. -</p> -<p>Let us give a rapid sketch of her. The abdomen, which always curls up so as to join -the back, spreads paddlewise and twists into a crook. Pointed scales, a sort of foliaceous -expansions arranged in three rows, cover the lower surface, which becomes the upper -surface because of the crook aforesaid. The scaly crook is propped on four long, thin -stilts, on four legs armed with knee-pieces, that is to say, carrying at the end of -the thigh, where it joins the shin, a curved, projecting blade not unlike that of -a cleaver. -</p> -<p>Above this base, this four-legged stool, rises, at a sudden angle, the stiff corselet, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb193">[<a href="#pb193">193</a>]</span>disproportionately long and almost perpendicular. The end of this bust, round and -slender as a straw, carries the hunting-trap, the grappling limbs, copied from those -of the Mantis. They consist of a terminal harpoon, sharper than a needle, and a cruel -vice, with jaws toothed like a saw. The jaw formed by the arm proper is hollowed into -a groove and carries on either side five long spikes, with smaller indentations in -between. The jaw formed by the fore-arm is similarly furrowed, but its double saw, -which fits into the groove of the upper arm when at rest, is formed of finer, closer -and more regular teeth. The magnifying-glass reveals a score of equal points in each -row. The machine only lacks size to be a fearful implement of torture. -</p> -<p>The head is in keeping with this arsenal. What a queer-shaped head it is! A pointed -face, with walrus moustaches furnished by the palpi; large goggle eyes; between them, -a dirk, a halberd blade; and, on the forehead, a mad, unheard-of thing: a sort of -tall mitre, an extravagant head-dress that juts forward, spreading right and left -into peaked wings and cleft along the top. What does the Devilkin want with that monstrous -<span class="pageNum" id="pb194">[<a href="#pb194">194</a>]</span>pointed cap, than which no wise man of the East, no astrologer of old ever wore a -more splendiferous? This we shall learn when we see her out hunting. -</p> -<p>The dress is commonplace; grey tints predominate. Towards the end of the larval period, -after a few moultings, it begins to give a glimpse of the adult’s richer livery and -becomes striped, still very faintly, with pale-green, white and pink. Already the -two sexes are distinguished by their antennæ. Those of the future mothers are thread-like; -those of the future males are distended into a spindle at the lower half, forming -a case or sheath whence graceful plumes will spring at a later date. -</p> -<p>Behold the creature, worthy of a Callot’s<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2292src" href="#xd31e2292">1</a> fantastic pencil. If you come across it in the bramble-bushes, it sways upon its -four stilts, it wags its head, it looks at you with a knowing air, it twists its mitre -round and peers over its shoulder. You seem to read mischief in its pointed face. -You try to take hold of it. The imposing attitude ceases forthwith, the raised corselet -is lowered and <span class="pageNum" id="pb195">[<a href="#pb195">195</a>]</span>the creature makes off with mighty strides, helping itself along with its fighting-limbs, -which clutch the twigs. The flight need not last long, if you have a practised eye. -The Empusa is captured, put into a screw of paper, which will save her frail limbs -from sprains, and lastly penned in a wire-gauze cage. In this way, in October, I obtain -a flock sufficient for my purpose. -</p> -<p>How to feed them? My Devilkins are very little; they are a month or two old at most. -I give them Locusts suited to their size, the smallest that I can find. They refuse -them. Nay more, they are frightened of them. Should a thoughtless Locust meekly approach -one of the Empusæ, suspended by her four hind-legs to the trellised dome, the intruder -meets with a bad reception. The pointed mitre is lowered; and an angry thrust sends -him rolling. We have it: the wizard’s cap is a defensive weapon, a protective crest. -The Ram charges with his forehead, the Empusa butts with her mitre. -</p> -<p>But this does not mean dinner. I serve up the House-fly, alive. She is accepted, without -hesitation. The moment that the Fly comes within reach, the watchful Devilkin turns -her head, bends the stalk of her <span class="pageNum" id="pb196">[<a href="#pb196">196</a>]</span>corselet slantwise and, flinging out her forelimb, harpoons the Fly and grips her -between her two saws. No Cat pouncing upon a Mouse could be quicker. -</p> -<p>The game, however small, is enough for a meal. It is enough for the whole day, often -for several days. This is my first surprise: the extreme abstemiousness of these savagely-armed -insects. I was prepared for ogres: I find ascetics satisfied with a meagre collation -at rare intervals. A Fly fills their belly for twenty-four hours at least. -</p> -<p>Thus passes the late autumn: the Empusæ, more and more temperate from day to day, -hang motionless from the wire gauze. Their natural abstinence is my best ally, for -Flies grow scarce; and a time comes when I should be hard put to it to keep the menageries -supplied with provisions. -</p> -<p>During the three winter months, nothing stirs. From time to time, on fine days, I -expose the cage to the sun’s rays, in the window. Under the influence of this heat-bath, -the captives stretch their legs a little, sway from side to side, make up their minds -to move about, but without displaying any awakening appetite. The rare Midges that -fall to my assiduous efforts do not appear to <span class="pageNum" id="pb197">[<a href="#pb197">197</a>]</span>tempt them. It is a rule for them to spend the cold season in a state of complete -abstinence. -</p> -<p>My cages tell me what must happen outside, during the winter. Ensconced in the crannies -of the rockwork, in the sunniest places, the young Empusæ wait, in a state of torpor, -for the return of the hot weather. Notwithstanding the shelter of a heap of stones, -there must be painful moments when the frost is prolonged and the snow penetrates -little by little into the best-protected crevices. No matter: hardier than they look, -the refugees escape the dangers of the winter season. Sometimes, when the sun is strong, -they venture out of their hiding-place and come to see if spring be nigh. -</p> -<p>Spring comes. We are in March. My prisoners bestir themselves, change their skin. -They need victuals. My catering difficulties recommence. The House-fly, so easy to -catch, is lacking in these days. I fall back upon earlier Diptera: Eristales, or Drone-flies. -The Empusa refuses them. They are too big for her and can offer too strenuous a resistance. -She wards off their approach with blows of her mitre. -</p> -<p>A few tender morsels, in the shape of very <span class="pageNum" id="pb198">[<a href="#pb198">198</a>]</span>young Grasshoppers, are readily accepted. Unfortunately, such wind-falls do not often -find their way into my sweeping-net. Abstinence becomes obligatory until the arrival -of the first Butterflies. Henceforth, <i lang="la">Pieris brassicæ</i>, the White Cabbage Butterfly, will contribute the greater portion of the victuals. -</p> -<p>Let loose in the wire cage, the Pieris is regarded as excellent game. The Empusa lies -in wait for her, seizes her, but releases her at once, lacking the strength to overpower -her. The Cabbage Butterfly’s great wings, beating the air, give her shock after shock -and compel her to let go. I come to the weakling’s assistance and cut the wings of -her prey with my scissors. The maimed ones, still full of life, clamber up the trelliswork -and are forthwith grabbed by the Empusæ, who, in no way frightened by their protests, -crunch them up. The dish is to their taste and, moreover, plentiful, so much so that -there are always some despised remnants. -</p> -<p>The head only and the upper portion of the breast are devoured: the rest—the plump -abdomen, the best part of the thorax, the legs and lastly, of course, the wing-stumps—is -flung aside untouched. Does this mean that <span class="pageNum" id="pb199">[<a href="#pb199">199</a>]</span>the tenderest and most succulent morsels are chosen? No, for the belly is certainly -more juicy; and the Empusa refuses it, though she eats up her House-fly to the last -particle. It is a strategy of war. I am again in the presence of a neck-specialist -as expert as the Mantis herself in the art of swiftly slaying a victim that struggles -and, in struggling, spoils the meal. -</p> -<p>Once warned, I soon perceive that the game, be it Fly, Locust, Grasshopper or Butterfly, -is invariably struck in the neck, from behind. The first bite is aimed at the point -containing the cervical ganglia and produces sudden death or immobility. Complete -inertia will leave the consumer in peace, the essential condition of every satisfactory -repast. -</p> -<p>The Devilkin, therefore, frail though she be, possesses the secret of immediately -destroying the resistance of her prey. She bites at the back of the neck first, in -order to give the finishing stroke. She goes on nibbling around the original attacking-point. -In this way, the Butterfly’s head and the upper part of the breast are disposed of. -But, by that time, the huntress is surfeited: she wants so little! The rest lies on -the <span class="pageNum" id="pb200">[<a href="#pb200">200</a>]</span>ground, disdained, not for lack of flavour, but because there is too much of it. A -Cabbage Butterfly far exceeds the capacity of the Empusa’s stomach. The Ants will -benefit by what is left. -</p> -<p>There is one other matter to be mentioned, before observing the metamorphosis. The -position adopted by the young Empusæ in the wire-gauze cage is invariably the same -from start to finish. Gripping the trelliswork by the claws of its four hind-legs, -the insect occupies the top of the dome and hangs motionless, back downwards, with -the whole of its body supported by the four suspension-points. If it wishes to move, -the front harpoons open, stretch out, grasp a mesh and draw it to them. When the short -walk is over, the lethal arms are brought back against the chest. One may say that -it is nearly always the four hind-shanks which alone support the suspended insect. -</p> -<p>And this reversed position, which seems to us so trying, lasts for no short while: -it is prolonged, in my cages, for ten months without a break. The Fly on the ceiling, -it is true, occupies the same attitude; but she has her moments of rest: she flies, -she walks in a normal posture, she spreads herself flat <span class="pageNum" id="pb201">[<a href="#pb201">201</a>]</span>in the sun. Besides, her acrobatic feats do not cover a long period. The Empusa, on -the other hand, maintains her curious equilibrium for ten months on end, without a -break. Hanging from the trelliswork, back downwards, she hunts, eats, digests, dozes, -casts her skin, undergoes her transformation, mates, lays her eggs and dies. She clambered -up there when she was still quite young; she falls down, full of days, a corpse. -</p> -<p>Things do not happen exactly like this under natural conditions. The insect stands -on the bushes back upwards; it keeps its balance in the regular attitude and turns -over only in circumstances that occur at long intervals. The protracted suspension -of my captives is all the more remarkable inasmuch as it is not at all an innate habit -of their race. -</p> -<p>It reminds one of the Bats, who hang, head downwards, by their hind-legs from the -roof of their caves. A special formation of the toes enables birds to sleep on one -leg, which automatically and without fatigue clutches the swaying bough. The Empusa -shows me nothing akin to their contrivance. The extremity of her walking-legs has -the <span class="pageNum" id="pb202">[<a href="#pb202">202</a>]</span>ordinary structure: a double claw at the tip, a double steelyard-hook; and that is -all. -</p> -<p>I could wish that anatomy would show me the working of the muscles and nerves in those -tarsi, in those legs more slender than threads, the action of the tendons that control -the claws and keep them gripped for ten months, unwearied in waking and sleeping. -If some dexterous scalpel should ever investigate this problem, I can recommend another, -even more singular than that of the Empusa, the Bat and the bird. I refer to the attitude -of certain Wasps and Bees during the night’s rest. -</p> -<p>An Ammophila with red fore-legs (<i lang="la">A. holosericea</i>)<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2346src" href="#xd31e2346">2</a> is plentiful in my enclosure towards the end of August and selects a certain lavender-border -for her dormitory. At dusk, especially after a stifling day, when a storm is brewing, -I am sure to find the strange sleeper settled there. Never was more eccentric attitude -adopted for a night’s rest! The mandibles bite right into the lavender-stem. Its square -shape supplies a firmer hold than a round stalk would do. With this one and only prop, -the animal’s <span class="pageNum" id="pb203">[<a href="#pb203">203</a>]</span>body juts out stiffly, at full length, with legs folded. It forms a right angle with -the supporting axis, so much so that the whole weight of the insect, which has turned -itself into the arm of a lever, rests upon the mandibles. -</p> -<p>The Ammophila sleeps extended in space by virtue of its mighty jaws. It takes an animal -to think of a thing like that, which upsets all our preconceived ideas of repose. -Should the threatening storm burst, should the stalk sway in the wind, the sleeper -is not troubled by her swinging hammock; at most, she presses her fore-legs for a -moment against the tossed mast. As soon as equilibrium is restored, the favourite -posture, that of the horizontal lever, is resumed. Perhaps the mandibles, like the -bird’s toes, possess the faculty of gripping tighter in proportion to the rocking -of the wind. -</p> -<p>The Ammophila is not the only one to sleep in this singular position, which is copied -by many others—Anthidia,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2357src" href="#xd31e2357">3</a> Odyneri,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2363src" href="#xd31e2363">4</a> Euceræ<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2367src" href="#xd31e2367">5</a>—and mainly by the males. All <span class="pageNum" id="pb204">[<a href="#pb204">204</a>]</span>grip a stalk with their mandibles and sleep with their bodies outstretched and their -legs folded back. Some, the stouter species, allow themselves to rest the tip of their -arched abdomen against the pole. -</p> -<p>This visit to the dormitory of certain Wasps and Bees does not explain the problem -of the Empusa; it sets up another one, no less difficult. It shows us how deficient -we are in insight, when it comes to differentiating between fatigue and rest in the -cogs of the animal machine. The Ammophila, with the static paradox afforded by her -mandibles; the Empusa, with her claws unwearied by ten months’ hanging, leave the -physiologist perplexed and make him wonder what really constitutes rest. In absolute -fact, there is no rest, apart from that which puts an end to life. The struggle never -ceases; some muscle is always toiling, some nerve straining. Sleep, which resembles -a return to the peace of non-existence, is, like waking, an effort, here of the leg, -of the curled tail; there of the claw, of the jaws. -</p> -<p>The transformation is effected about the middle of May and the adult Empusa makes -her appearance. She is even more remarkable in figure and attire than the Praying -<span class="pageNum" id="pb205">[<a href="#pb205">205</a>]</span>Mantis. Of her youthful eccentricities, she retains the pointed mitre, the saw-like -arm-guards, the long bust, the knee-pieces, the three rows of scales on the lower -surface of the belly; but the abdomen is now no longer twisted into a crook and the -animal is comelier to look upon. Large pale-green wings, pink at the shoulder and -swift in flight in both sexes, cover the belly, which is striped white and green underneath. -The male, the dandy sex, adorns himself with plumed antennæ, like those of certain -Moths, the Bombyx tribe. In respect of size, he is almost the equal of his mate. -</p> -<p>Save for a few slight structural details, the Empusa is the Praying Mantis. The peasant -confuses them. When, in spring, he meets the mitred insect, he thinks he sees the -common <i lang="fr">Prègo-Diéu</i>, who is a daughter of the autumn. Similar forms would seem to indicate similarity -of habits. In fact, led away by the extraordinary armour, we should be tempted to -attribute to the Empusa a mode of life even more atrocious than that of the Mantis. -I myself thought so at first; and any one, relying upon false analogies, would think -the same. It is a fresh error: for all her warlike aspect, the <span class="pageNum" id="pb206">[<a href="#pb206">206</a>]</span>Empusa is a peaceful creature that hardly repays the trouble of rearing. -</p> -<p>Installed under the gauze bell, whether in assemblies of half-a-dozen or in separate -couples, she at no time loses her placidity. Like the larva, she is very abstemious -and contents herself with a Fly or two as her daily ration. -</p> -<p>Big eaters are naturally quarrelsome. The Mantis, bloated with Locusts, soon becomes -irritated and shows fight. The Empusa, with her frugal meals, does not indulge in -hostile demonstrations. There is no strife among neighbours nor any of those sudden -unfurlings of the wings so dear to the Mantis when she assumes the spectral attitude -and puffs like a startled Adder; never the least inclination for those cannibal banquets -whereat the sister who has been worsted in the fight is devoured. Such atrocities -are here unknown. -</p> -<p>Unknown also are tragic nuptials. The male is enterprising and assiduous and is subjected -to a long trial before succeeding. For days and days, he worries his mate, who ends -by yielding. Due decorum is preserved after the wedding. The feathered groom retires, -respected by his bride, and does his little bit <span class="pageNum" id="pb207">[<a href="#pb207">207</a>]</span>of hunting, without danger of being apprehended and gobbled up. -</p> -<p>The two sexes live together in peace and mutual indifference until the middle of July. -Then the male, grown old and decrepit, takes counsel with himself, hunts no more, -becomes shaky in his walk, creeps down from the lofty heights of the trellised dome -and at last collapses on the ground. His end comes by a natural death. And remember -that the other, the male of the Praying Mantis, ends in the stomach of his gluttonous -spouse. -</p> -<p>The laying follows close upon the disappearance of the males. The Empusa, when about -to build her nest, has not the round belly of the Praying Mantis, rendered heavy and -inactive by her fertility. Her slender figure, still capable of flight, announces -a scanty progeny. Her nest, fixed upon a straw, a twig, a chip of stone, is quite -as small a structure as that of the dwarf Mantis (<i lang="la">Ameles decolor</i>) and measures two-fifths of an inch, at most, in length. The general shape is that -of a trapezoid, of which the shorter sides are, respectively, sloping and slightly -convex. As a rule, the sloping side is surmounted by a thread-like appendage, similar -to the final spur of the nests of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb208">[<a href="#pb208">208</a>]</span>Mantis and the Ameles, but finer in appearance. This is the last drop of viscous matter, -dried and drawn out. Builders, when their work is finished, crown the edifice with -a green bough and coloured streamers. In much the same way, the Mantis tribe set up -a mast on the completed nest. -</p> -<p>A very thin grey-wash, formed of dried foam, covers the Empusa’s work, especially -on the upper surface. Under this delicate glaze, which is easily rubbed off, the fundamental -substance appears, homogeneous, horny, pale-red. Six or seven hardly-perceptible furrows -divide the sides into curved sections. -</p> -<p>After the hatching, a dozen round orifices open on the top of the building, in two -alternate rows. These are the exit-doors for the young larvæ. The slightly projecting -rim is continued from each aperture to the next in a sort of ribbon with a double -row of alternating loops. It is obvious that the windings of this ribbon are the result -of an oscillating movement of the ovipositor in labour. Those exit-holes, so regular -in shape and arrangement, completed by the lateral ribs of the nest, present the appearance -of two dainty mouth-organs placed in <span class="pageNum" id="pb209">[<a href="#pb209">209</a>]</span>juxtaposition. Each of them corresponds with a cell containing two eggs. The eggs -in all, therefore, amount to about a couple of dozen. -</p> -<p>I have not seen the hatching. I do not know whether, as in the Praying Mantis, it -is preceded by a transition-stage adapted to facilitate the delivery. It may easily -be that there is nothing of the kind, since everything is so well-prepared for the -exit. Above the cells is a very short exit-hall, free of any obstacle. It is closed -merely by a small quantity of frothy, crumbly matter, which will readily yield to -the mandibles of the new-born larvæ. With this wide passage leading to the outer air, -long legs and slender antennæ cease to be embarrassing appendages; and the tiny creature -might well have the free use of them from the moment of leaving the egg, without going -through the primary larval stage. Not having seen for myself, I merely mention the -probable course of things. -</p> -<p>One word more on comparative manners. The Mantis goes in for battle and cannibalism; -the Empusa is peaceable and respects her kind. To what cause are these profound moral -differences due, when the organic <span class="pageNum" id="pb210">[<a href="#pb210">210</a>]</span>structure is the same? Perhaps to the difference of diet. Frugality, in fact, softens -character, in animals as in men; gross feeding brutalizes it. The gormandizer gorged -with meat and strong drink, a fruitful source of savage outbursts, could not possess -the gentleness of the ascetic who dips his bread into a cup of milk. The Mantis is -that gormandizer, the Empusa that ascetic. -</p> -<p>Granted. But whence does the one derive her voracious appetite, the other her temperate -ways, when it would seem as though their almost identical structure ought to produce -an identity of needs? These insects tell us, in their fashion, what many have already -told us: that propensities and aptitudes do not depend exclusively upon anatomy; high -above the physical laws that govern matter rise other laws that govern instincts. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb211">[<a href="#pb211">211</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e2292"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2292src">1</a></span> Jacques Callot (1592–1635), the French engraver and painter, famed for the grotesque -nature of his subjects.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2292src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2346"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2346src">2</a></span> Cf. <i>The Hunting Wasps</i>: chap. xiii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2346src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2357"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2357src">3</a></span> Cotton-bees. Cf. <i>Bramble-bees and Others</i>: chap. ix.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2357src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2363"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2363src">4</a></span> A genus of Mason-wasps, the essay on whom has not yet been translated into English.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2363src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2367"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2367src">5</a></span> A species of Burrowing Bees.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2367src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch11" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e302">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XI</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE WHITE-FACED DECTICUS: HIS HABITS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The White-faced Decticus (<i lang="la">D. albifrons</i>, <span class="sc">Fabr.</span>) stands at the head of the Grasshopper clan in my district, both as a singer and -as an insect of imposing presence. He has a grey costume, a pair of powerful mandibles -and a broad ivory face. Without being plentiful, he does not let himself be sought -in vain. In the height of summer we find him hopping in the long grass, especially -at the foot of the sunny rocks where the turpentine-tree takes root. -</p> -<p>At the end of July I start a Decticus-menagerie. As a vivarium I adopt a big wire-gauze -cover standing on a bed of sifted earth. The population numbers a dozen; and both -sexes are equally represented. -</p> -<p>The question of victuals perplexes me for some time. It seems as though the regulation -diet ought to be a vegetable one, to judge by the Locust, who consumes any <span class="pageNum" id="pb212">[<a href="#pb212">212</a>]</span>green thing. I therefore offer my captives the tastiest and tenderest garden-stuff -that my enclosure holds: leaves of lettuce, chicory and corn-salad. The Dectici scarcely -touch it with a contemptuous tooth. It is not the food for them. -</p> -<p>Perhaps something tough would suit their strong mandibles better. I try various Graminaceæ, -including the glaucous panic-grass, the <i>miauco</i> of the Provençal peasant, the <i lang="la">Setaria glauca</i> of the botanists, a weed that infests the fields after the harvest. The panic-grass -is accepted by the hungry ones, but it is not the leaves that they devour: they attack -only the ears, of which they crunch the still tender seeds with visible satisfaction. -The food is found, at least for the time being. We shall see later. -</p> -<p>In the morning, when the rays of the sun visit the cage placed in the window of my -study, I serve out the day’s ration, a sheaf of green spikes of common grass picked -outside my door. The Dectici come running up to the handful, gather round it and, -very peaceably, without quarrelling among themselves, dig with their mandibles between -the bristles of the spikes to extract and nibble the unripe seeds. Their costume makes -one <span class="pageNum" id="pb213">[<a href="#pb213">213</a>]</span>think of a flock of Guinea-fowl pecking the grain scattered by the farmer’s wife. -When the spikes are robbed of their tender seeds, the rest is scorned, however urgent -the claims of hunger may be. -</p> -<p>To break the monotony of the diet as much as is possible in these dog-days, when everything -is burnt up, I gather a thick-leaved, fleshy plant which is not too sensitive to the -summer heat. This is the common purslane, another invader of our garden-beds. The -new green stuff meets with a good reception; and once again the Dectici dig their -teeth not into the leaves and the juicy stalks, but only into the swollen capsules -of half-formed grains. -</p> -<p>This taste for tender seeds surprises me: <span class="trans" title="dēktikos"><span lang="grc" class="grek">δηκτικός</span></span>, biting, fond of biting, the lexicon tells us. A name that expresses nothing, a mere -identification-number, is able to satisfy the nomenclator; in my opinion, if the name -possesses a characteristic meaning and at the same time sounds well, it is all the -better for it. Such is the case here. The Decticus is eminently an insect given to -biting. Mind your finger if the sturdy Grasshopper gets hold of it: he will rip it -till the blood comes. -</p> -<p>And can this powerful jaw, of which I <span class="pageNum" id="pb214">[<a href="#pb214">214</a>]</span>have to beware when I handle the creature, possess no other function than to chew -soft grains? Can a mill like this have only to grind little unripe seeds? Something -has escaped me. So well-armed with mandibular pincers, so well-endowed with masticatory -muscles that swell out his cheeks, the Decticus must cut up some leathery prey. -</p> -<p>This time I find the real diet, the fundamental if not the exclusive one. Some good-sized -Locusts are let into the cage. I put in it the species mentioned in a note below,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2459src" href="#xd31e2459">1</a> now one, now the other, as they happen to get caught in my net. A few Grasshoppers<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2500src" href="#xd31e2500">2</a> are also accepted, but not so readily. There is every reason to think that, if I -had had the luck to capture them, the entire Locust and Grasshopper family would have -met the same fate, provided that they were not too insignificant in size. -</p> -<p>Any fresh meat tasting of Locust or Grasshopper suits my ogres. The most frequent -victim is the Blue-winged Locust. <span class="pageNum" id="pb215">[<a href="#pb215">215</a>]</span>There is a deplorably large consumption of this species in the cage. This is how things -happen: as soon as the game is introduced, an uproar ensues in the mess-room, especially -if the Dectici have been fasting for some time. They stamp about and, hampered by -their long shanks, dart forward clumsily; the Locusts make desperate bounds, rush -to the top of the cage and there hang on, out of the reach of the Grasshopper, who -is too stout to climb so high. Some are seized at once, as soon as they enter. The -others, who have taken refuge up in the dome, are only postponing for a little while -the fate that awaits them. Their turn will come; and that soon. Either because they -are tired or because they are tempted by the green stuff below, they will come down; -and the Dectici will be after them immediately. -</p> -<p>Speared by the hunter’s fore-legs, the game is first wounded in the neck. It is always -there, behind the head, that the Locust’s shell cracks first of all; it is always -there that the Decticus probes persistently before releasing his hold and taking his -subsequent meals off whatever joint he chooses. -</p> -<p>It is a very judicious bite. The Locust is hard to kill. Even when beheaded, he goes -<span class="pageNum" id="pb216">[<a href="#pb216">216</a>]</span>on hopping. I have seen some who, though half-eaten, kick out desperately and succeed, -with a supreme effort, in releasing themselves and jumping away. In the brushwood, -that would be so much game lost. -</p> -<p>The Decticus seems to know all about it. To overcome his prey, so prompt to escape -by means of its two powerful levers, and to render it helpless as quickly as possible, -he first munches and extirpates the cervical ganglia, the main seat of innervation. -Is this an accident, in which the assassin’s choice plays no part? No, for I see the -murder performed invariably in the same way when the prey is in possession of its -full strength; and again no, because, when the Locust is offered in the form of a -fresh corpse, or when he is weak, dying, incapable of defence, the attack is made -anywhere, at the first spot that presents itself to the assailant’s jaws. In such -cases the Decticus begins either with a haunch, the favourite morsel, or with the -belly, back or chest. The preliminary bite in the neck is reserved for difficult occasions. -</p> -<p>This Grasshopper, therefore, despite his dull intellect, possesses the art of killing -scientifically of which we have seen so many <span class="pageNum" id="pb217">[<a href="#pb217">217</a>]</span>instances elsewhere;<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2537src" href="#xd31e2537">3</a> but with him it is a rude art, falling within the knacker’s rather than the anatomist’s -domain. -</p> -<p>Two or three Blue-winged Locusts are none too many for a Decticus’ daily ration. It -all goes down, save the wings and wing-cases, which are disdained as too tough. In -addition, there is a snack of tender millet-grains stolen every now and again to make -a change from the banquet of game. They are big eaters, are my boarders; they surprise -me with their gormandizing and even more with their easy change from an animal to -a vegetable diet. -</p> -<p>With their accommodating and anything but particular stomachs, they could render some -slight service to agriculture, if there were more of them. They destroy the Locusts, -many of whom, even in our fields, are of ill fame; and they nibble, amid the unripe -corn, the seeds of a number of plants which are obnoxious to the husbandman. -</p> -<p>But the Decticus’ claim to the honours of the vivarium rests upon something much better -than his feeble assistance in preserving the fruits of the earth: in his song, his -nuptials <span class="pageNum" id="pb218">[<a href="#pb218">218</a>]</span>and his habits we have a memorial of the remotest times. -</p> -<p>How did the insect’s ancestors live, in the palæozoic age? They had their crude and -uncouth side, banished from the better-proportioned fauna of to-day; we catch a vague -glimpse of habits now almost out of use. It is unfortunate for our curiosity that -the fossil remains are silent on this magnificent subject. -</p> -<p>Luckily we have one resource left, that of consulting the successors of the prehistoric -insects. There is reason to believe that the Locustids<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2554src" href="#xd31e2554">4</a> of our own period have retained an echo of the ancient customs and can tell us something -of the manners of olden time. Let us begin by questioning the Decticus. -</p> -<p>In the vivarium the sated herd are lying on their bellies in the sun and blissfully -digesting their food, giving no other sign of life than a gentle swaying of the antennæ. -It is the hour of the after-dinner nap, the hour of enervating heat. From time to -time a male gets up, strolls solemnly about, raises his wing-cases slightly and utters -an occasional <span class="pageNum" id="pb219">[<a href="#pb219">219</a>]</span><i>tick-tick</i>. Then he becomes more animated, hurries the pace of his tune and ends by grinding -out the finest piece in his repertoire. -</p> -<p>Is he celebrating his wedding? Is his song an epithalamium? I will make no such statement, -for his success is poor if he is really making an appeal to his fair neighbours. Not -one of his group of hearers gives a sign of attention. Not a female stirs, not one -moves from her comfortable place in the sun. Sometimes the solo becomes a concerted -piece sung by two or three in chorus. The multiple invitation succeeds no better. -True, their impassive ivory faces give no indication of their real feelings. If the -suitors’ ditty indeed exercises any sort of seduction, no outward sign betrays the -fact. -</p> -<p>According to all appearances, the clicking is addressed to heedless ears. It rises -in a passionate crescendo until it becomes a continuous rattle. It ceases when the -sun vanishes behind a cloud and starts afresh when the sun shows itself again; but -it leaves the ladies indifferent. -</p> -<p>She who was lying with her shanks outstretched on the blazing sand does not change -her position; her antennary threads <span class="pageNum" id="pb220">[<a href="#pb220">220</a>]</span>give not a quiver more and not a quiver less; she who was gnawing the remains of a -Locust does not let go the morsel, does not lose a mouthful. To look at those heartless -ones, you would really say that the singer was making a noise for the mere pleasure -of feeling himself alive. -</p> -<p>It is a very different matter when, towards the end of August, I witness the start -of the wedding. The couple finds itself standing face to face quite casually, without -any lyrical prelude whatever. Motionless, as though turned to stone, with their foreheads -almost touching, the two exchange caresses with their long antennæ, fine as hairs. -The male seems somewhat preoccupied. He washes his tarsi; with the tips of his mandibles -he tickles the soles of his feet. From time to time he gives a stroke of the bow: -<i>tick</i>; no more. -</p> -<p>Yet one would think that this was the very moment at which to make the most of his -strong points. Why not declare his flame in a fond couplet, instead of standing there, -scratching his feet? Not a bit of it. He remains silent in front of the coveted bride, -herself impassive. -</p> -<p>The interview, a mere exchange of greetings <span class="pageNum" id="pb221">[<a href="#pb221">221</a>]</span>between friends of different sexes, does not last long. What do they say to each other, -forehead to forehead? Not much, apparently, for soon they separate with nothing further; -and each goes his way where he pleases. -</p> -<p>Next day, the same two meet again. This time, the song, though still very brief, is -in a louder key than on the day before, while being still very far from the burst -of sound to which the Decticus will give utterance long before the pairing. For the -rest, it is a repetition of what I saw yesterday: mutual caresses with the antennæ, -which limply pat the well-rounded sides. -</p> -<p>The male does not seem greatly enraptured. He again nibbles his foot and seems to -be reflecting. Alluring though the enterprise may be, it is perhaps not unattended -with danger. Can there be a nuptial tragedy here, similar to that which the Praying -Mantis has shown us? Can the business be exceptionally grave? Have patience and you -shall see. For the moment, nothing more happens. -</p> -<p>A few days later, a little light is thrown upon the subject. The male is underneath, -lying flat on the sand and towered over by <span class="pageNum" id="pb222">[<a href="#pb222">222</a>]</span>his powerful spouse, who, with her sabre exposed, standing high on her hind-legs, -overwhelms him with her embrace. No, indeed: in this posture the poor Decticus has -nothing of the victor about him! The other, brutally, without respecting the musical-box, -is forcing open his wing-cases and nibbling his flesh just where the belly begins. -</p> -<p>Which of the two takes the initiative here? Have not the parts been reversed? She -who is usually provoked is now the provoker, employing rude caresses capable of carrying -off the morsel touched. She has not yielded to him; she has thrust herself upon him, -disturbingly, imperiously. He, lying flat on the ground, quivers and starts, seems -trying to resist. What outrageous thing is about to happen? I shall not know to-day. -The floored male releases himself and runs away. -</p> -<p>But this time, at last, we have it. Master Decticus is on the ground, tumbled over -on his back. Hoisted to the full height of her shanks, the other, holding her sabre -almost perpendicular, covers her prostrate mate from a distance. The two ventral extremities -curve into a hook, seek each other, meet; and soon from the male’s convulsive loins -there <span class="pageNum" id="pb223">[<a href="#pb223">223</a>]</span>is seen to issue, in painful labour, something monstrous and unheard-of, as though -the creature were expelling its entrails in a lump. -</p> -<p>It is an opalescent bag, similar in size and colour to a mistletoe-berry, a bag with -four pockets marked off by faint grooves, two larger ones above and two smaller ones -below. In certain cases the number of cells increases and the whole assumes the appearance -of a packet of eggs such as <i lang="la">Helix aspersa</i>, the Common Snail, lays in the ground. -</p> -<p>The strange concern remains hanging from the lower end of the sabre of the future -mother, who solemnly retires with the extraordinary wallet, the spermatophore, as -the physiologists call it, the source of life for the ovules, in other words the cruet -which will now in due course transmit to the proper place the necessary complement -for the evolution of the germs. -</p> -<p>A capsule of this kind is a rare, an infinitely rare thing in the world of to-day. -So far as I know, the Cephalopods<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2599src" href="#xd31e2599">5</a> and the Scolopendras<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2603src" href="#xd31e2603">6</a> are, in our time, the only <span class="pageNum" id="pb224">[<a href="#pb224">224</a>]</span>other animals that make use of the queer apparatus. Now Octopuses and Millepedes date -back to the earliest ages. The Decticus, another representative of the old world, -seems to tell us that what is a curious exception now might well have been a more -or less general rule originally, all the more so as we shall come upon similar incidents -in the case of the other Grasshoppers. -</p> -<p>When the male has recovered from his shock, he shakes the dust off himself and once -more begins his merry click-clack. For the present let us leave him to his joys and -follow the mother that is to be, pacing along solemnly with her burden, which is fastened -with a plug of jelly as transparent as glass. -</p> -<p>At intervals she draws herself up on her shanks, curls into a ring and seizes her -opalescent load in her mandibles, nibbling it calmly and squeezing it, but without -tearing the wrapper or shedding any of the contents. Each time, she removes from the -surface a particle which she chews and then chews again slowly, ending by swallowing -it. -</p> -<p>This process is continued for twenty minutes or so. Then the capsule, now drained, -is torn off in a single piece, all but the jelly plug at the end. The huge, sticky -<span class="pageNum" id="pb225">[<a href="#pb225">225</a>]</span>mass is not let go for a moment, but is munched, ground and kneaded by the insect’s -mandibles and at last gulped down whole. -</p> -<p>At first I looked upon the horrible banquet as no more than an individual aberration, -an accident: the Decticus’ behaviour was so extraordinary; no other instance of it -was known to me. But I have had to yield to the evidence of the facts. Four times -in succession I surprised my captives dragging their wallet and four times I saw them -soon tear it, work at it solemnly with their mandibles for hours on end and finally -gulp it down. It is therefore the rule: when its contents have reached their destination, -the fertilizing capsule, possibly a powerful stimulant, an unparalleled dainty, is -chewed, enjoyed and swallowed. -</p> -<p>If this, as we are entitled to believe, is a relic of ancient manners, we must admit -that the insect of old had singular customs. Réaumur tells us of the startling operations -of the Dragon-flies when pairing. This again is a nuptial eccentricity of primeval -times. -</p> -<p>When the Decticus has finished her strange feast, the end of the apparatus still remains -in its place, the end whose most visible <span class="pageNum" id="pb226">[<a href="#pb226">226</a>]</span>part consists of two crystalline nipples the size of pepper-corns. To rid itself of -this plug, the insect assumes a curious attitude. The ovipositor is driven half-way -into the earth, perpendicularly. That will be the prop. The long hind-legs straighten -out, raise the creature as high as possible and form a tripod with the sabre. -</p> -<p>Then the insect again curves itself into a complete circle and, with its mandibles, -crumbles to atoms the end of the apparatus, consisting of a plug of clearest jelly. -All these remnants are scrupulously swallowed. Not a scrap must be lost. Lastly, the -ovipositor is washed, wiped, smoothed with the tips of the palpi. Everything is put -in order again; nothing remains of the cumbrous load. The normal pose is resumed and -the Decticus goes back to pilfering the ears of millet. -</p> -<p>To return to the male. Limp and exhausted, as though shattered by his exploit, he -remains where he is, all shrivelled and shrunk. He is so motionless that I believe -him dead. Not a bit of it! The gallant fellow recovers his spirits, picks himself -up, polishes himself and goes off. A quarter of an hour later, when he has taken a -few mouthfuls, <span class="pageNum" id="pb227">[<a href="#pb227">227</a>]</span>behold him stridulating once more. The tune is certainly lacking in spirit. It is -far from being as brilliant or prolonged as it was before the wedding; but, after -all, the poor old crock is doing his best. -</p> -<p>Can he have any further amorous pretensions? It is hardly likely. Affairs of that -kind, calling for ruinous expenditure, are not to be repeated: it would be too much -for the works of the organism. Nevertheless, next day and every day after, when a -diet of Locusts has duly renewed his strength, the Decticus scrapes his bow as noisily -as ever. He might be a novice, instead of a glutted veteran. His persistence surprises -me. -</p> -<p>If he be really singing to attract the attention of his fair neighbours, what would -he do with a second wife, he who has just extracted from his paunch a monstrous wallet -in which all life’s savings were accumulated? He is thoroughly used up. No, once more, -in the big Grasshopper these things are too costly to be done all over again. To-day’s -song, despite its gladness, is certainly no epithalamium. -</p> -<p>And, if you watch him closely, you will see that the singer no longer responds to -the <span class="pageNum" id="pb228">[<a href="#pb228">228</a>]</span>teasing of the passers’ antennæ. The ditties become fainter from day to day and occur -less frequently. In a fortnight the insect is dumb. The dulcimer no longer sounds, -for lack of vigour in the player. -</p> -<p>At last the decrepit Decticus, who now scarcely touches food, seeks a peaceful retreat, -sinks to the ground exhausted, stretches out his shanks in a last throe and dies. -As it happens, the widow passes that way, sees the deceased and, breathing eternal -remembrance, gnaws off one of his thighs. -</p> -<p>The Green Grasshopper behaves similarly. A couple isolated in a cage are subjected -to a special watch. I am present at the end of the pairing, when the future mother -is carrying, fixed to the point of her sword, the pretty raspberry which will occupy -our attention later.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2636src" href="#xd31e2636">7</a> Debilitated by recent happenings, the male at this moment is mute. Next day, his -strength returns; and you hear him singing as ardently as ever. He stridulates while -the mother is scattering her eggs over the ground; he goes on making a noise long -after the laying is done and when nothing more is wanted to perpetuate the race. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb229">[<a href="#pb229">229</a>]</span></p> -<p>It is quite clear that this persistent singing has not an amorous appeal for its object: -by this time, all of that is over, quite over. Lastly, one day or another, life fails -and the instrument is dumb. The eager singer is no more. The survivor gives him a -funeral copied from that of the Decticus: she devours the best bits of him. She loved -him so much that she had to eat him up. -</p> -<p>These cannibal habits recur in most of the Grasshopper tribe, without however equalling -the atrocities of the Praying Mantis, who treats her lovers as dead game while they -are still full of life. The Decticus mother, the Green Grasshopper and the rest at -least wait until the poor wretches are dead. -</p> -<p>I will except the Ephippiger, who is so meek in appearance. In my cage, when laying-time -is at hand, she has no scruples about taking a bite at her companions, without possessing -the excuse of hunger. Most of the males end in this lamentable fashion, half-devoured. -The mutilated victim protests; he would rather, he could indeed go on living. Having -no other means of defence, he produces with his bow a few grating sounds which this -time decidedly are not a nuptial song. Dying with a great hole in his belly, he utters -his <span class="pageNum" id="pb230">[<a href="#pb230">230</a>]</span>plaint in a like manner as though he were rejoicing in the sun. His instrument strikes -the same note whether it express sorrow or gladness. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb231">[<a href="#pb231">231</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e2459"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2459src">1</a></span> <i lang="la">Œdipoda cærulescens</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>; <i lang="la">Œ. miniata</i>, <span class="sc">Pallas</span>; <i lang="la">Sphingonotus cærulans</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>; <i lang="la">Caloptenus italicus</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>; <i lang="la">Pachytylus nigrofasciatus</i>, <span class="sc">de Geer</span>; <i lang="la">Truxalis nasuta</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2459src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2500"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2500src">2</a></span> <i lang="la">Conocephalus mandibularis</i>, <span class="sc">Charp.</span>; <i lang="la">Platycleis intermedia</i>, <span class="sc">Serv.</span>; <i lang="la">Ephippigea vitium</i>, <span class="sc">Serv.</span>—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2500src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2537"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2537src">3</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life of the Spider</i> and <i>The Hunting Wasps: passim.</i>—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2537src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2554"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2554src">4</a></span> An orthopterous family which includes the Grasshoppers, but not the Locusts. The latter -are Acridians.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2554src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2599"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2599src">5</a></span> The class of molluscs containing the Squids, Cuttlefish, Octopus, etc.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2599src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2603"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2603src">6</a></span> A genus of Myriapods including the typical Centipedes.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2603src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2636"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2636src">7</a></span> Cf. Chapter XIV. of the present volume.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2636src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch12" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e313">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XII</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE WHITE-FACED DECTICUS: THE LAYING AND THE HATCHING OF THE EGGS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The White-faced Decticus is an African insect that in France hardly ventures beyond -the borders of Provence and Languedoc. She wants the sun that ripens the olives. Can -it be that a high temperature acts as a stimulus to her matrimonial eccentricities, -or are we to look upon these as family customs, independent of climate? Do things -happen under frosty skies just as they do under a burning sun? -</p> -<p>I go for my information to another Decticus, the Alpine Analota (<i lang="la">A. alpina</i>, <span class="sc">Yersin</span>), who inhabits the high ridges of Mont Ventoux,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2663src" href="#xd31e2663">1</a> which are covered with snow for half the year. Many a time, during my old botanical -expeditions, I had noticed the <span class="pageNum" id="pb232">[<a href="#pb232">232</a>]</span>portly insect hopping among the stones from one bit of turf to the next. This time, -I do not go in search of it: it reaches me by post. Following my indications, an obliging -forester<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2671src" href="#xd31e2671">2</a> climbs up there twice in the first fortnight of August and brings me back the wherewithal -to fill a cage comfortably. -</p> -<p>In shape and colouring it is a curious specimen of the Grasshopper family. Satin-white -underneath, it has the upper part sometimes olive-black, sometimes bright-green or -pale-brown. The organs of flight are reduced to mere vestiges. The female has as wing-cases -two short white scales, some distance apart; the male shelters under the edge of his -corselet two little concave plates, also white, but laid one on top of the other, -the left on the right. -</p> -<p>These two tiny cupolas, with bow and sounding-board, rather suggest, on a smaller -scale, the musical instrument of the Ephippiger, whom the mountain insect resembles -to some extent in general appearance. -</p> -<p>I do not know what sort of tune cymbals so small as these can produce. I do not remember -ever hearing them in their native <span class="pageNum" id="pb233">[<a href="#pb233">233</a>]</span>haunts; and three months’ home breeding gives me no further information in this respect. -Though they lead a joyous life, my captives are always dumb. -</p> -<p>The exiles do not seem greatly to regret their cold peaks, among the orange poppies -and saxifrages of arctic climes. What used they to browse upon up there? The Alpine -meadow-grass, Mont-Cenis violets, Allioni’s bell-flower? I do not know. In the absence -of Alpine grasses, I give them the common endive from my garden. They accept it without -hesitation. -</p> -<p>They also accept such Locusts as can offer only a feeble resistance; and the diet -alternates between animal and vegetable fare. They even practise cannibalism. If one -of my Alpine visitors limps and drags a leg, the others eat him up. So far I have -seen nothing striking: these are the usual Grasshopper manners. -</p> -<p>The interesting sight is the pairing, which occurs suddenly, without any prelude. -The meeting takes place sometimes on the ground, sometimes on the wirework of the -cage. In the latter case, the sword-bearer, firmly hooked to the trellis, supports -the whole weight of the couple. The other is back <span class="pageNum" id="pb234">[<a href="#pb234">234</a>]</span>downwards, his head pointing to his mate’s tail. With his long, fleshy-shanked hind-legs, -he gets a grip of her sides; with his four front legs, often also with his mandibles, -he grasps and squeezes the sabre, which projects slantwise. Thus hanging to this sort -of greased pole, he operates in space. -</p> -<p>When the meeting takes place on the ground, the couple occupy the same position, only -the male is lying on his back in the sand. In both cases the result is an opal grain -which, in the visible part of it, resembles in shape and size the swollen end of a -grape-pip. -</p> -<p>As soon as this object is in position, the male decamps at full speed. Can he be in -danger? Possibly, to judge from what I have seen. I admit that I have seen it only -once. -</p> -<p>The bride in this case was grappling with two rivals. One of them, hanging to the -sabre, was at work in due form behind; the other, in front, tightly clawed and with -his belly ripped open, was waving his limbs in vain protest against the harpy crunching -him impassively in small mouthfuls. I had before my eyes, under even more atrocious -conditions, the horrors which the Praying Mantis had shown me in the old days: unbridled -<span class="pageNum" id="pb235">[<a href="#pb235">235</a>]</span>rut; carnage and voluptuousness in one; a reminiscence perhaps of ancient savagery. -</p> -<p>As a rule, the male, a dwarf by comparison with the female, hastens to run away as -soon as his task is consummated. The deserted one makes no movement. Then, after waiting -twenty minutes or so, she curves herself into a ring and proceeds to enjoy the final -banquet. She pulls the sticky raisin-pip into shreds which are chewed with grave appreciation -and then gulped down. It takes her more than an hour to swallow the thing. When not -a crumb remains, she descends from the wire gauze and mingles with the herd. Her eggs -will be laid in a day or two. -</p> -<p>The proof is established. The matrimonial habits of the White-faced Decticus are not -an exception due to the heat of the climate: the Grasshopper from the cold peaks shares -them and surpasses them. -</p> -<p>We will return to the big Decticus with the ivory face. The laying follows close upon -the strange events which we have described. It is done piecemeal, as the ovaries ripen. -Firmly planted on her six legs, the mother bends her abdomen into a semicircle and -drives her sabre perpendicularly into the <span class="pageNum" id="pb236">[<a href="#pb236">236</a>]</span>soil, which, consisting in my cages of sifted earth, presents no serious resistance. -The ovipositor therefore descends without hesitation and enters up to the hilt, that -is to say, to a depth of about an inch. -</p> -<p>For nearly fifteen minutes, absolute immobility. This is the time when the eggs are -being laid. At last the sabre comes up a little way and the abdomen swings briskly -from side to side, communicating an alternate transversal movement to the implement. -This tends to scrape out and widen the sunken hole; it also has the effect of releasing -from the walls earthy materials which fill up the bottom of the cavity. Thereupon -the ovipositor, which is half in and half out, rams down this dust. It comes up a -short distance and then dips repeatedly, with a sudden, jerky movement. We should -work in the same way with a stick to ram down the earth in a perpendicular hole. Thus -alternating the transversal swing of the sabre with the blows of the rammer, the mother -covers up the well pretty quickly. -</p> -<p>The external traces of the work have still to be done away with. The insect’s legs, -which I expected to see brought into play, remain inactive and keep the position <span class="pageNum" id="pb237">[<a href="#pb237">237</a>]</span>adopted for laying the eggs. The sabre alone scratches, sweeps and smooths the ground -with its point, very clumsily, it must be admitted. -</p> -<p>Now all is in order. The abdomen and the ovipositor are restored to their normal positions. -The mother allows herself a moment’s rest and goes to take a turn in the neighbourhood. -Soon she comes back to the site where she has already laid her eggs and, very near -the original spot, which she recognizes clearly, she drives in her tool afresh. The -same proceedings as before are repeated. -</p> -<p>Follow another rest, another exploration of the vicinity, another return to the place -already sown. For the third time the pointed stake descends, only a very slight distance -away from the previous hole. During the brief hour that I am watching her, I see her -resume her laying five times, after breaking off to take a little stroll in the neighbourhood; -and the points selected are always very close together. -</p> -<p>On the following days, at varying intervals, the sowing is renewed for a certain number -of times which I am not able to state exactly. In the case of each of these partial -<span class="pageNum" id="pb238">[<a href="#pb238">238</a>]</span>layings, the site changes, now here, now there, as this or that spot is deemed the -more propitious. -</p> -<p>When everything is finished, I examine the little pits in which the Decticus placed -her eggs. There are no packets in a foamy sheath, such as the Locust supplies; no -cells either. The eggs lie singly, without any protection. I gather three score as -the total product of one mother. They are of a pale lilac-grey and are drawn out shuttlewise, -in a narrow ellipsoid five or six millimetres long.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2713src" href="#xd31e2713">3</a> -</p> -<p>The same isolation marks those of the Grey Decticus, which are black; those of the -Vine Ephippiger, which are ashen-grey; and those of the Alpine Analota, which are -pale-lilac. The eggs of the Green Grasshopper, which are a very dark olive-brown and, -like those of the White-faced Decticus, about sixty in number, are sometimes arranged -singly and sometimes stuck together in little clusters. -</p> -<p>These different examples show us that the Grasshoppers plant with a dibble. Instead -of packing their seeds in little casks of hardened foam, like the Locusts, they put -<span class="pageNum" id="pb239">[<a href="#pb239">239</a>]</span>them into the earth one by one or in very small clusters. -</p> -<p>The hatching is worth examination; I will explain why presently. I therefore gather -plenty of eggs of the big Decticus at the end of August and place them in a small -glass jar with a layer of sand. Without undergoing any apparent modification, they -spend eight months here under cover, sheltered from the frosts, the showers and the -overpowering heat of the sun that would await them under natural conditions. -</p> -<p>When June comes, I often meet young Dectici in the fields. Some are already half their -adult size, which is evidence of an early appearance dating back to the first fine -days of the year. Nevertheless my jar shows no signs of any imminent hatching. I find -the eggs just as I gathered them nine months ago, neither wrinkled nor tarnished, -wearing, on the contrary, a most healthy look. What causes this indefinitely prolonged -delay? -</p> -<p>A suspicion occurs to me. The eggs of the Grasshopper tribe are planted in the earth -like seeds. They are there exposed, without any kind of protection, to the watery -influence of the snow and the rain. Those <span class="pageNum" id="pb240">[<a href="#pb240">240</a>]</span>in my jar have spent two-thirds of the year in a state of comparative dryness. Perhaps, -in order to hatch, they lack what grain absolutely needs in order to sprout. Animal -seeds as they are, they may yet require under earth the moisture necessary to vegetable -seeds. Let us try. -</p> -<p>I place at the bottom of some glass tubes, to enable me to make certain observations -which I have in mind, a pinch of backward eggs taken from my collection; and on the -top I heap lightly a layer of very fine, damp sand. The receptacle is closed with -a plug of wet cotton, which will maintain a constant moisture in the interior. The -column of sand measures about an inch, which is very much the depth at which the ovipositor -places the eggs. Any one seeing my preparations and unacquainted with their object -would hardly suspect them of being incubators; he would be more likely to think them -the apparatus of a botanist who was experimenting with seeds. -</p> -<p>My anticipation was correct. Favoured by the high temperature of the summer solstice, -the Grasshopper seed does not take long to sprout. The eggs swell; the front end of -each is spotted with two dark dots, <span class="pageNum" id="pb241">[<a href="#pb241">241</a>]</span>the rudiments of the eyes. It is quite evident that the bursting of the shell is near -at hand. -</p> -<p>I spend a fortnight in keeping a tedious watch at every hour of the day: I have to -surprise the young Decticus actually leaving the egg, if I want to solve a question -that has long been vexing my mind. The question is this: the Grasshopper’s egg is -buried at a varying depth, according to the length of the ovipositor or dibble. An -inch is about the most for the seeds of the best-equipped insects in our parts. Now -the newborn Decticus, hopping awkwardly in the grass at the approach of summer, is, -like the adult, endowed with a pair of very long tentacles, vying with hairs for slenderness; -he carries behind him two extraordinary legs, two enormous hinged levers, a pair of -jumping-stilts that would be very inconvenient for ordinary walking. How does the -feeble little creature set to work, with this cumbrous luggage, to emerge from the -earth? By what artifice does it manage to clear a passage through the rough soil? -With its antennary plumes, which an atom of sand can break, with its immense shanks, -which the least effort is enough to <span class="pageNum" id="pb242">[<a href="#pb242">242</a>]</span>disjoint, the mite is obviously incapable of reaching the surface and freeing itself. -</p> -<p>The miner going underground puts on a protective dress. The little Grasshopper also, -making a hole in the earth in the opposite direction, must don an overall for emerging -from the earth; he must possess a simpler, more compact transition-form, which enables -him to come out through the sand, a delivery-shape analogous to that which the Cicada -and the Praying Mantis use at the moment of issuing, one from his twig, the other -from the labyrinth of his nest. -</p> -<p>Reality and logic here agree. The Decticus, in point of fact, does not leave the egg -in the form in which I see him, the day after his birth, hopping on the lawn; he possesses -a temporary structure better-suited to the difficulties of the emergence. Coloured -a delicate flesh-white, the tiny creature is cased in a scabbard which keeps the six -legs flattened against the abdomen, stretching backwards, inert. In order to slip -more easily under the ground, he has his shanks tied up beside his body. The antennæ, -those other irksome appendages, are motionless, pressed against the parcel. -</p> -<p>The head is very much bent against the <span class="pageNum" id="pb243">[<a href="#pb243">243</a>]</span>chest. With its big, black ocular specks and its undecided and rather bloated mask, -it suggests a diver’s helmet. The neck opens wide at the back and, with a slow throbbing, -by turns swells and subsides. That is the motor. The new-born insect moves along with -the aid of its occipital hernia. When uninflated, the fore-part pushes back the damp -sand a little way and slips into it by digging a tiny pit; then, blown out, it becomes -a knob, which moulds itself and finds a support in the depression obtained. Then the -rear-end contracts; and this gives a step forward. Each thrust of the locomotive blister -means nearly a millimetre<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2744src" href="#xd31e2744">4</a> traversed. -</p> -<p>It is pitiful to see this budding flesh, scarcely tinged with pink, knocking with -its dropsical neck and ramming the rough soil. The animal glair, not yet quite hardened, -struggles painfully with stone; and its efforts are so well directed that, in the -space of a morning, a gallery opens, either straight or winding, an inch long and -as wide as an average straw. In this way the harassed insect reaches the surface. -</p> -<p>Half-caught in its exit-shaft, the disinterred one halts, waits for its strength to -<span class="pageNum" id="pb244">[<a href="#pb244">244</a>]</span>return and then for the last time swells its occipital hernia as far as it will go -and bursts the sheath that has protected it so far. The creature throws off its miner’s -overall. -</p> -<p>Here at last is the Decticus in his youthful shape, quite pale still, but darker the -next day and a regular blackamoor compared with the adult. As a prelude to the ivory -face of a riper age, he sports a narrow white stripe under his hinder thighs. -</p> -<p>Little Decticus, hatched before my eyes, life opens for you very harshly! Many of -your kindred must die of exhaustion before attaining their freedom. In my tubes I -see numbers who, stopped by a grain of sand, succumb half-way and become furred with -a sort of silky mildew. The mouldy part soon absorbs their poor little remains. When -performed without my assistance, the coming to the light of day must be attended with -even greater dangers. The usual soil is coarse and baked by the sun. Without a fall -of rain, how do they manage, these immured ones? -</p> -<p>More fortunate in my tubes with their sifted and wetted mould, here you are outside, -you little white-striped nigger; you bite at the lettuce-leaf which I have given <span class="pageNum" id="pb245">[<a href="#pb245">245</a>]</span>you; you leap about gaily in the cage where I have housed you. It would be easy to -rear you, I can see, but it would not give me much fresh information. Let us then -part company. I restore you to liberty. In return for what you have taught me, I bestow -upon you the grass and the Locusts in the garden. -</p> -<p>Thanks to you, I know that Grasshoppers, in order to leave the ground in which the -eggs are laid, possess a provisional shape, a primary larval stage, which keeps those -too cumbrous parts, the long legs and antennæ, swathed in a common sheath; I know -that this sort of mummy, fit only to lengthen and shorten itself a little, has for -an organ of locomotion a hernia in the neck, a throbbing blister, an original piece -of mechanism which I have never seen used elsewhere as an aid to progression.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2762src" href="#xd31e2762">5</a> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb246">[<a href="#pb246">246</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e2663"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2663src">1</a></span> The highest mountain (6,270 feet) in the neighbourhood of Sérignan. Cf. <i>The Hunting Wasps</i>: chap. xi.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2663src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2671"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2671src">2</a></span> M. Bellot, forest-ranger of Beaumont (Vaucluse).—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2671src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2713"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2713src">3</a></span> .195 to .234 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2713src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2744"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2744src">4</a></span> .039 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2744src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2762"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2762src">5</a></span> This essay was written prior to that on the Grey Flesh-flies, who employ a similar -method. Cf. <i>The Life of the Fly</i>: chap. x.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2762src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch13" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e323">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XIII</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE WHITE-FACED DECTICUS: THE INSTRUMENT OF SOUND</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Art has three fields which it may cultivate in the realm of natural objects: form, -colour and sound. The sculptor uses form and imitates its perfection in so far as -the chisel is able to imitate life. The draughtsman, likewise a copyist, seeks in -black and white to give the illusion of relief on a flat surface. To the difficulties -of drawing the painter adds those of colour, which are no less great. -</p> -<p>An inexhaustible model sits to all three. Rich though the painter’s palette be, it -will always be inferior to that of reality. Nor will the sculptor’s chisel ever exhaust -the treasures of the plastic art in nature. Form and colour, beauty of outline and -play of light: these are all taught by the contemplation of actual things. They are -imitated, <span class="pageNum" id="pb247">[<a href="#pb247">247</a>]</span>they are combined according to our tastes, but they are not invented. -</p> -<p>On the other hand, our music has no prototype in the symphony of created things. Certainly -there is no lack of sounds, faint or loud, sweet and solemn. The wind roaring through -the storm-tossed woods, the waves curling and breaking on the beach, the thunder growling -in the echoing clouds stir us with their majestic notes; the breeze filtering through -the tiny foliage of the pine-trees, the Bees humming over the spring flowers charm -every ear endowed with any delicacy; but these are monotonous noises, with no connection. -Nature has superb sounds; she has no music. -</p> -<p>Howling, braying, grunting, neighing, bellowing, bleating, yelping: these exhaust -the phonetics of our near neighbours in organization. A musical score composed of -such elements would be called a hullabaloo. Man, forming a striking exception at the -top of the scale of these makers of raucous noises, took it into his head to sing. -An attribute which no other shares with him, the attribute of coordinated sounds whence -springs the incomparable gift of speech, led him on to scientific vocal exercises. -In the absence <span class="pageNum" id="pb248">[<a href="#pb248">248</a>]</span>of a model, it must have been a laborious apprenticeship. -</p> -<p>When our prehistoric ancestor, to celebrate his return from hunting the Mammoth, intoxicated -himself with sour tipple brewed from raspberries and sloes, what can have issued from -his hoarse larynx? An orthodox melody? Certainly not; hoarse shouts, rather, capable -of shaking the roof of his cave. The loudness of the cry constituted its merit. The -primitive song is found to this day when men’s throats are fired in taverns instead -of caverns. -</p> -<p>And this tenor, with his crude vocal efforts, was already an adept at guiding his -pointed flint to engrave on ivory the effigy of the monstrous animal which he had -captured; he knew how to embellish his idol’s cheeks with red chalk; he knew how to -paint his own face with coloured grease. There were plenty of models for form and -colour but none for rhythmic sounds. -</p> -<p>With progress came the musical instrument, as an adjunct to those first guttural attempts. -Men blew down tubes taken all in one piece from the sappy branches; they produced -sounds from the barley-stalks and made whistles out of reeds. The shell of a <span class="pageNum" id="pb249">[<a href="#pb249">249</a>]</span>Snail, held between two fingers of the closed fist, imitated the Partridge’s call; -a trumpet formed of a wide strip of bark rolled into a horn reproduced the bellowing -of the Bull; a few gut-strings stretched across the empty shell of a calabash grated -out the first notes of our stringed instruments; a Goat’s bladder, fixed on a solid -frame, was the original drum; two flat pebbles struck together at measured intervals -led the way for the click of the castagnettes. Such must have been the primitive musical -materials, materials still preserved by the child, which, with its simplicity in things -artistic, is so strongly reminiscent of the big child of yore. -</p> -<p>Classical antiquity knew no others, as witness the shepherds of Theocritus and Virgil. -</p> -<div lang="la" class="lgouter"> -<p class="line"><i>Silvestrem tenui musam meditaris avena,</i> </p> -</div> -<p class="first">says Meliboeus to Tityrus.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2798src" href="#xd31e2798">1</a> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb250">[<a href="#pb250">250</a>]</span></p> -<p>What are we to make of this oat-straw, this frail shepherd’s pipe, as they used to -make us translate it in my young days? Did the poet write <i lang="la">avena tenui</i> by way of a rhetorical figure, or was he describing a reality? I vote for the reality, -having myself in the old days heard a concert of shepherd’s pipes. -</p> -<p>It was in Corsica, at Ajaccio. In gratitude for a handful of sugar-plums, some small -boys of the neighbourhood came one day and serenaded me. Quite unexpectedly, in gusts -of untutored harmony, strange sounds of rare sweetness reached my ears. I ran to the -window. There stood the orchestra, none taller than a jack-boot, gathered solemnly -in a ring, with the leader in the middle. Most of them had at their lips a green onion-stem, -distended spindlewise; others a stubble straw, a bit of reed not yet hardened by maturity. -</p> -<p>They blew into these, or rather they sang a <i lang="la">vocero</i>, to a grave measure, perhaps a relic of the Greeks. Certainly, it was not music as -we understand it; still less was it a meaningless noise; but it was a vague, undulating -melody, abounding in artless irregularities, a medley of pretty sounds in which <span class="pageNum" id="pb251">[<a href="#pb251">251</a>]</span>the sibilations of the straw threw into relief the bleating of the swollen stalks. -I stood amazed at the onion-stem symphony. Very much so must the shepherds of the -eclogue have gone to work, <i lang="la">avena tenui</i>; very much so must the bridal epithalamium have been sung in the Reindeer period. -</p> -<p>Yes, the simple melody of my Corsican youngsters, a real humming of Bees on the rosemaries, -has left a lasting trace in my memory. I can hear it now. It taught me the value of -the rustic pipes, once so constantly celebrated in a literature that is now old-fashioned. -How far removed are we from those simple joys! To charm the populace in these days -you need ophicleides, saxhorns, trombones, cornets, every imaginable sort of brass, -with big drums and little drums and, to beat time, a gun-shot. That’s what progress -does. -</p> -<p>Three-and-twenty centuries ago, Greece assembled at Delphi for the festivals of the -sun, Phœbus with the golden locks. Thrilled with religious emotion she listened to -the Hymn of Apollo, a melody of a few lines, barely supported here and there by a -scanty chord on the flute and cithara. Hailed as a masterpiece, the sacred song was -engraved <span class="pageNum" id="pb252">[<a href="#pb252">252</a>]</span>on marble tablets which the archæologists have recently exhumed. -</p> -<p>The venerable strains, the oldest in musical records, have been heard in my time in -the ancient theatre at Orange, a ruin in stone worthy of that ruin of sound. I was -not present at the performance, being kept away by my habit of running to the west -whenever there are fireworks in the east. One of my friends, a man gifted with a very -sensitive ear, went; and he said to me afterwards: -</p> -<p>“There were probably ten thousand people forming the audience in the enormous amphitheatre. -I very much doubt whether one of them understood that music of another age. As for -me, I felt as if I were listening to a blind man’s plaintive ditty and I looked round -involuntarily for the dog holding the cup.” -</p> -<p>The barbarian, to turn the Greek masterpiece into a stupid wail! Was it irreverence -on his part? No, but it was incapacity. His ear, trained in accordance with other -rules, was unable to take pleasure in artless sounds which had become strange and -even disagreeable owing to their great age. What my friend lacked, what we all lack -is the perception <span class="pageNum" id="pb253">[<a href="#pb253">253</a>]</span>of those primitive niceties which have been stifled by the centuries. To enjoy the -Hymn to Apollo, we should have to go back to the simplicity of soul which one day -made me think the buzzing of the onion-stalks delightful. And that we shall never -do. -</p> -<p>But, if our music need not draw its inspiration from the Delphic marbles, our statuary -and our architecture will always find models of incomparable perfection in the work -of the Greeks. The art of sounds, having no prototype imposed on it by natural facts, -is liable to change: with our fickle tastes, that which is perfect in music to-day -becomes vulgar and commonplace to-morrow. The art of forms, on the contrary, being -based on the immutable foundation of reality, always sees the beautiful where previous -centuries saw it. -</p> -<p>There is no musical type anywhere, not even in the song of the Nightingale, celebrated -by Buffon<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2848src" href="#xd31e2848">2</a> in grandiloquent terms. <span class="pageNum" id="pb254">[<a href="#pb254">254</a>]</span>I have no wish to shock anybody; but why should I not give my opinion? Buffon’s style -and the Nightingale’s song both leave me cold. The first has too much rhetoric about -it and not enough sincere emotion. The second, a magnificent jewel-case of ill-assorted -pearls of sound, makes so slight an appeal to the soul that a penny jug, filled with -water and furnished with a whistle, will enable the lips of a child to reproduce the -celebrated songster’s finest trills. A little earthenware machine, warbling at the -player’s will, rivals the Nightingale. -</p> -<p>Above the bird, that glorious production of a vibrating air-column, creatures roar -and bray and grunt, until we come to man, who alone speaks and really sings. Below -the bird, they croak or are silent. The bellows of the lungs have two efflorescences -separated by enormous empty spaces filled with formless sounds. Lower down still is -the insect, which is much earlier in date. This first-born of the dwellers on the -earth is also the first singer. Deprived of the breath which could set the vocal cords -vibrating, it invents the bow and friction, of which man is later to make such wonderful -use. -</p> -<p>Various Beetles produce a noise by sliding <span class="pageNum" id="pb255">[<a href="#pb255">255</a>]</span>one rugged surface over another. The Capricorn moves his corseleted segment over its -junction with the rest of the thorax; the Pine Cockchafer,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2863src" href="#xd31e2863">3</a> with his great fan-shaped antennæ, rubs his last dorsal segment with the edge of -his wing-cases; the Copris<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2869src" href="#xd31e2869">4</a> and many more know no other method. To tell the truth, these scrapers do not produce -a musical sound, but rather a creaking like that of a weathercock on its rusty pin, -a thin, sharp sound with no resonance in it. -</p> -<p>Among these inexperienced scrapers, I will select the Bolboceras (<i lang="la">B. gallicus</i>, <span class="sc">Muls.</span>),<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2883src" href="#xd31e2883">5</a> as deserving honourable mention. Round as a ball, sporting a horn on his forehead, -like the Spanish Copris, whose stercoral tastes he does not share, this pretty Beetle -loves the pine-woods in my neighbourhood and digs himself a burrow in the sand, leaving -it in the evening twilight with the gentle chirp of a well-fed nestling under its -mother’s <span class="pageNum" id="pb256">[<a href="#pb256">256</a>]</span>wing. Though habitually silent, he makes a noise at the least disturbance. A dozen -of him imprisoned in a box will provide you with a delightful symphony, very faint, -it is true: you have to hold the box close to your ear to hear it. Compared with him, -the Capricorn, Copris, Pine Cockchafer and the rest are rustic fiddlers. In their -case, after all, it is not singing, but rather an expression of fear, I might almost -say, a cry of anguish, a moan. The insect utters it only in a moment of danger and -never, so far as I know, at the time of its wedding. -</p> -<p>The real musician, who expresses his gladness by strokes of the bow and cymbals, dates -much farther back. He preceded the insects endowed with a superior organization, the -Beetle, the Bee, the Fly, the Butterfly, who prove their higher rank by complete transformations; -he is closely connected with the rude beginnings of the geological period. The singing -insect, in fact, belongs exclusively either to the order of the Hemiptera, including -the Cicadæ, or to that of the Orthoptera, including the Grasshoppers and Crickets. -Its incomplete metamorphoses link it with those primitive races whose records are -inscribed in our coal-seams. It <span class="pageNum" id="pb257">[<a href="#pb257">257</a>]</span>is one of the first that mingled the sounds of life with the vague murmuring of inert -things. It was singing before the reptile had learnt to breathe. -</p> -<p>This shows, from the mere point of view of sound, the futility of those theories of -ours which try to explain the world by the automatic evolution of progress nascent -in the primitive cell. All is yet dumb; and already the insect is stridulating as -correctly as it does to-day. Phonetics start with an apparatus which the ages will -hand down to one another without changing any essential part of it. Then, though the -lungs have appeared, we have silence, save for the heavy breathing of the nostrils. -But lo, one day, the Frog croaks; and soon, with no preparation, there are mingled -with this hideous concert the trills of the Quail, the whistled stanzas of the Thrush -and the Warbler’s musical strains. The larynx in its highest form has come into existence. -What will the late-comers do with it? The Ass and the Wild Boar give us our reply. -We find something worse than marking time, we find an enormous retrogression, until -one last bound brings us to man’s own larynx. -</p> -<p>In this genesis of sounds it is impossible to <span class="pageNum" id="pb258">[<a href="#pb258">258</a>]</span>talk authoritatively of a steady progression which makes the middling follow on the -bad and the excellent on the middling. We see nothing but abrupt excursions, intermittences, -recoils, sudden expansions not foretold by what has gone before nor continued by that -which follows; we find nothing but a riddle whose solution does not lie in the virtues -of the cell alone, that easy pillow for whoso has not the courage to search deeper. -</p> -<p>But let us leave the question of origins, that inaccessible domain, and come down -to facts; let us cross-examine a few representatives of those old races who were the -earliest exponents of the art of sounds and took it into their heads to sing at a -time when the mud of the first continents was hardening; let us ask them how their -instrument is constructed and what is the object of their ditty. -</p> -<p>The Grasshopper, so remarkable both for the length and thickness of her hinder thighs -and for her ovipositor, the sabre or dibble which plants her eggs, is one of the chief -performers in the entomological concert. Indeed, if we except the Cicada, who is often -confused with her, she is responsible for the greater part of the noise. Only one -of the Orthoptera surpasses her; and that is <span class="pageNum" id="pb259">[<a href="#pb259">259</a>]</span>the Cricket, her near neighbour. Let us first listen to the White-faced Decticus. -</p> -<p>The performance begins with a hard, sharp, almost metallic sound, very like that emitted -by the Thrush keeping a sharp look-out while he stuffs himself with olives. It consists -of a series of isolated notes, <i>tick-tick</i>, with a longish pause between them. Then, with a gradual <i>crescendo</i>, the song develops into a rapid clicking in which the fundamental <i>tick-tick</i> is accompanied by a continuous droning bass. At the end the <i>crescendo</i> becomes so loud that the metallic note disappears and the sound is transformed into -a mere rustle, a <i>frrrr-frrrr-frrrr</i> of the greatest rapidity. -</p> -<p>The performer goes on like this for hours, with alternating strophes and rests. In -calm weather, the song, at its height, can be heard twenty steps away. That is no -great distance. The noise made by the Cicada and the Cricket carries much farther. -</p> -<p>How are the strains produced? The books which I am able to consult leave me perplexed. -They tell me of the “mirror,” a thin, quivering membrane which glistens like a blade -of mica; but how is this membrane made to vibrate? That is what they <span class="pageNum" id="pb260">[<a href="#pb260">260</a>]</span>either do not tell us or else tell us very vaguely and inaccurately, talking of a -friction of the wing-cases, mutual rubbing of the nervures; and that is all. -</p> -<p>I should like a more lucid explanation, for a Grasshopper’s musical-box, I feel certain -in advance, must have an exact mechanism of its own. Let us therefore look into the -matter, even though we have to repeat observations already perhaps made by others, -but unknown to a recluse like myself, whose whole library consists of a few old odd -volumes. -</p> -<p>The Decticus’ wing-cases widen at the base and form on the insect’s back a flat sunken -surface shaped like an elongated triangle. This is the sounding-board. Here the left -wing-case folds over the right and, when at rest, completely covers the latter’s musical -apparatus. The most distinct and, from time immemorial, the best-known part of it -is the mirror, thus called because of the shininess of its thin oval membrane, set -in the frame of a nervure. It is very like the skin of a drum, of an exquisitely delicate -tympanum, with this difference, that it sounds without being tapped. Nothing touches -the mirror when the Decticus sings. Its vibrations <span class="pageNum" id="pb261">[<a href="#pb261">261</a>]</span>are imparted to it after starting elsewhere. And how? I will tell you. -</p> -<p>Its edging is prolonged at the inner angle of the base by a wide, blunt tooth, furnished -at the end with a more prominent and powerful fold than the other nervures distributed -here and there. I will call this fold the friction-nervure. This is the starting-point -of the concussion that makes the mirror resound. The evidence will appear when the -remainder of the apparatus is known. -</p> -<p>This remainder, the motor mechanism, is on the left wing-case, covering the other -with its flat edge. Outside, there is nothing remarkable, unless it be—and even then -one has to be on the look-out for it—a sort of slightly slanting, transversal pad, -which might very easily be taken for a thicker nervure than the others. -</p> -<p>But examine the lower surface through the magnifying-glass. The pad is much more than -an ordinary nervure. It is an instrument of the highest precision, a magnificent indented -bow, marvellously regular on its diminutive scale. Never did human industry, when -cutting metal for the most delicate clockwork mechanism, achieve such perfection. -Its shape is that of a curved spindle. <span class="pageNum" id="pb262">[<a href="#pb262">262</a>]</span>From one end to the other there have been cut across this bow about eighty triangular -teeth, which are very even and are of some hard, durable material, dark-brown in colour. -</p> -<p>The use of this mechanical gem is obvious. If we take a dead Decticus and lift the -flat rim of the two wing-cases slightly in order to place them in the position which -they occupy when sounding, we see the bow fitting its indentations to the terminal -nervure which I have called the friction-nervure; we follow the line of teeth which, -from end to end of the row, never swerve from the points to be set in motion; and, -if the operation be done at all dexterously, the dead insect sings, that is to say, -strikes a few of its clicking notes. -</p> -<p>The secret of the sounds produced by the Decticus is out. The toothed bow of the left -wing-case is the motor; the friction-nervure of the right wing-case is the point of -concussion; the stretched membrane of the mirror is the resonator, to which vibration -is communicated by the shaking of the surrounding frame. Our own music has many vibrating -membranes; but these are always affected by direct percussion. Bolder than <span class="pageNum" id="pb263">[<a href="#pb263">263</a>]</span>our makers of musical instruments, the Decticus combines the bow with the drum. -</p> -<p>The same combination is found in the other Grasshoppers. The most famous of these -is the Green Grasshopper (<i lang="la">Locusta viridissima</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), who to the qualities of a handsome stature and a fine green colour adds the honour -of classical renown. In La Fontaine she is the Cicada who comes alms-begging of the -Ant when the north wind blows. Flies and Grubs being scarce, the would-be borrower -asks for a few grains to live upon until next summer. The double diet, animal and -vegetable, is a very happy inspiration on the fabulist’s part. -</p> -<p>The Grasshopper, in fact, has the same tastes as the Decticus. In my cages, he feeds -on lettuce-leaves when there is nothing better going; but his preference is all in -favour of the Locust, whom he crunches up without leaving anything but the wing-cases -and wings. In a state of liberty, his preying on that ravenous browser must largely -make up to us for the small toll which he levies on our agricultural produce. -</p> -<p>Except in a few details, his musical instrument is the same as that of the Decticus. -It occupies, at the base of the wing-cases, a <span class="pageNum" id="pb264">[<a href="#pb264">264</a>]</span>large sunken surface shaped like a curved triangle and brownish in colour, with a -dull-yellow rim. It is a sort of escutcheon, emblazoned with heraldic devices. On -the under surface of the left wing-case, which is folded over the right, two transversal, -parallel grooves are cut. The space between them makes a ridge which constitutes the -bow. The latter, a brown spindle, has a set of fine, very regular and very numerous -teeth. The mirror of the right wing-case is almost circular, well framed and supplied -with a strong and prominent friction-nervure. -</p> -<p>The insect stridulates in July and August, in the evening twilight, until close upon -ten o’clock. It produces a quick, rattling noise, accompanied by a faint metallic -clicking which barely passes the border of perceptible sounds. The abdomen, considerably -lowered, throbs and beats the measure. This goes on for irregular periods and suddenly -ceases; in between these periods there are false starts reduced to a few strokes of -the bow; there are pauses and then the stridulation is once more in full swing. -</p> -<p>All said, it is a very meagre performance, greatly inferior in volume to that of the -Decticus, not to be compared with the song of <span class="pageNum" id="pb265">[<a href="#pb265">265</a>]</span>the Cricket and even less with the harsh and noisy efforts of the Cicada. In the quiet -of the evening, when only a few steps away, I need little Paul’s delicate ear to apprise -me of it. -</p> -<p>It is poorer still in the two dwarf Dectici of my neighbourhood, <i lang="la">Platycleis intermedia</i>, <span class="sc">Serv.</span>, and <i lang="la">P. grisea</i>, <span class="sc">Fab.</span>, both of whom are common in the long grass, where the ground is stony and exposed -to the sun, and quick to disappear in the undergrowth when you try to catch them. -These two fat songsters have each had the doubtful privilege of a place in my cages. -</p> -<p>Here, in a blazing sun beating straight upon the window, are my little Dectici crammed -with green millet-seeds and also with game. Most of them are lying in the hottest -places, on their bellies or sides, with their hind-legs outstretched. For hours on -end they digest without moving and slumber in their voluptuous attitude. Some of them -sing. Oh, what a feeble song! -</p> -<p>The ditty of the Intermediary Decticus, with its strophes and pauses alternating at -equal intervals, is a rapid <i>fr-r-r-r</i> similar to the Coaltit’s, while that of the Grey Decticus consists of distinct strokes -of the bow and <span class="pageNum" id="pb266">[<a href="#pb266">266</a>]</span>tends to copy the Cricket’s melody, with a note which is hoarser and, in particular, -much fainter. In both cases, the feebleness of the sound hardly allows me to hear -the singer a couple of yards away. -</p> -<p>And to produce this music, this insignificant and only just perceptible refrain, the -two dwarfs have all that their big cousin possesses: a toothed bow, a tambourine, -a friction-nervure. On the bow of the Grey Decticus I count about forty teeth and -eighty on that of the Intermediary Decticus. Moreover, in both, the right wing-case -displays, around the mirror, a few diaphanous spaces, intended no doubt to increase -the extent of the vibrating portion. It makes no difference: though the instrument -is magnificent, the production of sound is very poor. -</p> -<p>With this same mechanism of a drum and file, which of them will achieve any progress? -Not one of the large-winged Locustidæ succeeds in doing so. All, from the biggest, -the Grasshoppers, Dectici and Conocephali, down to the smallest, the Platycleis, Xiphidion -and Phaneropteron, set in motion with the teeth of a bow the frame of a vibrating-mirror; -all are, so to speak, left-handed, that is to say, they carry the bow on the lower -<span class="pageNum" id="pb267">[<a href="#pb267">267</a>]</span>surface of the left wing-case, overlapping the right, which is furnished with the -tympanum; all, lastly, have a thin, faint trill which is sometimes hardly perceptible. -</p> -<p>One alone, modifying the details of the apparatus without introducing any innovation -into the general structure, achieves a certain power of sound. This is the Vine Ephippiger, -who does without wings and reduces his wing-cases to two concave scales, elegantly -fluted and fitting one into the other. These two disks are all that remains of the -organs of flight, which have become exclusively organs of song. The insect abandons -flying to devote itself the better to stridulation. -</p> -<p>It shelters its instrument under a sort of dome formed by the corselet, which is curved -saddlewise. As usual, the left scale occupies the upper position and bears on its -lower surface a file in which we can distinguish with the lens eighty transversal -denticulations, more powerful and more clearly cut than those possessed by any other -of the Grasshopper tribe. The right scale is underneath. At the top of its slightly -flattened dome, the mirror gleams, framed in a strong nervure. -</p> -<p>For elegance of structure, this instrument <span class="pageNum" id="pb268">[<a href="#pb268">268</a>]</span>is superior to the Cicada’s, in which the contraction of two columns of muscles alternately -pulls in and lets out the convex surface of two barren cymbals. It needs sound-chambers, -resonators, to become a noisy apparatus. As things are, it emits a lingering and plaintive -<i>tchi-i-i, tchi-i-i, tchi-i-i</i>, in a minor key, which is heard even farther than the blithe bowing of the White-faced -Decticus. -</p> -<p>When disturbed in their repose, the Decticus and the other Grasshoppers at once become -silent, struck dumb with fear. With them, singing invariably expresses gladness. The -Ephippiger also dreads to be disturbed and baffles with his sudden silence whoso seeks -to find him. But take him between your fingers. Often he will resume his stridulation -with erratic strokes of the bow. At such times the song denotes anything but happiness, -fear rather and all the anguish of danger. The Cicada likewise rattles more shrilly -than ever when a ruthless child dislocates his abdomen and forces open his chapels. -In both cases, the gay refrain of the mirthful insect turns into the lamentation of -a persecuted victim. -</p> -<p>A second peculiarity of the Ephippiger’s, <span class="pageNum" id="pb269">[<a href="#pb269">269</a>]</span>unknown to the other singing insects, is worthy of remark. Both sexes are endowed -with the sound-producing apparatus. The female, who, in the other Grasshoppers, is -always dumb, with not even a vestige of bow or mirror, acquires in this instance a -musical instrument which is a close copy of the male’s. -</p> -<p>The left scale covers the right. Its edges are fluted with thick, pale nervures, forming -a fine-meshed network; the centre, on the other hand, is smooth and swells into an -amber-coloured dome. Underneath, this dome is supplied with two concurrent nervures, -the chief of which is slightly wrinkled on its ridge. The right scale is similarly -constructed, but for one detail: the central dome, which also is amber-coloured, is -traversed by a nervure which describes a sort of sinuous line and which, under the -magnifying-glass, reveals very fine transversal teeth throughout the greater part -of its length. -</p> -<p>This feature betrays the bow, placed in the inverse position to that which is known -to us. The male is left-handed and works with his upper wing-case; the female is right-handed -and scrapes with her lower wing-case. <span class="pageNum" id="pb270">[<a href="#pb270">270</a>]</span>Besides, with her, there is no such thing as a mirror, that is to say, no shiny membrane -resembling a flake of mica. The bow rubs across the rough vein of the opposite scale -and in this way produces simultaneous vibration in the two fitted spherical domes. -</p> -<p>The vibrating part is double, therefore, but too stiff and clumsy to produce a sound -of any depth. The song, in any case rather thin, is even more plaintive than the male’s. -The insect is not lavish with it. If I do not interfere, my captives never add their -note to the concert of their caged companions; on the other hand, when seized and -worried, they utter a moan at once. It seems likely that, in a state of liberty, things -happen otherwise. The dumb beauties in my bell-jars are not for nothing endowed with -a double cymbal and a bow. The instrument that moans with fright must also ring out -joyously on occasion. -</p> -<p>What purpose is served by the Grasshopper’s sound-apparatus? I will not go so far -as to refuse it a part in the pairing, or to deny it a persuasive murmur, sweet to -her who hears it: that would be flying in the face of the evidence. But this is not -its principal <span class="pageNum" id="pb271">[<a href="#pb271">271</a>]</span>function. Before anything else, the insect uses it to express its joy in living, to -sing the delights of existence with a belly well filled and a back warmed by the sun, -as witness the big Decticus and the male Grasshopper, who, after the wedding, exhausted -for good and all and taking no further interest in pairing, continue to stridulate -merrily as long as their strength holds out. -</p> -<p>The Grasshopper tribe has its bursts of gladness; it has moreover the advantage of -being able to express them with a sound, the simple satisfaction of the artist. The -little journeyman whom I see in the evening returning from the workyard on his way -home, where his supper awaits him, whistles and sings for his own pleasure, with no -intention of making himself heard, nor any wish to attract an audience. In his artless -and almost unconscious fashion, he tells the joys of a hard day’s work done and of -his plateful of steaming cabbage. Even so most often does the singing insect stridulate: -it is celebrating life. -</p> -<p>Some go farther. If existence has its sweets, it also has its sorrows. The saddle-bearing -Grasshopper of the vines is able to <span class="pageNum" id="pb272">[<a href="#pb272">272</a>]</span>translate both of these into sound. In a trailing melody, he sings to the bushes of -his happiness; in a like melody, hardly altered, he pours forth his griefs and his -fears. His mate, herself an instrumentalist, shares this privilege. She exults and -laments with two cymbals of another pattern. -</p> -<p>When all is said, the cogged drum need not be looked down upon. It enlivens the lawns, -murmurs the joys and tribulations of existence, sends the lover’s call echoing all -around, brightens the weary waiting of the lonely ones, tells of the perfect blossoming -of insect life. Its stroke of the bow is almost a voice. -</p> -<p>And this magnificent gift, so full of promise, is granted only to the inferior races, -coarse natures, near akin to the crude beginnings of the carboniferous period. If, -as we are told, the superior insect descends from ancestors who have been gradually -transformed, why did it not preserve that fine inheritance of a voice which has sounded -from the earliest ages? -</p> -<p>Can it be that the theory of progressive acquirements is only a specious lure? Are -we to abandon the savage theory of the crushing of the weak by the strong, of the -<span class="pageNum" id="pb273">[<a href="#pb273">273</a>]</span>less well-endowed by their more highly-gifted rivals? Is it permissible to doubt, -when the evolutionists talk to us of the survival of the fittest? Yes, indeed it is! -</p> -<p>We are told as much by a certain Libellula of the carboniferous age (<i lang="la">Meganeura Monyi</i>, <span class="sc">Brong.</span>), measuring over two feet across the wings. The giant Dragon-fly, who terrified the -small winged folk with her sawlike mandibles, has disappeared, whereas the puny Agrion, -with her bronze or azure abdomen, still hovers over the reeds of our rivers. -</p> -<p>So have her contemporaries disappeared, the monstrous sauroid fishes, mailed in enamel -and armed to the teeth. Their scarce successors are mere abortions. The splendid series -of Cephalopods with partitioned shells, including certain Ammonites of the diameter -of a cartwheel, has no other representative in our present seas than that modest fireman’s -helmet, the Nautilus. The Megalosaurus, a saurian twenty-five yards long, was a more -alarming figure in our country-sides than the Grey Lizard of the walls. One of man’s -contemporaries, that monumental beast the Mammoth, is known only by his remains; and -his near kinsman <span class="pageNum" id="pb274">[<a href="#pb274">274</a>]</span>the Elephant, a mere Sheep beside him, goes on prospering. What a shock to the law -of the survival of the strongest! The mighty have gone under; and the weak fill their -place. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb275">[<a href="#pb275">275</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e2798"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2798src">1</a></span> </p> -<div class="q"> -<div class="nestedtext"> -<div class="nestedbody"> -<div class="lgouter footnote"> -<p class="line">“Beneath the shade which beechen boughs diffuse, </p> -<p class="line">You, Tityrus, entertain your sylvan muse. </p> -<p class="line">. . . . . . . </p> -<p class="line">These blessings friend, a deity bestowed: </p> -<p class="line">. . . . . . . </p> -<p class="line">He gave my kine to graze the flowery plain </p> -<p class="line">And to my pipe renewed the rural strain.” </p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div><p> -</p> -<p class="footnote cont xd31e2812">—<i>Pastorals</i>: book i.; Dryden’s translation. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2798src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2848"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2848src">2</a></span> Georges Louis Leclerc de Buffon (1707–1788), the foremost French naturalist and one -of the foremost French writers, though his style, as Fabre rightly suggests, was nothing -less than pompous. He was the originator, in the speech delivered at his reception -into the French academy, of the famous aphorism, “<i lang="fr">Le style est l’homme même.</i>”—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2848src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2863"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2863src">3</a></span> Cf. <i>Social Life in the Insect World</i>, by J. H. Fabre, translated by Bernard Miall: chap. xxi.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2863src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2869"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2869src">4</a></span> A Dung-beetle. Cf. <i>The Life and Love of the Insect</i>: chap. v.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2869src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e2883"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2883src">5</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life of the Caterpillar</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. xiii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2883src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch14" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e333">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XIV</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE GREEN GRASSHOPPER</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">We are in the middle of July. The astronomical dog-days are just beginning; but in -reality the torrid season has anticipated the calendar and for some weeks past the -heat has been overpowering. -</p> -<p>This evening in the village they are celebrating the National Festival.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3040src" href="#xd31e3040">1</a> While the little boys and girls are hopping around a bonfire whose gleams are reflected -upon the church-steeple, while the drum is pounded to mark the ascent of each rocket, -I am sitting alone in a dark corner, in the comparative coolness that prevails at -nine o’clock, harking to the concert of the festival of the fields, the festival of -the harvest, grander by far than that which, at this moment, is being celebrated in -the village square with gun-powder, lighted torches, Chinese lanterns <span class="pageNum" id="pb276">[<a href="#pb276">276</a>]</span>and, above all, strong drink. It has the simplicity of beauty and the repose of strength. -</p> -<p>It is late; and the Cicadæ are silent. Glutted with light and heat, they have indulged -in symphonies all the livelong day. The advent of the night means rest for them, but -a rest frequently disturbed. In the dense branches of the plane-trees, a sudden sound -rings out like a cry of anguish, strident and short. It is the desperate wail of the -Cicada, surprised in his quietude by the Green Grasshopper, that ardent nocturnal -huntress, who springs upon him, grips him in the side, opens and ransacks his abdomen. -An orgy of music, followed by butchery. -</p> -<p>I have never seen and never shall see that supreme expression of our national revelry, -the military review at Longchamp; nor do I much regret it. The newspapers tell me -as much about it as I want to know. They give me a sketch of the site. I see, installed -here and there amid the trees, the ominous Red Cross, with the legend, “Military Ambulance; -Civil Ambulance.” There will be bones broken, apparently; cases of sunstroke; regrettable -deaths, perhaps. It is all provided for and all in the programme. -</p> -<p>Even here, in my village, usually so peaceable, <span class="pageNum" id="pb277">[<a href="#pb277">277</a>]</span>the festival will not end, I am ready to wager, without the exchange of a few blows, -that compulsory seasoning of a day of merry-making. No pleasure, it appears, can be -fully relished without an added condiment of pain. -</p> -<p>Let us listen and meditate far from the tumult. While the disembowelled Cicada utters -his protest, the festival up there in the plane-trees is continued with a change of -orchestra. It is now the time of the nocturnal performers. Hard by the place of slaughter, -in the green bushes, a delicate ear perceives the hum of the Grasshoppers. It is the -sort of noise that a spinning-wheel makes, a very unobtrusive sound, a vague rustle -of dry membranes rubbed together. Above this dull bass there rises, at intervals, -a hurried, very shrill, almost metallic clicking. There you have the air and the recitative, -intersected by pauses. The rest is the accompaniment. -</p> -<p>Despite the assistance of a bass, it is a poor concert, very poor indeed, though there -are about ten executants in my immediate vicinity. The tone lacks intensity. My old -tympanum is not always capable of perceiving these subtleties of sound. The little -that <span class="pageNum" id="pb278">[<a href="#pb278">278</a>]</span>reaches me is extremely sweet and most appropriate to the calm of twilight. Just a -little more breadth in your bow-stroke, my dear Green Grasshopper, and your technique -would be better than the hoarse Cicada’s, whose name and reputation you have been -made to usurp in the countries of the north. -</p> -<p>Still, you will never equal your neighbour, the little bell-ringing Toad, who goes -tinkling all round, at the foot of the plane-trees, while you click up above. He is -the smallest of my batrachian folk and the most venturesome in his expeditions. -</p> -<p>How often, at nightfall, by the last glimmers of daylight, have I not come upon him -as I wandered through my garden, hunting for ideas! Something runs away, rolling over -and over in front of me. Is it a dead leaf blown along by the wind? No, it is the -pretty little Toad disturbed in the midst of his pilgrimage. He hurriedly takes shelter -under a stone, a clod of earth, a tuft of grass, recovers from his excitement and -loses no time in picking up his liquid note. -</p> -<p>On this evening of national rejoicing, there are nearly a dozen of him tinkling against -one another around me. Most of them are crouching among the rows of <span class="pageNum" id="pb279">[<a href="#pb279">279</a>]</span>flower-pots that form a sort of lobby outside my house. Each has his own note, always -the same, lower in one case, higher in another, a short, clear note, melodious and -of exquisite purity. -</p> -<p>With their slow, rhythmical cadence, they seem to be intoning litanies. <i>Cluck</i>, says one; <i>click</i>, responds another, on a finer note; <i>clock</i>, adds a third, the tenor of the band. And this is repeated indefinitely, like the -bells of the village pealing on a holiday: <i>cluck, click, clock; cluck, click, clock</i>! -</p> -<p>The batrachian choristers remind me of a certain harmonica which I used to covet when -my six-year-old ear began to awaken to the magic of sounds. It consisted of a series -of strips of glass of unequal length, hung on two stretched tapes. A cork fixed to -a wire served as a hammer. Imagine an unskilled hand striking at random on this key-board, -with a sudden clash of octaves, dissonances and topsy-turvy chords; and you will have -a pretty clear idea of the Toads’ litany. -</p> -<p>As a song, this litany has neither head nor tail to it; as a collection of pure sounds, -it is delicious. This is the case with all the music in nature’s concerts. Our ear -discovers <span class="pageNum" id="pb280">[<a href="#pb280">280</a>]</span>superb notes in it and then becomes refined and acquires, outside the realities of -sound, that sense of order which is the first condition of beauty. -</p> -<p>Now this sweet ringing of bells between hiding-place and hiding-place is the matrimonial -oratorio, the discreet summons which every Jack issues to his Jill. The sequel to -the concert may be guessed without further enquiry; but what it would be impossible -to foresee is the strange finale of the wedding. Behold the father, in this case a -real <i>pater-familias</i>, in the noblest sense of the word, coming out of his retreat one day in an unrecognizable -state. He is carrying the future, tight-packed around his hind-legs; he is changing -houses laden with a cluster of eggs the size of pepper-corns. His calves are girt, -his thighs are sheathed with the bulky burden; and it covers his back like a beggar’s -wallet, completely deforming him. -</p> -<p>Whither is he going, dragging himself along, incapable of jumping, thanks to the weight -of his load? He is going, the fond parent, where the mother refuses to go; he is on -his way to the nearest pond, whose warm waters are indispensable to the tadpoles’ -hatching and existence. When the <span class="pageNum" id="pb281">[<a href="#pb281">281</a>]</span>eggs are nicely ripened around his legs under the humid shelter of a stone, he braves -the damp and the daylight, he the passionate lover of dry land and darkness; he advances -by short stages, his lungs congested with fatigue. The pond is far away, perhaps; -no matter: the plucky pilgrim will find it. -</p> -<p>He’s there. Without delay, he dives, despite his profound antipathy to bathing; and -the cluster of eggs is instantly removed by the legs rubbing against each other. The -eggs are now in their element; and the rest will be accomplished of itself. Having -fulfilled his obligation to go right under, the father hastens to return to his well-sheltered -home. He is scarcely out of sight before the little black tadpoles are hatched and -playing about. They were but waiting for the contact of the water in order to burst -their shells. -</p> -<p>Among the singers in the July gloaming, one alone, were he able to vary his notes, -could vie with the Toad’s harmonious bells. This is the little Scops-owl, that comely -nocturnal bird of prey, with the round gold eyes. He sports on his forehead two small -feathered horns which have won for him in the district the name of <i lang="la">Machoto banarudo</i>, <span class="pageNum" id="pb282">[<a href="#pb282">282</a>]</span>the Horned Owl. His song, which is rich enough to fill by itself the still night air, -is of a nerve-shattering monotony. With imperturbable and measured regularity, for -hours on end, <i>kew, kew</i>, the bird spits out its cantata to the moon. -</p> -<p>One of them has arrived at this moment, driven from the plane-trees in the square -by the din of the rejoicings, to demand my hospitality. I can hear him in the top -of a cypress near by. From up there, dominating the lyrical assembly, at regular intervals -he cuts into the vague orchestration of the Grasshoppers and the Toads. -</p> -<p>His soft note is contrasted, intermittently, with a sort of Cat’s mew, coming from -another spot. This is the call of the Common Owl, the meditative bird of Minerva. -After hiding all day in the seclusion of a hollow olive-tree, he started on his wanderings -when the shades of evening began to fall. Swinging along with a sinuous flight, he -came from somewhere in the neighbourhood to the pines in my enclosure, whence he mingles -his harsh mewing, slightly softened by distance, with the general concert. -</p> -<p>The Green Grasshopper’s clicking is too faint to be clearly perceived amidst these -<span class="pageNum" id="pb283">[<a href="#pb283">283</a>]</span>clamourers; all that reaches me is the least ripple, just noticeable when there is -a moment’s silence. He possesses as his apparatus of sound only a modest drum and -scraper, whereas they, more highly privileged, have their bellows, the lungs, which -send forth a column of vibrating air. There is no comparison possible. Let us return -to the insects. -</p> -<p>One of these, though inferior in size and no less sparingly equipped, greatly surpasses -the Grasshopper in nocturnal rhapsodies. I speak of the pale and slender Italian Cricket -(<i lang="la">Œcanthus pellucens</i>, <span class="sc">Scop.</span>), who is so puny that you dare not take him up for fear of crushing him. He makes -music everywhere among the rosemary-bushes, while the Glow-worms light up their blue -lamps to complete the revels. The delicate instrumentalist consists chiefly of a pair -of large wings, thin and gleaming as strips of mica. Thanks to these dry sails, he -fiddles away with an intensity capable of drowning the Toads’ fugue. His performance -suggests, but with more brilliancy, more <i>tremolo</i> in the execution, the song of the Common Black Cricket. Indeed the mistake would -certainly be made by any one who did not <span class="pageNum" id="pb284">[<a href="#pb284">284</a>]</span>know that, by the time that the very hot weather comes, the true Cricket, the chorister -of spring, has disappeared. His pleasant violin has been succeeded by another more -pleasant still and worthy of special study. We shall return to him at an opportune -moment. -</p> -<p>These then, limiting ourselves to select specimens, are the principal participants -in this musical evening: the Scops-owl, with his languorous solos; the Toad, that -tinkler of sonatas; the Italian Cricket, who scrapes the first string of a violin; -and the Green Grasshopper, who seems to beat a tiny steel triangle. -</p> -<p>We are celebrating to-day, with greater uproar than conviction, the new era, dating -politically from the fall of the Bastille; they, with glorious indifference to human -things, are celebrating the festival of the sun, singing the happiness of existence, -sounding the loud hosanna of the July heats. -</p> -<p>What care they for man and his fickle rejoicings! For whom or for what will our squibs -be spluttering a few years hence? Far-seeing indeed would he be who could answer the -question. Fashions change and bring us the unexpected. The time-serving <span class="pageNum" id="pb285">[<a href="#pb285">285</a>]</span>rocket spreads its sheaf of sparks for the public enemy of yesterday, who has become -the idol of to-day. To-morrow it will go up for somebody else. -</p> -<p>In a century or two, will any one, outside the historians, give a thought to the taking -of the Bastille? It is very doubtful. We shall have other joys and also other cares. -</p> -<p>Let us look a little farther ahead. A day will come, so everything seems to tell us, -when, after making progress upon progress, man will succumb, destroyed by the excess -of what he calls civilization. Too eager to play the god, he cannot hope for the animal’s -placid longevity; he will have disappeared when the little Toad is still saying his -litany, in company with the Grasshopper, the Scops-owl and the others. They were singing -on this planet before us; they will sing after us, celebrating what can never change, -the fiery glory of the sun. -</p> -<p>I will dwell no longer on this festival and will become once more the naturalist, -anxious to obtain information concerning the private life of the insect. The Green -Grasshopper (<i lang="la">Locusta viridissima</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>) does not appear to be common in my neighbourhood. Last year, intending to make a -study of this insect <span class="pageNum" id="pb286">[<a href="#pb286">286</a>]</span>and finding my efforts to hunt it fruitless, I was obliged to have recourse to the -good offices of a forest-ranger, who sent me a pair of couples from the Lagarde plateau, -that bleak district where the beech-tree begins its escalade of the Ventoux. -</p> -<p>Now and then freakish fortune takes it into her head to smile upon the persevering. -What was not to be found last year has become almost common this summer. Without leaving -my narrow enclosure, I obtain as many Grasshoppers as I could wish. I hear them rustling -at night in the green thickets. Let us make the most of the windfall, which perhaps -will not occur again. -</p> -<p>In the month of June, my treasures are installed, in a sufficient number of couples, -under a wire cover standing on a bed of sand in an earthen pan. It is indeed a magnificent -insect, pale-green all over, with two whitish stripes running down its sides. Its -imposing size, its slim proportions and its great gauze wings make it the most elegant -of our Locustidæ. I am enraptured with my captives. What will they teach me? We shall -see. For the moment, we must feed them. -</p> -<p>I have here the same difficulty that I had <span class="pageNum" id="pb287">[<a href="#pb287">287</a>]</span>with the Decticus. Influenced by the general diet of the Orthoptera,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3140src" href="#xd31e3140">2</a> those ruminants of the greenswards, I offer the prisoners a leaf of lettuce. They -bite into it, certainly, but very sparingly and with a scornful tooth. It soon becomes -plain that I am dealing with half-hearted vegetarians. They want something else: they -are beasts of prey, apparently. But what manner of prey? A lucky chance taught me. -</p> -<p>At break of day I was pacing up and down outside my door, when something fell from -the nearest plane-tree with a shrill grating sound. I ran up and saw a Grasshopper -gutting the belly of an exhausted Cicada. In vain the victim buzzed and waved his -limbs: the other did not let go, dipping her head right into the entrails and rooting -them out by small mouthfuls. -</p> -<p>I knew what I wanted to know: the attack had taken place up above, early in the morning, -while the Cicada was asleep; and the plunging of the poor wretch, dissected alive, -had made assailant and assailed fall in a <span class="pageNum" id="pb288">[<a href="#pb288">288</a>]</span>bundle to the ground. Since then I have repeatedly had occasion to witness similar -carnage. -</p> -<p>I have even seen the Grasshopper—the height of audacity, this—dart in pursuit of a -Cicada in mad flight. Even so does the Sparrow-hawk pursue the Swallow in the sky. -But the bird of prey here is inferior to the insect. It attacks a weaker than itself. -The Grasshopper, on the other hand, assaults a colossus, much larger than herself -and stronger; and nevertheless the result of the unequal fight is not in doubt. The -Grasshopper rarely fails with the sharp pliers of her powerful jaws to disembowel -her capture, which, being unprovided with weapons, confines itself to crying out and -kicking. -</p> -<p>The main thing is to retain one’s hold of the prize, which is not difficult in somnolent -darkness. Any Cicada encountered by the fierce Locustid on her nocturnal rounds is -bound to die a lamentable death. This explains those sudden agonized notes which grate -through the woods at late, unseasonable hours, when the cymbals have long been silent. -The murderess in her suit of apple-green has pounced on some sleeping Cicada. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb289">[<a href="#pb289">289</a>]</span></p> -<p>My boarders’ menu is settled: I will feed them on Cicadæ. They take such a liking -to this fare that, in two or three weeks, the floor of the cage is a knacker’s yard -strewn with heads and empty thoraces, with torn-off wings and disjointed legs. The -belly alone disappears almost entirely. This is the tit-bit, not very substantial, -but extremely tasty, it would seem. Here, in fact, in the insect’s crop, the syrup -is accumulated, the sugary sap which the Cicada’s gimlet taps from the tender bark. -Is it because of this dainty that the prey’s abdomen is preferred to any other morsel? -It is quite possible. -</p> -<p>I do, in fact, with a view to varying the diet, decide to serve up some very sweet -fruits, slices of pear, grape-pips, bits of melon. All this meets with delighted appreciation. -The Green Grasshopper resembles the English: she dotes on underdone rumpsteak seasoned -with jam.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3157src" href="#xd31e3157">3</a> This perhaps is <span class="pageNum" id="pb290">[<a href="#pb290">290</a>]</span>why, on catching the Cicada, she first rips up his paunch, which supplies a mixture -of flesh and preserves. -</p> -<p>To eat Cicadæ and sugar is not possible in every part of the country. In the north, -where she abounds, the Green Grasshopper would not find the dish which attracts her -so strongly here. She must have other resources. To convince myself of this, I give -her Anoxiæ (<i lang="la">A. pilosa</i>, <span class="sc">Fab.</span>), the summer equivalent of the spring Cockchafer. The Beetle is accepted without -hesitation. Nothing is left of him but the wing-cases, head and legs. The result is -the same with the magnificent plump Pine Cockchafer (<i lang="la">Melolontha fullo</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), a sumptuous morsel which I find next day eviscerated by my gang of knackers. -</p> -<p>These examples teach us enough. They tell us that the Grasshopper is an inveterate -consumer of insects, especially of those which are not protected by too hard a cuirass; -they are evidence of tastes which <span class="pageNum" id="pb291">[<a href="#pb291">291</a>]</span>are highly carnivorous, but not exclusively so, like those of the Praying Mantis, -who refuses everything except game. The butcher of the Cicadæ is able to modify an -excessively heating diet with vegetable fare. After meat and blood, sugary fruit-pulp; -sometimes even, for lack of anything better, a little green stuff. -</p> -<p>Nevertheless, cannibalism is prevalent. True, I never witness in my Grasshopper-cages -the savagery which is so common in the Praying Mantis, who harpoons her rivals and -devours her lovers; but, if some weakling succumb, the survivors hardly ever fail -to profit by his carcass as they would in the case of any ordinary prey. With no scarcity -of provisions as an excuse, they feast upon their defunct companion. For the rest, -all the sabre-bearing clan display, in varying degrees, a propensity for filling their -bellies with their maimed comrades. -</p> -<p>In other respects, the Grasshoppers live together very peacefully in my cages. No -serious strife ever takes place among them, nothing beyond a little rivalry in the -matter of food. I hand in a piece of pear. A Grasshopper alights on it at once. Jealously -she kicks away any one trying to bite at the <span class="pageNum" id="pb292">[<a href="#pb292">292</a>]</span>delicious morsel. Selfishness reigns everywhere. When she has eaten her fill, she -makes way for another, who in her turn becomes intolerant. One after the other, all -the inmates of the menagerie come and refresh themselves. After cramming their crops, -they scratch the soles of their feet a little with their mandibles, polish up their -forehead and eyes with a leg moistened with spittle and then, hanging to the trelliswork -or lying on the sand in a posture of contemplation, blissfully they digest and slumber -most of the day, especially during the hottest part of it. -</p> -<p>It is in the evening, after sunset, that the troop becomes lively. By nine o’clock -the animation is at its height. With sudden rushes they clamber to the top of the -dome, to descend as hurriedly and climb up once more. They come and go tumultuously, -run and hop around the circular track and, without stopping, nibble at the good things -on the way. -</p> -<p>The males are stridulating by themselves, here and there, teasing the passing fair -with their antennæ. The future mothers stroll about gravely, with their sabre half-raised. -The agitation and feverish excitement means <span class="pageNum" id="pb293">[<a href="#pb293">293</a>]</span>that the great business of pairing is at hand. The fact will escape no practised eye. -</p> -<p>It is also what I particularly wish to observe. My chief object in stocking my cages -was to discover how far the strange nuptial manners revealed by the White-faced Decticus -might be regarded as general. My wish is satisfied, but not fully, for the late hours -at which events take place did not allow me to witness the final act of the wedding. -It is late at night or early in the morning that things happen. -</p> -<p>The little that I see is confined to interminable preludes. Standing face to face, -with foreheads almost touching, the lovers feel and sound each other for a long time -with their limp antennæ. They suggest two fencers crossing and recrossing harmless -foils. From time to time, the male stridulates a little, gives a few short strokes -of the bow and then falls silent, feeling perhaps too much overcome to continue. Eleven -o’clock strikes; and the declaration is not yet over. Very regretfully, but conquered -by sleepiness, I quit the couple. -</p> -<p>Next morning, early, the female carries, hanging at the bottom of her ovipositor, -the queer bladderlike arrangement that surprised <span class="pageNum" id="pb294">[<a href="#pb294">294</a>]</span>us so much in the Decticus. It is an opaline capsule, the size of a large pea and -roughly subdivided into a small number of egg-shaped vesicles. When the Grasshopper -walks, the thing scrapes along the ground and becomes dirty with sticky grains of -sand. -</p> -<p>The final banquet of the female Decticus is seen again here in all its hideousness. -When, after a couple of hours, the fertilizing capsule is drained of its contents, -the Grasshopper devours it bit by bit; for a long time she chews and rechews the gummy -morsel and ends by swallowing it all down. In less than half a day, the milky burden -has disappeared, consumed with zest down to the last atom. -</p> -<p>The inconceivable therefore, imported, one would think, from another planet, so far -removed is it from earthly habits, reappears with no noticeable variation in the Grasshopper, -following on the Decticus. What singular folk are the Locustidæ, one of the oldest -races in the animal kingdom on dry land! It seems probable that these eccentricities -are the rule throughout the order. Let us consult another sabre-bearer. -</p> -<p>I select the Ephippiger (<i lang="la">Ephippigera vitium</i>, <span class="sc">Serv.</span>), who is so easy to rear on <span class="pageNum" id="pb295">[<a href="#pb295">295</a>]</span>bits of pear and lettuce-leaves. It is in July and August that things happen. A little -way off, the male is stridulating by himself. His ardent bow-strokes set his whole -body quivering. Then he stops. Little by little, with slow and almost ceremonious -steps, the caller and the called come closer together. They stand face to face, both -silent, both stationary, their antennæ gently swaying, their fore-legs raised awkwardly -and giving a sort of handshake at intervals. The peaceful interview lasts for hours. -What do they say to each other? What vows do they exchange? What does their ogling -mean? -</p> -<p>But the moment has not yet come. They separate, they fall out and each goes his own -way. The coolness does not last long. Here they are together again. The tender declarations -are resumed, with no more success than before. At last, on the third day, I behold -the end of the preliminaries. The male slips discreetly under his companion, backwards, -according to the immemorial laws and customs of the Crickets. Stretched out behind -and lying on his back, he clings to the ovipositor, his prop. The pairing is accomplished. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb296">[<a href="#pb296">296</a>]</span></p> -<p>The result is an enormous spermatophore, a sort of opalescent raspberry with large -seeds. Its colour and shape remind one of a cluster of Snail’s-eggs. I remember seeing -the same effect once with a Decticus, but in a less striking form; and I find it again -in the Green Grasshopper’s spermatophore. A thin median groove divides the whole into -two symmetrical bunches, each comprising seven or eight spherules. The two nodes situated -right and left of the bottom of the ovipositor are more transparent than the others -and contain a bright orange-red kernel. The whole thing is attached by a wide pedicle, -a dab of sticky jelly. -</p> -<p>As soon as the thing is placed in position, the shrunken male flees and goes to recruit, -after his disastrous prowess, on a slice of pear. The other, not at all troubled in -spite of her heavy load, wanders about on the trelliswork of the cage, taking very -short steps as she slightly raises her raspberry, this enormous burden, equal in bulk -to half the creature’s abdomen. -</p> -<p>Two or three hours pass in this way. Then the Ephippiger curves herself into a ring -and with her mandibles picks off particles of the nippled capsule, without bursting -<span class="pageNum" id="pb297">[<a href="#pb297">297</a>]</span>it, of course, or allowing the contents to flow forth. She strips its surface by removing -tiny shreds, which she chews in a leisurely fashion and swallows. This fastidious -consuming by atoms is continued for a whole afternoon. Next day the raspberry has -disappeared; the whole of it has been gulped down during the night. -</p> -<p>At other times the end is less quick and, above all, less repulsive. I have kept a -note of an Ephippiger who was dragging her satchel along the ground and nibbling at -it from time to time. The soil is uneven and rugged, having been recently turned over -with the blade of a knife. The raspberry-like capsule picks up grains of sand and -little clods of earth, which increase the weight of the load considerably, though -the insect appears to pay no heed to it. Sometimes the carting becomes laborious, -because the load sticks to some bit of earth that refuses to move. In spite of the -efforts made to release the thing, it does not become detached from the point where -it hangs under the ovipositor, thus proving that it possesses no small power of adhesion. -</p> -<p>All through the evening, the Ephippiger roams about aimlessly, now on the wirework, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb298">[<a href="#pb298">298</a>]</span>anon on the ground, wearing a preoccupied air. Oftener still she stands without moving. -The capsule withers a little, but does not decrease notably in volume. There are no -more of those mouthfuls which the Ephippiger snatched at the beginning; and the little -that has already been removed affects only the surface. -</p> -<p>Next day, things are as they were. There is nothing new, nor on the morrow either, -save that the capsule withers still more, though its two red dots remain almost as -bright as at first. Finally, after sticking on for forty-eight hours, the whole thing -comes off without the insect’s intervention. -</p> -<p>The capsule has yielded its contents. It is a dried-up wreck, shrivelled beyond recognition, -left lying in the gutter and doomed sooner or later to become the booty of the Ants. -Why is it thus abandoned when, in other cases, I have seen the Ephippiger so greedy -for the morsel? Perhaps because the nuptial dish had become too gritty with grains -of sand, so unpleasant to the teeth. -</p> -<p>Another Locustid, the Phaneroptera who carries a short yataghan bent into a reaping-hook -(<i lang="la">P. falcata</i>, <span class="sc">Scop.</span>), has made up to me in part for my stud troubles. Repeatedly, <span class="pageNum" id="pb299">[<a href="#pb299">299</a>]</span>but always under conditions which did not allow of completing my observation, I have -caught her carrying the fertilizing-concern under the base of her sabre. It is a diaphanous, -oval phial, measuring three or four millimetres<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3243src" href="#xd31e3243">4</a> and hanging from a crystal thread, a neck almost as long as the distended part. The -insect does not touch it, but leaves the phial to dry up and shrivel where it is.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3247src" href="#xd31e3247">5</a> -</p> -<p>Let us be content with this. These five examples, furnished by such different genera, -Decticus, Analota, Grasshopper, Ephippiger and Phaneroptera, prove that the Locustid, -like the Scolopendra and the Cephalopod, is a belated representative of the manners -of antiquity, a valuable specimen of the genetic eccentricities of olden times. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb300">[<a href="#pb300">300</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e3040"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3040src">1</a></span> The 14th of July, the anniversary of the fall of the Bastille.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3040src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3140"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3140src">2</a></span> The order of insects comprising the Grasshoppers, Locusts, Crickets, Cockroaches, -Mantes and Earwigs. The Cicada, with whom the present volume opens, and the Foamy -Cicadella, with whom it closes, belong to the order of Homoptera.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3140src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3157"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3157src">3</a></span> The author was obviously thinking of the Englishman’s saddle of mutton and red-currant -jelly. The mistake has been repeated much nearer to these shores. I have in mind the -true story of an Irish king’s counsel singing the praises of another, still among -us, who had married an English wife and who, in the course of an extensive practice -in the House of Lords, spent much of his time in England: -</p> -<p class="footnote cont">“Ah, —— —— is a real gentleman! He speaks with <span class="pageNum" id="pb290n">[<a href="#pb290n">290</a>]</span>an English accent, quotes Euripides in the original Latin and takes jam with his meat.” -</p> -<p class="footnote cont">I venture to think that Fabre, in the gentleness of his heart, would have forgiven -his translator for quoting this flippant anecdote. I have no other excuse.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3157src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3243"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3243src">4</a></span> .117 to .156 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3243src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3247"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3247src">5</a></span> Fuller details on this curious subject would be out of place in a book in which anatomy -and physiology cannot always speak quite freely. They will be found in my essay on -the Locustidæ which appeared in the <i lang="fr">Annales des sciences naturelles</i>, 1896.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3247src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch15" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e343">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XV</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE CRICKET: THE BURROW; THE EGG</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Almost as famous as the Cicada, the Field Cricket, the denizen of the greenswards, -figures among the limited but glorious number of the classic insects. He owes this -honour to his song and his house. One thing alone is lacking to complete his renown. -By a regrettable omission, the master of the art of making animals talk gives him -hardly two lines. -</p> -<p>In one of his fables he shows us the Hare seized with terror at the sight of his ears, -which scandalmongers will not fail to describe as horns at a time when to be horned -is dangerous. The prudent animal packs up his traps and makes off: -</p> -<div lang="fr" class="lgouter"> -<p class="line"><i>“Adieu, voisin Grillon,” dit-il; “je pars d’ici;</i> </p> -<p class="line"><i>Mes oreilles enfin seraient cornes aussi.”</i> </p> -</div> -<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb301">[<a href="#pb301">301</a>]</span></p> -<p>The Cricket answers: -</p> -<div lang="fr" class="lgouter"> -<p class="line"><i>“Cornes cela! Vous me prenez pour cruche!</i> </p> -<p class="line"><i>Ce sont oreilles que Dieu fit.”</i> </p> -</div> -<p class="first">The Hare insists: -</p> -<div class="lgouter"> -<p class="line"><i lang="fr">“On les fera passer pour cornes.”</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3285src" href="#xd31e3285">1</a> </p> -</div> -<p class="first">And that is all. What a pity that La Fontaine did not make the insect hold forth at -greater length! The good-natured Cricket is depicted for us in a couple of lines which -already show the master’s touch. No, indeed, he is no fool: his big head might have -found some capital things to say. And yet the Hare was perhaps not wrong to take his -departure in a hurry. When slander is at your heels, the best thing is to fly. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb302">[<a href="#pb302">302</a>]</span></p> -<p>Florian<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3303src" href="#xd31e3303">2</a> was less concise in his story, which is on another theme; but what a long way we -are from the warmth and vigour of old La Fontaine! In Florian’s fable <i lang="fr">Le Grillon</i>, there are plenty of flowery meadows and blue skies; Dame Nature and affectation -go hand in hand; in short, we have the feeble artificialities of a lifeless rhetoric, -which loses sight of the thing described for the sake of the description. It lacks -the simplicity of truth and also the saving salt of humour. -</p> -<p>Besides, what a preposterous idea, to represent the Cricket as discontented, bewailing -his condition in despair! All who have studied him know, on the contrary, that he -is very well pleased with his own talent and his hole. This, moreover, is what the -fabulist makes him admit, after the Butterfly’s discomfiture: -</p> -<div lang="fr" class="lgouter"> -<p class="line">“<i>Combien je vais aimer ma retraite profonde!</i> </p> -<p class="line xd31e599"><i>Pour vivre heureux, vivons caché!</i>”<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3319src" href="#xd31e3319">3</a> </p> -</div> -<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb303">[<a href="#pb303">303</a>]</span></p> -<p>I find more force and more truth in the apologue by the nameless friend to whom I -owe the Provençal piece, <i lang="fr">La Cigalo e la Fournigo</i>. He will forgive me if for the second time I expose him, without his consent, to -the dangerous honour of print. Here it is: -</p> -<div lang="fr" class="lgouter"> -<h4><span class="sc">Le Grillon</span></h4> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">L’histoire des bêtes rapporte </p> -<p class="line">Qu’autrefois un pauvre grillon, </p> -<p class="line">Prenant le soleil sur sa porte, </p> -<p class="line">Vit passer un beau papillon. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">Un papillon à longues queues, </p> -<p class="line">Superbe, des mieux décorés, </p> -<p class="line">Avec rangs de lunules bleues, </p> -<p class="line">Galons noirs et gros points dorés.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3348src" href="#xd31e3348">4</a> </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">“Vole, vole,” lui dit l’ermite, </p> -<p class="line">“Sur les fleurs, du matin au soir; </p> -<p class="line">Ta rose, ni ta marguerite </p> -<p class="line">Ne valent mon humble manoir.” </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">Il disait vrai. Vient un orage </p> -<p class="line">Et le papillon est noyé <span class="pageNum" id="pb304">[<a href="#pb304">304</a>]</span></p> -<p class="line">Dans un bourbier; la fange outrage </p> -<p class="line">Le velours de son corps broyé. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">Mais la tourmente en rien n’étonne </p> -<p class="line">Le grillon, qui, dans son abri, </p> -<p class="line">Qu’il pleuve, qu’il vente, qu’il tonne, </p> -<p class="line">Vit tranquille et chante cri-cri. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg xd31e452"> -<p class="line">Ah! n’allons pas courir le monde </p> -<p class="line">Parmi les plaisirs et les fleurs; </p> -<p class="line">L’humble foyer, sa paix profonde </p> -<p class="line">Nous épargneront bien des pleurs. </p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="lgouter"> -<h4>THE CRICKET</h4> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">Among the beasts a tale is told </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">How a poor Cricket ventured nigh </p> -<p class="line">His door to catch the sun’s warm gold </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">And saw a radiant Butterfly. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">She passed with tails thrown proudly back </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">And long gay rows of crescents blue, </p> -<p class="line">Brave yellow stars and bands of black, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">The lordliest fly that ever flew. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">“Ah, fly away,” the hermit said, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">“Daylong among your flowers to roam; </p> -<p class="line">Nor daisies white nor roses red </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Will compensate my lowly home.” </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">True, all too true! There came a storm </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">And caught the other in its flood, <span class="pageNum" id="pb305">[<a href="#pb305">305</a>]</span></p> -<p class="line">Staining her broken velvet form </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">And covering her wings with mud. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">The Cricket, sheltered from the rain, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Chirped and looked on with tranquil eye; </p> -<p class="line">For him the thunder pealed in vain, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">The gale and torrent passed him by. </p> -</div> -<div class="lg"> -<p class="line">Then shun the world, nor take your fill </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">Of any of its joys or flowers; </p> -<p class="line">A lowly fire-side, calm and still, </p> -<p class="line xd31e599">At least will grant you tearless hours!<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3419src" href="#xd31e3419">5</a> </p> -</div> -</div> -<p class="first">There I recognize my Cricket. I see him curling his antennæ on the threshold of his -burrow, keeping his belly cool and his back to the sun. He is not jealous of the Butterfly; -on the contrary, he pities her, with that air of mocking commiseration familiar in -the ratepayer who owns a house of his own and sees passing before his door some wearer -of a gaudy costume with no place to lay her head. Far from complaining, he is very -well satisfied with both his house and his violin. A true philosopher, he knows the -vanity of things and appreciates the charm of a modest retreat away from the riot -of pleasure-seekers. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb306">[<a href="#pb306">306</a>]</span></p> -<p>Yes, the description is about right, though it remains very inadequate and does not -bear the stamp of immortality. The Cricket is still waiting for the few lines needed -to perpetuate his merits; and, since La Fontaine neglected him, he will have to go -on waiting a long time. -</p> -<p>To me, as a naturalist, the outstanding feature in the two fables—a feature which -I should find repeated elsewhere, beyond a doubt, if my library were not reduced to -a small row of odd volumes on a deal shelf—is the burrow on which the moral is founded. -Florian speaks of the snug retreat; the other praises his lowly home. It is the dwelling -therefore that above all compels attention, even that of the poet, who cares little -in general for realities. -</p> -<p>In this respect, indeed, the Cricket is extraordinary. Of all our insects, he alone, -on attaining maturity, possesses a fixed abode, the monument of his industry. During -the bad season of the year, most of the others burrow or skulk in some temporary refuge, -a refuge obtained free of cost and abandoned without regret. Several create marvels, -with a view to settling their family: cotton satchels, baskets made of leaves, towers -of <span class="pageNum" id="pb307">[<a href="#pb307">307</a>]</span>cement. Some carnivorous larvæ dwell in permanent ambuscades, where they lie in wait -for their prey. The Tiger-beetle, among others, digs itself a perpendicular hole, -which it closes with its flat, bronze head. Whoever ventures on the insidious foot-bridge -vanishes down the gulf, whose trap-door at once tips up and disappears beneath the -feet of the wayfarer. The Ant-lion makes a funnel in the sand. The Ant slides down -its very loose slope and is bombarded with projectiles hurled from the bottom of the -crater by the hunter, who turns his neck into a catapult. But these are all temporary -refuges, nests or traps. -</p> -<p>The laboriously constructed residence, in which the insect settles down with no intention -of moving, either in the happy spring or the woful winter season; the real manor, -built for peace and comfort and not as a hunting-box or a nursery: this is known to -the Cricket alone. On some sunny, grassy slope he is the owner of a hermitage. While -all the others lead vagabond lives, sleeping in the open air or under the casual shelter -of a dead leaf, a stone, or the peeling bark of an old tree, he is a privileged person -with a permanent address. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb308">[<a href="#pb308">308</a>]</span></p> -<p>A serious problem is that of the home. It has been solved by the Cricket, by the Rabbit -and, lastly, by man. In my neighbourhood, the Fox and the Badger have holes the best -part of which is supplied by the irregularities of the rock. A few repairs; and the -dug-out is completed. Cleverer than they, the Rabbit builds his house by burrowing -wheresoever he pleases, when there is no natural passage that allows him to settle -down free of any trouble. -</p> -<p>The Cricket surpasses all of them. Scorning chance refuges, he always chooses the -site of his abode, in well-drained ground, with a pleasant sunny aspect. He refuses -to make use of fortuitous cavities, which are incommodious and rough; he digs every -bit of his villa, from the entrance-hall to the back-room. -</p> -<p>I see no one above him, in the art of house-building, except man; and even man, before -mixing mortar to hold stones together, before kneading clay to coat his hut of branches, -fought with wild beasts for the possession of a refuge in the rocks or an underground -cavern. -</p> -<p>Then how are the privileges of instinct distributed? Here is one of the humblest, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb309">[<a href="#pb309">309</a>]</span>able to lodge himself to perfection. He has a home, an advantage unknown to many civilized -beings; he has a peaceful retreat, the first condition of comfort; and nobody around -him is capable of settling down. He has no rivals until you come to ourselves. -</p> -<p>Whence does he derive this gift? Is he favoured with special tools? No, the Cricket -is not an incomparable excavator; in fact, one is rather surprised at the result when -one considers the feebleness of his resources. -</p> -<p>Can it be made necessary by the demands of an exceptionally delicate skin? No, among -his near kinsmen, other skins, no less sensitive than his, do not dread the open air -at all. -</p> -<p>Can it be a propensity inherent in the anatomical structure, a talent prescribed by -the secret promptings of the organism? No, my neighbourhood boasts three other Crickets -(<i lang="la">Gryllus bimaculatus</i>, <span class="sc">de Geer</span>; <i lang="la">G. desertus</i>, <span class="sc">Pallas.</span>; <i lang="la">G. burdigalensis</i><span class="corr" id="xd31e3461" title="Source: ;">,</span> <span class="sc">Latr.</span>), who are so like the Field Cricket in appearance, colour and structure that, at -the first glance, one would take them for him. The first is as large as he is, or -even larger. The second represents him reduced to about half <span class="pageNum" id="pb310">[<a href="#pb310">310</a>]</span>his size. The third is smaller still. Well, of these faithful copies, these doubles -of the Field Cricket, not one knows how to dig himself a burrow. The Double-spotted -Cricket inhabits those heaps of grass left to rot in damp places; the Solitary Cricket -roams about the crevices in the dry clods turned up by the gardener’s spade; the Bordeaux -Cricket is not afraid to make his way into our houses, where he sings discreetly, -during August and September, in some dark, cool spot. -</p> -<p>There is no object in continuing our questions: each would meet with no for an answer. -Instinct, which stands revealed here and disappears there despite organisms alike -in all respects, will never tell us its causes. It depends so little on an insect’s -stock of tools that no anatomical detail can explain it to us and still less make -us foresee it. The four almost identical Crickets, of whom one alone understands the -art of burrowing, add their evidence to the manifold proofs already supplied; they -confirm in a striking fashion our profound ignorance of the origin of instinct. -</p> -<p>Who does not know the Cricket’s abode! Who has not, as a child playing in <span class="pageNum" id="pb311">[<a href="#pb311">311</a>]</span>the fields, stopped in front of the hermit’s cabin! However light your footfall, he -has heard you coming and has abruptly withdrawn to the very bottom of his hiding-place. -When you arrive, the threshold of the house is deserted. -</p> -<p>Everybody knows the way to bring the skulker out. You insert a straw and move it gently -about the burrow. Surprised at what is happening above, tickled and teased, the Cricket -ascends from his secret apartment; he stops in the passage, hesitates and enquires -into things by waving his delicate antennæ; he comes to the light and, once outside, -he is easy to catch, so greatly have events puzzled his poor head. Should he be missed -at the first attempt, he may become more suspicious and obstinately resist the titillation -of the straw. In that case, we can flood him out with a glass of water. -</p> -<p>O those adorable times when we used to cage our Crickets and feed them on a leaf of -lettuce, those childish hunting-trips along the grassy paths! They all come back to -me to-day, as I explore the burrows in search of subjects for my studies; they appear -to me almost in their pristine freshness when my companion, little Paul, already an -expert in <span class="pageNum" id="pb312">[<a href="#pb312">312</a>]</span>the tactical use of the straw, springs up suddenly, after a long trial of skill and -patience with the recalcitrant, and, brandishing his closed hand in the air, cries, -excitedly: -</p> -<p>“I’ve got him, I’ve got him!” -</p> -<p>Quick, here’s a bag; in you go, my little Cricket! You shall be petted and pampered; -but mind you teach us something and, first of all, show us your house. -</p> -<p>It is a slanting gallery, situated in the grass, on some sunny bank which soon dries -after a shower. It is nine inches long at most, hardly as thick as one’s finger and -straight or bent according to the exigencies of the ground. As a rule, a tuft of grass, -which is respected by the Cricket when he goes out to browse upon the surrounding -turf, half-conceals the home, serving as a porch and throwing a discreet shade over -the entrance. The gently-sloping threshold, scrupulously raked and swept, is carried -for some distance. This is the belvedere on which, when everything is peaceful round -about, the Cricket sits and scrapes his fiddle. -</p> -<p>The inside of the house is devoid of luxury, with bare and yet not coarse walls. Ample -leisure allows the inhabitant to do away with any unpleasant roughness. At the <span class="pageNum" id="pb313">[<a href="#pb313">313</a>]</span>end of the passage is the bedroom, the terminal alcove, a little more carefully smoothed -than the rest and slightly wider. All said, it is a very simple abode, exceedingly -clean, free from damp and conforming with the requirements of a well-considered system -of hygiene. On the other hand, it is an enormous undertaking, a regular Cyclopean -tunnel, when we consider the modest means of excavation. Let us try to be present -at the work. Let us also enquire at what period the enterprise begins. This obliges -us to go back to the egg. -</p> -<p>Any one wishing to see the Cricket lay her eggs can do so without making great preparations: -all that he wants is a little patience, which, according to Buffon, is genius, but -which I, more modestly, will describe as the observer’s chief virtue. In April, or -at latest in May, we establish isolated couples of the insect in flower-pots containing -a layer of heaped-up earth. Their provisions consist of a lettuce-leaf renewed from -time to time. A square of glass covers the retreat and prevents escape. -</p> -<p>Some extremely interesting facts can be obtained with this simple installation, supplemented, -if need be, with a wire-gauze cover, <span class="pageNum" id="pb314">[<a href="#pb314">314</a>]</span>the best of all cages. We shall return to this matter. For the moment, let us watch -the laying and make sure that the propitious hour does not evade our vigilance. -</p> -<p>It is in the first week in June that my assiduous visits begin to show satisfactory -results. I surprise the mother standing motionless, with her ovipositor planted perpendicularly -in the soil. For a long time she remains stationed at the same point, heedless of -her indiscreet caller. At last she withdraws her dibble, removes, more or less perfunctorily, -the traces of the boring-hole, takes a moment’s rest, walks away and starts again -somewhere else, now here, now there, all over the area at her disposal. Her behaviour, -though her movements are slower, is a repetition of what the Decticus has shown us. -Her egg-laying appears to me to be ended within the twenty-four hours. For greater -certainty, I wait a couple of days longer. -</p> -<p>I then dig up the earth in the pot. The straw-coloured eggs are cylinders rounded -at both ends and measuring about one-ninth of an inch in length. They are placed singly -in the soil, arranged vertically and grouped in more or less numerous patches, which -correspond <span class="pageNum" id="pb315">[<a href="#pb315">315</a>]</span>with the successive layings. I find them all over the pot, at a depth of three-quarters -of an inch. There are difficulties in examining a mass of earth through a magnifying-glass; -but, allowing for these difficulties, I estimate the eggs laid by one mother at five -or six hundred. So large a family is sure to undergo a drastic purging before long. -</p> -<p>The Cricket’s egg is a little marvel of mechanism. After hatching, it appears as an -opaque white sheath, with a round and very regular aperture at the top; to the edge -of this a cap adheres, forming a lid. Instead of bursting anyhow under the thrusts -or cuts of the new-born larva, it opens of its own accord along a specially prepared -line of least resistance. -</p> -<p>It became important to observe the curious hatching. About a fortnight after the egg -is laid, two large, round, rusty-black eye-dots darken the front end. A little way -above these two dots, right at the apex of the cylinder, you see the outline of a -thin circular swelling. This is the line of rupture which is preparing. Soon the translucency -of the egg enables the observer to perceive the delicate segmentation of the tiny -creature <span class="pageNum" id="pb316">[<a href="#pb316">316</a>]</span>within. Now is the time to redouble our vigilance and multiply our visits, especially -in the morning. -</p> -<p>Fortune, which loves the persevering, rewards me for my assiduity. All round this -swelling where, by a process of infinite delicacy, the line of least resistance has -been prepared, the end of the egg, pushed back by the inmate’s forehead, becomes detached, -rises and falls to one side like the top of a miniature scent-bottle. The Cricket -pops out like a Jack-in-the-box. -</p> -<p>When he is gone, the shell remains distended, smooth, intact, pure white, with the -cap or lid hanging from the opening. A bird’s egg breaks clumsily under the blows -of a wart that grows for the purpose at the end of the chick’s beak; the Cricket’s -egg, endowed with a superior mechanism, opens like an ivory case. The thrust of the -inmate’s head is enough to work the hinge. -</p> -<p>The hatching of the eggs is hastened by the glorious weather; and the observer’s patience -is not much tried, the rapidity rivalling that of the Dung-beetles. The summer solstice -has not yet arrived when the ten couples interned under glass for the benefit of my -studies are surrounded by their <span class="pageNum" id="pb317">[<a href="#pb317">317</a>]</span>numerous progeny. The egg-stage, therefore, lasts just about ten days. -</p> -<p>I said above that, when the lid of the ivory case is lifted, a young Cricket pops -out. This is not quite accurate. What appears at the opening is the swaddled grub, -as yet unrecognizable in a tight-fitting sheath. I expected to see this wrapper, this -first set of baby-clothes, for the same reasons that made me anticipate it in the -case of the Decticus: -</p> -<p>“The Cricket,” said I to myself, “is born underground. He also sports two very long -antennæ and a pair of overgrown hind-legs, all of which are cumbrous appendages at -the time of the emergence. He must therefore possess a tunic in which to make his -exit.” -</p> -<p>My forecast, correct enough in principle, was only partly confirmed. The new-born -Cricket does in fact possess a temporary structure; but, so far from employing it -for the purpose of hoisting himself outside, he throws off his clothes as he passes -out of the egg. -</p> -<p>To what circumstances are we to attribute this departure from the usual practice? -Perhaps to this: the Cricket’s egg stays in the ground for only a few days before -hatching; the egg of the Decticus remains there for <span class="pageNum" id="pb318">[<a href="#pb318">318</a>]</span>eight months. The former, save for rare exceptions in a season of drought, lies under -a thin layer of dry, loose, unresisting earth; the latter, on the contrary, finds -itself in soil which has been caked together by the persistent rains of autumn and -winter and which therefore presents serious difficulties. Moreover, the Cricket is -shorter and stouter, less long-shanked than the Decticus. These would appear to be -the reasons for the difference between the two insects in respect of their methods -of emerging. The Decticus, born lower down, under a close-packed layer, needs a climbing-costume -with which the Cricket is able to dispense, being less hampered and nearer to the -surface and having only a powdery layer of earth to pass through. -</p> -<p>Then what is the object of the tights which the Cricket flings aside as soon as he -is out of the egg? I will answer this question with another: what is the object of -the two white stumps, the two pale-coloured embryo wings carried by the Cricket under -his wing-cases, which are turned into a great mechanism of sound? They are so insignificant, -so feeble that the insect certainly makes no use of them, any more than the <span class="pageNum" id="pb319">[<a href="#pb319">319</a>]</span>Dog utilizes the thumb that hangs limp and lifeless at the back of his paw. -</p> -<p>Sometimes, for reasons of symmetry, the walls of a house are painted with imitation -windows to balance the other windows, which are real. This is done out of respect -for order, the supreme condition of the beautiful. In the same way, life has its symmetries, -its repetitions of a general prototype. When abolishing an organ that has ceased to -be employed, it leaves vestiges of it to maintain the primitive arrangement. -</p> -<p>The Dog’s rudimentary thumb predicates the five-fingered hand that characterizes the -higher animals; the Cricket’s wing-stumps are evidence that the insect would normally -be capable of flight; the moult undergone on the threshold of the egg is reminiscent -of the tight-fitting wrapper needed for the laborious exit of the Locustidæ born underground. -They are so many symmetrical superfluities, so many remains of a law that has fallen -into disuse but never been abrogated. -</p> -<p>As soon as he is deprived of his delicate tunic, the young Cricket, pale all over, -almost white, begins to battle with the soil overhead. He hits out with his mandibles; -he sweeps aside and kicks behind him the <span class="pageNum" id="pb320">[<a href="#pb320">320</a>]</span>powdery obstruction, which offers no resistance. Behold him on the surface, amidst -the joys of the sunlight and the perils of conflict with the living, poor, feeble -creature that he is, hardly larger than a Flea. In twenty-four hours he colours and -turns into a magnificent blackamoor, whose ebon hue vies with that of the adult insect. -All that remains of his original pallor is a white sash that girds his chest and reminds -us of a baby’s leading-string. Very nimble and alert, he sounds the surrounding space -with his long, quivering antennæ, runs about and jumps with an impetuosity in which -his future obesity will forbid him to indulge. -</p> -<p>This is also the age when the stomach is still delicate. What sort of food does he -need? I do not know. I offer him the adult’s treat, tender lettuce-leaves. He scorns -to touch them, or perhaps he takes mouthfuls so exceedingly small that they escape -me. -</p> -<p>In a few days, with my ten households, I find myself overwhelmed with family cares. -What am I to do with my five or six thousand Crickets, a pretty flock, no doubt, but -impossible to rear in my ignorance of the treatment required? I will <span class="pageNum" id="pb321">[<a href="#pb321">321</a>]</span>set you at liberty, my little dears; I will entrust you to nature, the sovran nurse. -</p> -<p>Thus it comes to pass. I release my legions in the enclosure, here, there and everywhere, -in the best places. What a concert I shall have outside my door next year, if they -all turn out well! But no, the symphony will probably be one of silence, for the savage -pruning due to the mother’s fertility is bound to come. All that I can hope for is -that a few couples may survive extermination. -</p> -<p>As in the case of the young Praying Mantes, the first that hasten to this manna and -the most eager for the slaughter are the little Grey Lizard and the Ant. The latter, -loathsome freebooter that she is, will, I fear, not leave me a single Cricket in the -garden. She snaps up the poor little creatures, eviscerates them and gobbles them -down at frantic speed. -</p> -<p>Oh, the execrable wretch! And to think that we place the Ant in the front rank of -insects! Books are written in her honour and the stream of eulogy never ceases; the -naturalists hold her in the greatest esteem and add daily to her reputation, so true -is it, among animals as among men, that of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb322">[<a href="#pb322">322</a>]</span>various ways of making history, the surest way is to do harm to others.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3539src" href="#xd31e3539">6</a> -</p> -<p>Nobody asks after the Dung-beetle and the Necrophorus,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3547src" href="#xd31e3547">7</a> invaluable scavengers both, whereas everybody knows the Gnat, that drinker of men’s -blood; the Wasp, that hot-tempered swashbuckler, with her poisoned dagger; and the -Ant, that notorious evil-doer, who, in our southern villages, saps and imperils the -rafters of a dwelling with the same zest with which she devours a fig. I need not -trouble to say more: every one will discover in the records of mankind similar instances -of usefulness ignored and frightfulness exalted. -</p> -<p>The massacre instituted by the Ants and other exterminators is so great that my erstwhile -populous colonies in the enclosure become too small to enable me to continue my observations; -and I am driven to have recourse to information outside. In August, among the fallen -leaves, in those little oases where the grass has not been wholly scorched by the -sun, I find the young Cricket already rather big, black all over like the adult, <span class="pageNum" id="pb323">[<a href="#pb323">323</a>]</span>with not a vestige of the white girdle of his early days. He has no domicile. The -shelter of a dead leaf, the cover of a flat stone are enough for him; they represent -the tents of a nomad who cares not where he lays his head. -</p> -<p>This vagabond life continues until the middle of autumn. It is then that the Yellow-winged -Sphex<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3557src" href="#xd31e3557">8</a> hunts down the wanderers, an easy prey, and stores her bag of Crickets underground. -She decimates those who have survived the Ants’ devastating raids. A settled dwelling, -dug a few weeks before the usual time, would save them from the spoilers. The sorely-tried -victims do not think of it. The bitter experience of the centuries has taught them -nothing. Though already strong enough to dig a protecting burrow, they remain invincibly -faithful to their ancient customs and would go on roaming though the Sphex stabbed -the last of their race. -</p> -<p>It is at the close of October, when the first cold weather threatens, that the burrow -is taken in hand. The work is very simple, judging by the little that my observation -of <span class="pageNum" id="pb324">[<a href="#pb324">324</a>]</span>the caged insect has shown me. The digging is never done at a bare point in the pan, -but always under the shelter of a withered lettuce-leaf, some remnant of the food -provided. This takes the place of the grass screen that seems indispensable to the -secrecy of the establishment. -</p> -<p>The miner scrapes with his fore-legs and uses the pincers of his mandibles to extract -the larger bits of gravel. I see him stamping with his powerful hind-legs, furnished -with a double row of spikes; I see him raking the rubbish, sweeping it backwards and -spreading it slantwise. There you have the method in its entirety. -</p> -<p>The work proceeds pretty quickly at first. In the yielding soil of my cages, the digger -disappears underground after a spell that lasts a couple of hours. He returns to the -entrance at intervals, always backwards and always sweeping. Should he be overcome -with fatigue, he takes a rest on the threshold of his half-finished home, with his -head outside and his antennæ waving feebly. He goes in again and resumes work with -pincers and rakes. Soon the periods of repose become longer and wear out my patience. -</p> -<p>The most urgent part of the work is done. <span class="pageNum" id="pb325">[<a href="#pb325">325</a>]</span>Once the hole is a couple of inches deep, it suffices for the needs of the moment. -The rest will be a long-winded business, resumed in a leisurely fashion, a little -one day and a little the next; the hole will be made deeper and wider as demanded -by the inclemencies of the weather and the growth of the insect. Even in winter, if -the temperature be mild and the sun playing over the entrance to the dwelling, it -is not unusual to see the Cricket shooting out rubbish, a sign of repairs and fresh -excavations. Amidst the joys of spring, the upkeep of the building still continues. -It is constantly undergoing improvements and repairs until the owner’s decease. -</p> -<p>April comes to an end and the Cricket’s song begins, at first in rare and shy solos, -soon developing into a general symphony in which each clod of turf boasts its performer. -I am more than inclined to place the Cricket at the head of the spring choristers. -In our waste lands, when the thyme and the lavender are gaily flowering, he has as -his partner the Crested Lark, who rises like a lyrical rocket, his throat swelling -with notes, and from the sky, invisible in the clouds, sheds his sweet music upon -the fallows. Down below the Crickets chant the responses. Their <span class="pageNum" id="pb326">[<a href="#pb326">326</a>]</span>song is monotonous and artless, but so well-suited, in its very crudity, to the rustic -gladness of renascent life! It is the hosanna of the awakening, the sacred alleluia -understood by swelling seed and sprouting blade. Who deserves the palm in this duet? -I should award it to the Cricket. He surpasses them all, thanks to his numbers and -his unceasing note. Were the Lark to fall silent, the fields blue-grey with lavender, -swinging its fragrant censers before the sun, would still receive from this humble -chorister a solemn celebration. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb327">[<a href="#pb327">327</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e3285"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3285src">1</a></span> </p> -<div class="q"> -<div class="nestedtext"> -<div class="nestedbody"> -<div class="lgouter footnote"> -<p class="line">“Fare thee well, good neighbour Cricket; from thy presence I must flee; </p> -<p class="line">Mine ears also will be taken for a pair of horns,” said he. </p> -<p class="line">“Horns, i’ faith!” the Cricket answered. “Is thy servant mad or blind? </p> -<p class="line">Those are ears which thy Creator with His own hand hath designed!” </p> -<p class="line">“Yet the world will one day call them horns,” his fellow made reply, </p> -<p class="line">“And ere that day dawn, my neighbour, I will bid this place good-bye.” </p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div><p></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3303"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3303src">2</a></span> Jean Pierre Claris de Florian (1755–1794), Voltaire’s grand-nephew, the leading French -fabulist, after La Fontaine.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3303src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3319" lang="en"> -<p class="footnote" lang="en"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3319src">3</a></span> </p> -<div class="q"> -<div class="nestedtext"> -<div class="nestedbody"> -<div class="lgouter footnote"> -<p class="line">“My snug little home is a place of delight: </p> -<p class="line">If you want to live happy, live hidden from sight!” </p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div><p></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3348" lang="en"> -<p class="footnote" lang="en"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3348src">4</a></span> My friend, who is always accurate in his descriptions, is here speaking, if I be not -mistaken, of the Swallow-tail.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3348src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3419"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3419src">5</a></span> For the translation of these and the other verses in this chapter I am indebted to -my friend Mr. Stephen McKenna.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3419src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3539"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3539src">6</a></span> For the author’s only essay on Ants, cf. <i>The Mason-bees</i>: chap. vi.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3539src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3547"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3547src">7</a></span> Or Burying-beetle.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3547src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3557"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3557src">8</a></span> Cf. <i>The Hunting Wasps</i>: chaps. iv to vii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3557src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch16" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e353">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XVI</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE CRICKET: THE SONG; THE PAIRING</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">In steps anatomy and says to the Cricket, bluntly: -</p> -<p>“Show us your musical-box.” -</p> -<p>Like all things of real value, it is very simple; it is based on the same principle -as that of the Grasshoppers: a bow with a hook to it and a vibrating membrane. The -right wing-case overlaps the left and covers it almost completely, except where it -folds back sharply and encases the insect’s side. It is the converse of what we see -in the Green Grasshopper, the Decticus, the Ephippiger and their kinsmen. The Cricket -is right-handed, the others left-handed. -</p> -<p>The two wing-cases have exactly the same structure. To know one is to know the other. -Let us describe the one on the right. It is almost flat on the back and slants suddenly -at the side in a right-angled fold, encircling the abdomen with a pinion which <span class="pageNum" id="pb328">[<a href="#pb328">328</a>]</span>has delicate, parallel veins running in an oblique direction. The dorsal surface has -stronger and more prominent nervures, of a deep-black colour, which, taken together, -form a strange, complicated design, bearing some resemblance to the hieroglyphics -of an Arabic manuscript. -</p> -<p>By holding it up to the light, one can see that it is a very pale red, save for two -large adjoining spaces, a larger, triangular one in front and a smaller, oval one -at the back. Each is framed in a prominent nervure and scored with faint wrinkles. -The first, moreover, is strengthened with four or five chevrons; the second with only -one, which is bow-shaped. These two areas represent the Grasshoppers’ mirror; they -constitute the sounding-areas. The skin is finer here than elsewhere and transparent, -though of a somewhat smoky tint. -</p> -<p>The front part, which is smooth and slightly red in hue, is bounded at the back by -two curved, parallel veins, having between them a cavity containing a row of five -or six little black wrinkles that look like the rungs of a tiny ladder. The left wing-case -presents an exact duplicate of the right. The wrinkles constitute the friction-nervures -<span class="pageNum" id="pb329">[<a href="#pb329">329</a>]</span>which intensify the vibration by increasing the number of the points that are touched -by the bow. -</p> -<p>On the lower surface, one of the two veins that surround the cavity with the rungs -becomes a rib cut into the shape of a hook. This is the bow. I count in it about a -hundred and fifty triangular teeth or prisms of exquisite geometrical perfection. -</p> -<p>It is a fine instrument indeed, far superior to that of the Decticus. The hundred -and fifty prisms of the bow, biting into the rungs of the opposite wing-case, set -the four drums in motion at one and the same time, the lower pair by direct friction, -the upper pair by the shaking of the friction-apparatus. What a rush of sound! The -Decticus, endowed with a single paltry mirror, can be heard just a few steps away; -the Cricket, possessing four vibratory areas, throws his ditty to a distance of some -hundreds of yards. -</p> -<p>He vies with the Cicada in shrillness, without having the latter’s disagreeable harshness. -Better still: this favoured one knows how to modulate his song. The wing-cases, as -we said, extend over either side in a wide fold. These are the dampers <span class="pageNum" id="pb330">[<a href="#pb330">330</a>]</span>which, lowered to a greater or lesser depth, alter the intensity of the sound and, -according to the extent of their contact with the soft abdomen, allow the insect to -sing <i lang="it">mezza voce</i> at one time and <i lang="it">fortissimo</i> at another. -</p> -<p>The exact similarity of the two wing-cases is worthy of attention. I can see clearly -the function of the upper bow and the four sounding-areas which it sets in motion; -but what is the good of the lower one, the bow on the left wing? Not resting on anything, -it has nothing to strike with its hook, which is as carefully toothed as the other. -It is absolutely useless, unless the apparatus can invert the order of its two parts -and place that above which was below. After such an inversion, the perfect symmetry -of the instrument would cause the necessary mechanism to be reproduced in every respect -and the insect would be able to stridulate with the hook which is at present unemployed. -It would scrape away as usual with its lower fiddlestick, now become the upper; and -the tune would remain the same. -</p> -<p>Is this permutation within its power? Can the insect use both pot-hooks, changing -from one to the other when it grows tired, <span class="pageNum" id="pb331">[<a href="#pb331">331</a>]</span>which would mean that it could keep up its music all the longer? Or are there at least -some Crickets who are permanently left-handed? I expected to find this the case, because -of the absolute symmetry of the wing-cases. Observation convinced me of the contrary. -I have never come across a Cricket that failed to conform with the general rule. All -those whom I have examined—and they are many—without a single exception carried the -right wing-case above the left. -</p> -<p>Let us try to interfere and to bring about by artifice what natural conditions refuse -to show us. Using my forceps, very gently, of course, and without straining the wing-cases, -I make these overlap the opposite way. This result is easily obtained with a little -dexterity and patience. The thing is done. Everything is in order. There is no dislocation -at the shoulders; the membranes are without a crease. Things could not be better-arranged -under normal conditions. -</p> -<p>Was the Cricket going to sing, with his inverted instrument? I was almost expecting -it, appearances were so much in its favour; but I was soon undeceived. The insect -submits for a few moments; then, finding <span class="pageNum" id="pb332">[<a href="#pb332">332</a>]</span>the inversion uncomfortable, it makes an effort and restores the instrument to its -regular position. In vain I repeat the operation: the Cricket’s obstinacy triumphs -over mine. The displaced wing-cases always resume their normal arrangement. There -is nothing to be done in this direction. -</p> -<p>Shall I be more successful if I make my attempt while the wing-cases are still immature? -At the actual moment, they are stiff membranes, resisting any changes. The fold is -already there; it is at the outset that the material should be manipulated. What shall -we learn from organs that are quite new and still plastic, if we invert them as soon -as they appear? The thing is worth trying. -</p> -<p>For this purpose, I go to the larva and watch for the moment of its metamorphosis, -a sort of second birth. The future wings and wing-cases form four tiny flaps which, -by their shape and their scantiness, as well as by the way in which they stick out -in different directions, remind me of the short jackets worn by the Auvergne cheese-makers. -I am most assiduous in my attendance, lest I should miss the propitious moment, and -at last have a chance to witness the moulting. <span class="pageNum" id="pb333">[<a href="#pb333">333</a>]</span>In the early part of May, at about eleven in the morning, a larva casts off its rustic -garments before my eyes. The transformed Cricket is now a reddish brown, all but the -wings and wing-cases, which are beautifully white. -</p> -<p>Both wings and wing-cases, which only issued from their sheaths quite recently, are -no more than short, crinkly stumps. The former remain in this rudimentary state, or -nearly so. The latter gradually develop bit by bit and open out; their inner edges, -with a movement too slow to be perceived, meet one another, on the same plane and -at the same level. There is no sign to tell us which of the two wing-cases will overlap -the other. The two edges are now touching. A few moments longer and the right will -be above the left. This is the time to intervene. -</p> -<p>With a straw I gently change the position, bringing the left edge over the right. -The insect protests a little and disturbs my manœuvring. I insist, while taking every -possible care not to endanger these tender organs, which look as though they were -cut out of wet tissue-paper. And I am quite successful: the left wing-case pushes -forward above the right, but only very little, barely <span class="pageNum" id="pb334">[<a href="#pb334">334</a>]</span>a twenty-fifth of an inch. We will leave it alone: things will now go of themselves. -</p> -<p>They go as well as one could wish, in fact. Continuing to spread, the left wing-case -ends by entirely covering the other. At three o’clock in the afternoon, the Cricket -has changed from a reddish hue to black, but the wing-cases are still white. Two hours -more and they also will possess the normal colouring. -</p> -<p>It is over. The wing-cases have come to maturity under the artificial arrangement; -they have opened out and moulded themselves according to my plans; they have taken -breadth and consistency and have been born, so to speak, in an inverted position. -As things now are, the Cricket is left-handed. Will he definitely remain so? It seems -to me that he will; and my hopes rise higher on the morrow and the day after, for -the wing-cases continue, without any trouble, in their unusual arrangement. I expect -soon to see the artist wield that particular fiddlestick which the members of his -family never employ. I redouble my watchfulness, so as to witness his first attempt -at playing the violin. -</p> -<p>On the third day, the novice makes a <span class="pageNum" id="pb335">[<a href="#pb335">335</a>]</span>start. A few brief grating sounds are heard, the noise of a machine out of gear shifting -its parts back into their proper order. Then the song begins, with its accustomed -tone and rhythm. -</p> -<p>Veil your face, O foolish experimenter, overconfident in your mischievous straw! You -thought that you had created a new type of instrumentalist; and you have obtained -nothing at all. The Cricket has thwarted your schemes: he is scraping with his right -fiddlestick and always will. With a painful effort, he has dislocated his shoulders, -which were made to mature and harden the wrong way; and, in spite of a set that seemed -definite, he has put back on top that which ought to be on top and underneath that -which ought to be underneath. Your sorry science tried to make a left-handed player -of him. He laughs at your devices and settles down to be right-handed for the rest -of his life. -</p> -<p>Franklin left an eloquent plea on behalf of the left hand, which, he considered, deserved -as careful training as its fellow. What an immense advantage it would be thus to have -two servants each as capable as the other! Yes, certainly; but, except for <span class="pageNum" id="pb336">[<a href="#pb336">336</a>]</span>a few rare instances, is this equality of strength and skill in the two hands possible? -</p> -<p>The Cricket answers no: there is an original weakness in the left side, a want of -balance, which habit and training can to a certain extent correct, but which they -can never cause wholly to disappear. Though shaped by a training which takes it at -its birth and moulds and solidifies it on the top of the other, the left wing-case -none the less resumes the lower position when the insect tries to sing. As to the -cause of this original inferiority, that is a problem which belongs to embryogenesis. -</p> -<p>My failure confirms the fact that the left wing-case is unable to make use of its -bow, even when supplemented by the aid of art. Then what is the object of that hook -whose exquisite precision yields in no respect to that of the other? We might appeal -to reasons of symmetry and talk about the repetition of an archetypal design, as I, -for want of a better argument, did just now in the matter of the cast raiment which -the young Cricket leaves on the threshold of his ovular sheath; but I prefer to confess -that this would be but the semblance of an explanation, wrapped up in specious language. -For the Decticus, <span class="pageNum" id="pb337">[<a href="#pb337">337</a>]</span>the Grasshopper and the other Locustidæ would come and show us their wing-cases, one -with the bow only, the other with the mirror, and say: -</p> -<p>“Why should the Cricket, our near kinsman, be symmetrical, whereas all of us Locustidæ, -without exception, are asymmetrical?” -</p> -<p>There is no valid answer to their objection. Let us confess our ignorance and humbly -say: -</p> -<p>“I do not know.” -</p> -<p>It wants but a Midge’s wing to confound our proudest theories. -</p> -<p>Enough of the instrument; let us listen to the music. The Cricket sings on the threshold -of his house, in the cheerful sunshine, never indoors. The wing-cases, lifted in a -double inclined plane and now only partly covering each other, utter their stridulant -<i>cri-cri</i> in a soft tremolo. It is full, sonorous, nicely cadenced and lasts indefinitely. -Thus are the leisures of solitude beguiled all through the spring. The anchorite at -first sings for his own pleasure. Glad to be alive, he chants the praises of the sun -that shines upon him, the grass that feeds him, the peaceful retreat that harbours -him. The <span class="pageNum" id="pb338">[<a href="#pb338">338</a>]</span>first object of his bow is to hymn the blessings of life. -</p> -<p>The hermit also sings for the benefit of his fair neighbours. The Cricket’s nuptials -would, I warrant, present a curious scene, if it were possible to follow their details -far from the commotions of captivity. To seek an opportunity would be labour lost, -for the insect is very shy. I must await one. Shall I ever find it? I do not despair, -in spite of the extraordinary difficulty. For the moment, let us be satisfied with -what we can learn from probability and the vivarium. -</p> -<p>The two sexes dwell apart. Both are extremely domestic in their habits. Whose business -is it to make a move? Does the caller go in search of the called? Does the serenaded -one come to the serenader? If, at pairing-time, sound were the sole guide where homes -are far apart, it would be necessary for the silent partner to go to the noisy one’s -trysting-place. But I imagine that, in order to save appearances—and this accords -with what I learn from my prisoners—the Cricket has special faculties that guide him -towards his mute lady-love. -</p> -<p>When and how is the meeting effected? I suspect that things take place in the friendly -<span class="pageNum" id="pb339">[<a href="#pb339">339</a>]</span>gloaming and upon the very threshold of the bride’s home, upon that sanded esplanade, -that state courtyard, which lies just outside the entrance. -</p> -<p>A nocturnal journey like this, at some twenty paces’ distance, is a serious undertaking -for the Cricket. When he has accomplished his pilgrimage, how will he, the stay-at-home, -with his imperfect knowledge of topography, find his own house again? To return to -his Penates must be impossible. He roams, I fear, at random, with no place to lay -his head. He has neither the time nor the heart to dig himself the new burrow which -would be his salvation; and he dies a wretched death, forming a savoury mouthful for -the Toad on his night rounds. His visit to the lady Cricket has cost him his home -and his life. What does he care! He has done his duty as a Cricket. -</p> -<p>This is how I picture events when I combine the probabilities of the open country -with the realities of the vivarium. I have several couples in one cage. As a rule, -my captives refrain from digging themselves a dwelling. The hour has passed for any -long waiting or long wooing. They wander about the enclosed space, without troubling -about <span class="pageNum" id="pb340">[<a href="#pb340">340</a>]</span>a fixed home, or else lie low under the shelter of a lettuce-leaf. -</p> -<p>Peace reigns in the household until the quarrelsome instincts of pairing-time break -out. Then affrays between suitors are frequent and lively, though not serious. The -two rivals stand face to face, bite each other in the head, that solid, fang-proof -helmet, roll each other over, pick themselves up and separate. The vanquished Cricket -makes off as fast as he can; the victor insults him with a boastful ditty; then, moderating -his tone, he veers and tacks around the object of his desires. -</p> -<p>He makes himself look smart and, at the same time, submissive. Gripping one of his -antennæ with a claw, he takes it in his mandibles to curl it and grease it with saliva. -With his long spurred and red-striped hind-legs, he stamps the ground impatiently -and kicks out at nothing. His emotion renders him dumb. His wing-cases, it is true, -quiver rapidly, but they give forth no sound, or at most an agitated rustling. -</p> -<p>A vain declaration! The female Cricket runs and hides herself in a curly bit of lettuce. -She lifts the curtain a little, however, and looks out and wishes to be seen. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb341">[<a href="#pb341">341</a>]</span></p> -<div lang="la" class="lgouter"> -<p class="line"><i>Et fugit ad salices; et se cupit ante videri</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3677src" href="#xd31e3677">1</a> </p> -</div> -<p class="first">said the delightful eclogue, two thousand years ago. Thrice-consecrated strategy of -love, thou art everywhere the same! -</p> -<p>The song is resumed, intersected by silences and murmuring quavers. Touched by so -much passion, Galatea, I mean Dame Cricket, issues from her hiding-place. The other -goes up to her, suddenly spins round, turns his back to her and flattens his abdomen -against the ground. Crawling backwards, he makes repeated efforts to slip underneath. -The curious backward manœuvre at last succeeds. Gently, my little one, gently! Discreetly -flattened out, you manage to slide under. That’s done it! We have our couple. A spermatophore, -a granule smaller than a pin’s head, hangs where it ought to. The meadows will have -their Crickets next year. -</p> -<p>The laying of the eggs follows soon after. Then this cohabitation in couples in a -cage often brings about domestic quarrels. The father is knocked about and crippled; -his <span class="pageNum" id="pb342">[<a href="#pb342">342</a>]</span>violin is smashed to bits. Outside my cells, in the open fields, the hen-pecked husband -is able to take to flight; and that indeed is what he appears to do, not without good -reason. -</p> -<p>This ferocious aversion of the mother for the father, even among the most peaceable, -gives food for thought. The sweetheart of but now, if he come within reach of the -lady’s teeth, is eaten more or less; he does not escape from the final interviews -without leaving a leg or two and some shreds of wing-cases behind him. Locusts and -Crickets, those lingering representatives of a bygone world, tell us that the male, -a mere secondary wheel in life’s original mechanism, has to disappear at short notice -and make room for the real propagator, the real worker, the mother. -</p> -<p>Later, in the higher order of creation, sometimes even among insects, he is awarded -a task as a collaborator; and nothing better could be desired: the family must needs -gain by it. But the Cricket, faithful to the old traditions, has not yet got so far. -Therefore the object of yesterday’s longing becomes to-day an object of hatred, ill-treated, -disembowelled and eaten up. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb343">[<a href="#pb343">343</a>]</span></p> -<p>Even when free to escape from his pugnacious mate, the superannuated Cricket soon -perishes, a victim to life. In June, all my captives succumb, some dying a natural, -others a violent death. The mothers survive for some time in the midst of their newly-hatched -family. But things happen differently when the males have the advantage of remaining -bachelors: they then enjoy a remarkable longevity. Let me relate the facts. -</p> -<p>We are told that the music-loving Greeks used to keep Cicadæ in cages, the better -to enjoy their singing. I venture to disbelieve the whole story. In the first place, -the harsh clicking of the Cicadæ, when long continued at close quarters, is a torture -to ears that are at all delicate. The Greeks’ sense of hearing was too well-disciplined -to take pleasure in such raucous sounds away from the general concert of the fields, -which is heard at a distance. -</p> -<p>In the second place, it is absolutely impossible to bring up Cicadæ in captivity, -unless we cover over an olive-tree or a plane-tree, which would supply us with a vivarium -very difficult to instal on a window-sill. A single day spent in a cramped enclosure -<span class="pageNum" id="pb344">[<a href="#pb344">344</a>]</span>would make the high-flying insect die of boredom. -</p> -<p>Is it not possible that people have confused the Cricket with the Cicada, as they -also do the Green Grasshopper? With the Cricket they would be quite right. He is one -who bears captivity gaily: his stay-at-home ways predispose him to it. He lives happily -and whirrs without ceasing in a cage no larger than a man’s fist, provided that we -serve him with his lettuce-leaf every day. Was it not he whom the small boys of Athens -reared in little wire cages hanging on a window-frame? -</p> -<p>Their successors in Provence and all over the south have the same tastes. In the towns, -a Cricket becomes the child’s treasured possession. The insect, petted and pampered, -tells him in its ditty of the simple joys of the country. Its death throws the whole -household into a sort of mourning. -</p> -<p>Well, these recluses, these compulsory celibates, live to be patriarchs. They keep -fit and well long after their cronies in the fields have succumbed; and they go on -singing till September. Those additional three months, a long space of time, double -their existence in the adult form. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb345">[<a href="#pb345">345</a>]</span></p> -<p>The cause of this longevity is obvious. Nothing wears one out so quickly as life. -The wild Crickets have gaily spent their reserves of energy on the ladies; the more -fervent their ardour, the speedier their dissolution. The others, their incarcerated -kinsmen, leading a very quiet life, have acquired a further period of existence by -reason of their forced abstinence from too costly joys. Having neglected to perform -the superlative duty of a Cricket, they obstinately refuse to die until the very last -moment. -</p> -<p>A brief study of the three other Crickets of my neighbourhood has taught me nothing -of any interest. Possessing no fixed abode, no burrow, they wander about from one -temporary shelter to another, under the dry grass or in the cracks of the clods. They -all carry the same musical instrument as the Field Cricket, with slight variations -of detail. Their song is much alike in all cases, allowing for differences of size. -The smallest of the family, the Bordeaux Cricket, stridulates outside my door, under -the cover of the box borders. He even ventures into the dark corners of the kitchen, -but his song is so faint that it takes a very attentive ear <span class="pageNum" id="pb346">[<a href="#pb346">346</a>]</span>to hear it and to discover at last where the insect lies hidden. -</p> -<p>In our part of the world, we do not have the House Cricket, that denizen of bakers’ -shops and rural fireplaces. But, though the crevices under the hearthstones in my -village are silent, the summer nights make amends by filling the country-side with -a charming symphony unknown in the north. Spring, during its sunniest hours, has the -Field Cricket as its musician; the calm summer nights have the Italian Cricket (<i lang="la">Œcanthus pellucens</i>, <span class="sc">Scop.</span>). One diurnal, the other nocturnal, they share the fine weather between them. By -the time that the first has ceased to sing, it is not long before the other begins -his serenade. -</p> -<p>The Italian Cricket has not the black dress and the clumsy shape characteristic of -the family. He is, on the contrary, a slender, fragile insect, quite pale, almost -white, as beseems his nocturnal habits. You are afraid of crushing him, if you merely -take him in your fingers. He leads an aerial existence on shrubs of every kind, or -on the taller grasses; and he rarely descends to earth. His song, the sweet music -of the still, hot evenings from July to October, begins at <span class="pageNum" id="pb347">[<a href="#pb347">347</a>]</span>sunset and continues for the best part of the night. -</p> -<p>This song is known to everybody here, for the smallest clump of bushes has its orchestra. -It is heard even in the granaries, into which the insect sometimes strays, attracted -by the fodder. But the pale Cricket’s ways are so mysterious that nobody knows exactly -the source of the serenade, which is very erroneously ascribed to the Common Black -Cricket, who at this period is quite young and silent. -</p> -<p>The song is a soft, slow <i>gri-i-i, gri-i-i</i>, which is rendered more expressive by a slight tremolo. On hearing it, we divine -both the extreme delicacy and the size of the vibrating membranes. If nothing happen -to disturb the insect, settled in the lower leaves, the sound remains unaltered; but, -at the least noise, the executant becomes a ventriloquist. You heard him here, quite -close, in front of you; and now, all of a sudden, you hear him over there, fifteen -yards away, continuing his ditty softened by distance. -</p> -<p>You move across. Nothing. The sound comes from the original place. No, it doesn’t, -after all. This time, it is coming from over there, on the left, or rather from <span class="pageNum" id="pb348">[<a href="#pb348">348</a>]</span>the right; or is it from behind? We are absolutely at a loss, quite unable to guide -ourselves by the ear towards the spot where the insect is chirping. -</p> -<p>It needs a fine stock of patience and the most minute precautions to capture the singer -by the light of a lantern. The few specimens caught under these conditions and caged -have supplied me with the little that I know about the musician who is so clever at -baffling our ears. -</p> -<p>The wing-cases are both formed of a broad, dry, diaphanous membrane, fine as a white -onion-skin and capable of vibrating throughout its whole area. They are shaped like -a segment of a circle thinning towards the upper end. This segment folds back at right -angles along a prominent longitudinal vein and forms a flap which encloses the insect’s -side when at rest. -</p> -<p>The right wing-case lies above the left. Its inner edge bears underneath, near the -root, a knob which is the starting-point of five radiating veins, of which two run -upwards, two downwards and the fifth almost transversely. The last-named, which is -slightly reddish, is the main part, in short the bow, as is shown by the fine notches -cut <span class="pageNum" id="pb349">[<a href="#pb349">349</a>]</span>across it. The rest of the wing-case presents a few other veins of minor importance, -which keep the membrane taut without forming part of the friction-apparatus. -</p> -<p>The left or lower wing-case is similarly constructed, with this difference that the -bow, the knob and the veins radiating from it now occupy the upper surface. We find, -moreover, that the two bows, the right and the left, cross each other obliquely. -</p> -<p>When the song has its full volume, the wing-cases, raised high up and resembling a -pair of large gauze sails, touch only at their inner edges. Then the two bows fit -into each other slantwise and their mutual friction produces the sonorous vibration -of the two stretched membranes. -</p> -<p>The sound appears to be modified according as the strokes of each bow bear upon the -knob, which is itself wrinkled, on the opposite wing-case, or upon one of the four -smooth radiating veins. This would go some way towards explaining the illusions produced -by music which seems to come from here, there and everywhere when the timid insect -becomes distrustful. -</p> -<p>The illusion of loud or soft, open or muffled sounds and consequently of distance, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb350">[<a href="#pb350">350</a>]</span>which forms the chief resource of the ventriloquist’s art, has another, easily discovered -source. For the open sounds, the wing-cases are raised to their full height; for the -muffled sounds, they are lowered more or less. In the latter position, their outer -edges press to a varying extent upon the insect’s yielding sides, thus more or less -decreasing the vibratory surface and reducing the volume of sound. -</p> -<p>A gentle touch with one’s finger stifles the sound of a ringing wine-glass and changes -it into a veiled, indefinite note that seems to come from afar. The pale Cricket knows -this acoustic secret. He misleads those who are hunting for him by pressing the edges -of his vibrating flaps against his soft abdomen. Our musical instruments have their -dampers, their sourdines; that of <i lang="la">Œcanthus pellucens</i> vies with and surpasses them in the simplicity of its method and the perfection of -its results. -</p> -<p>The Field Cricket and his kinsmen also employ the sourdine by clasping their abdomen -higher or lower with the edge of their wing-cases; but none of them obtains from this -procedure such deceptive effects as those of the Italian Cricket. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb351">[<a href="#pb351">351</a>]</span></p> -<p>In addition to this illusion of distance, which, at the faintest sound of footsteps, -is constantly taking us by surprise, we have the purity of the note, with its soft -tremolo. I know no prettier or more limpid insect song, heard in the deep stillness -of an August evening. How often, <i lang="la">per amica silentia lunæ</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3771src" href="#xd31e3771">2</a> have I lain down on the ground, screened by the rosemary-bushes, to listen to the -delicious concert of the <i>harmas</i>!<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3790src" href="#xd31e3790">3</a> -</p> -<p>The nocturnal Cricket swarms in the enclosure. Every tuft of red-flowering rock-rose -has its chorister; so has every clump of lavender. The bushy arbutus-shrubs, the turpentine-trees, -all become orchestras. And, with its clear and charming voice, the whole of this little -world is sending questions and responses from shrub to shrub, or rather, indifferent -to the hymns of others, chanting its gladness for itself alone. -</p> -<p>High up, immediately above my head, the Swan stretches its great cross along <span class="pageNum" id="pb352">[<a href="#pb352">352</a>]</span>the Milky Way; below, all around me, the insects’ symphony rises and falls. The infinitesimal -telling its joys makes me forget the pageant of the stars. We know nothing of those -celestial eyes which look down upon us, placid and cold, with scintillations that -are like blinking eyelids. Science tells us of their distance, their speed, their -mass, their volume; it overwhelms us with enormous figures, stupefies us with immensities; -but it does not succeed in stirring a fibre within us. Why? Because it lacks the great -secret, that of life. What is there up there? What do those suns warm? Worlds like -ours, reason declares; planets whereon life revolves in infinite variety. It is a -superb conception of the universe, but, when all is said, only a conception, not supported -by obvious facts, those supreme proofs within the reach of all. The probable, the -extremely probable, is not the manifest, which forces itself upon us irresistibly -and leaves no room for doubt. -</p> -<p>In your company, on the contrary, O my Crickets, I feel the throbbing of life, which -is the soul of our lump of clay; and that is why, under my rosemary-hedge, I give -but an absent glance at the constellation of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb353">[<a href="#pb353">353</a>]</span>Swan and devote all my attention to your serenade! A dab of animated glair, capable -of pleasure and of pain, surpasses in interest the immensity of brute matter. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb354">[<a href="#pb354">354</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e3677" lang="en"> -<p class="footnote" lang="en"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3677src">1</a></span> </p> -<div class="q"> -<div class="nestedtext"> -<div class="nestedbody"> -<div class="lgouter footnote"> -<p class="line">“Then tripping to the woods the wanton hies </p> -<p class="line">And wishes to be seen before she flies.” </p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div><p> -</p> -<p class="footnote cont xd31e2812">—<span class="sc">Virgil</span>, <i>Pastorals</i>: book i.; Dryden’s translation. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3677src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3771"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3771src">2</a></span> </p> -<div class="q"> -<div class="nestedtext"> -<div class="nestedbody"> -<div class="lgouter footnote"> -<p class="line">“Safe under covert of the silent night </p> -<p class="line">And guided by the imperial galley’s light.” </p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div><p> -</p> -<p class="footnote cont xd31e2812">—<span class="sc">Virgil</span>, <i>Æneid</i>: book ii.; Dryden’s translation. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3771src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3790"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3790src">3</a></span> The enclosed piece of waste land, adjoining his house at Sérignan, in which the author -used to study his insects in their natural state. Cf. <i>The Life of the Fly</i>: chap. i.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3790src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch17" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e363">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XVII</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE LOCUSTS: THEIR FUNCTION; THEIR ORGAN OF SOUND</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">“Mind you are ready, children, to-morrow morning, before the sun gets too hot: we -are going Locust-hunting.” -</p> -<p>This announcement throws the household into great excitement at bed-time. What do -my little helpmates see in their dreams? Blue wings, red wings, suddenly flung out -fanwise; long, saw-toothed legs, pale-blue or pink, which kick out when we hold their -owners in our fingers; great shanks acting as springs that make the insect leap forward -like a projectile shot from some dwarf catapult hidden in the grass. -</p> -<p>What they behold in sleep’s sweet magic lantern I also happen to see. Life lulls us -with the same simple things in its first stages and its last. -</p> -<p>If there be one peaceful and safe form of hunting, one that comes within the powers -of <span class="pageNum" id="pb355">[<a href="#pb355">355</a>]</span>old age and childhood alike, it is Locust-hunting. Oh, what delicious mornings we -owe to it! What happy moments when the mulberries are black and allow my assistants -to go pilfering here and there in the bushes! What memorable excursions on the slopes -covered with sparse grass, tough and burnt yellow by the sun! I retain a vivid recollection -of all this; and my children will do the same. -</p> -<p>Little Paul has nimble legs, a ready hand and a piercing eye. He inspects the clumps -of everlastings where the Tryxalis solemnly nods his sugar-loaf head; he scrutinizes -the bushes out of which the big Grey Locust suddenly flies like a little bird surprised -by the hunter. Great disappointment on the part of the latter, who, after first rushing -off at full speed, stops and gazes in wonder at this mock Swallow flying far away. -He will have better luck another time. We shall not go home without a few of those -magnificent prizes. -</p> -<p>Younger than her brother, Marie Pauline patiently watches for the Italian Locust, -with his pink wings and carmine hind-legs; but she really prefers another jumper, -the most elegantly attired of all. Her favourite wears <span class="pageNum" id="pb356">[<a href="#pb356">356</a>]</span>a St. Andrew’s cross on the small of his back, which is marked by four white, slanting -stripes. His livery has patches of verdigris, the exact colour of the patina on old -bronze medals. With her hand raised in the air, ready to swoop down, she approaches -very softly, stooping low. Whoosh! That’s done it! Quick, a screw of paper to receive -the treasure, which, thrust head first into the opening, plunges with one bound to -the bottom of the funnel. -</p> -<p>Thus are our bags distended one by one; thus are our boxes filled. Before the heat -becomes too great to bear, we are in possession of a number of varied specimens which, -raised in captivity, will perhaps teach us something, if we know how to question them. -Thereupon we go home again. The Locust has made three people happy at a small cost. -</p> -<p>The first question that I put to my boarders is this: -</p> -<p>“What function do you perform in the fields?” -</p> -<p>You have a bad reputation, I know; the text-books describe you as noxious. Do you -deserve this reproach? I take the liberty of doubting it, except, of course, in the -case of <span class="pageNum" id="pb357">[<a href="#pb357">357</a>]</span>the terrible ravagers who form the scourge of Africa and the east. -</p> -<p>The ill repute of those voracious eaters has left its mark on you all, though I look -upon you as much more useful than injurious. Never, so far as I know, have our peasants -complained of you. What damage could they lay to your charge? -</p> -<p>You nibble the tops of the tough grasses which the Sheep refuses to touch; you prefer -the lean swards to the fat pastures; you browse on sterile land where none but you -would find the wherewithal to feed himself; you live upon what could never be used -without the aid of your healthy stomach. -</p> -<p>Besides, by the time that you frequent the fields, the only thing that might tempt -you, the green wheat, has long since yielded its grain and disappeared. If you happen -to get into the kitchen-gardens and levy toll on them to some slight extent, it is -not a rank offence. A man can console himself for a piece bitten out of a leaf or -two of salad. -</p> -<p>To measure the importance of things by the foot-rule of one’s own turnip-patch is -a horrible method, which makes us forget the essential for the sake of a trivial detail. -The short-sighted man would upset the order of <span class="pageNum" id="pb358">[<a href="#pb358">358</a>]</span>the universe rather than sacrifice a dozen plums. If he thinks of the insect at all, -it is only to speak of its extermination. -</p> -<p>Fortunately, this is not and never will be in his power. Look at the consequences, -for instance, of the disappearance of the Locust, who is accused of stealing a few -crumbs from earth’s rich table. In September and October, the Turkeys are driven into -the stubble-fields, under the charge of a child armed with two long reeds. The expanse -over which the gobbling flock slowly spreads is bare, dry and burnt by the sun. At -the most, a few ragged thistles raise their belated heads. What do the birds do in -a desert like this, simply reeking with famine? They cram themselves, in order to -do honour to the Christmas table; they wax fat; their flesh becomes firm and appetizing. -With what, pray? With Locusts, whom they snap up here and there, a delicious stuffing -for their greedy crops. This autumnal manna, which costs nothing and is richly flavoured, -contributes to the elaboration and the improvement of the succulent roast that will -be so largely eaten on the festive evening. -</p> -<p>When the Guinea-fowl, that domesticated game-bird, roams around the farm, uttering -<span class="pageNum" id="pb359">[<a href="#pb359">359</a>]</span>her rasping note, what is it that she seeks? Seeds, no doubt, but, above all things, -Locusts, who puff her out under the wings with a pad of fat and give greater flavour -to her flesh. -</p> -<p>The Hen, much to our advantage, is just as fond of them. She well knows the virtues -of that dainty dish, which acts as a tonic and increases her laying-capacity. When -left at liberty, she hardly ever fails to lead her family to the stubble-fields, so -that they may learn how to snap up the exquisite mouthful deftly. In fact, all the -denizens of the poultry-yard, when free to wander about at will, owe to the Locust -a valuable addition to their diet. -</p> -<p>It becomes a much more important matter outside our domestic fowls. If you are a sportsman, -if you are able to appreciate the value of the Red-legged Partridge, the glory of -our southern hills, open the crop of the bird which you have just brought down. You -will see that it contains a splendid certificate to the services rendered by the much-maligned -insect. You will find it, nine times out of ten, more or less crammed with Locusts. -The Partridge dotes on them, prefers them to seed as long as he is able to <span class="pageNum" id="pb360">[<a href="#pb360">360</a>]</span>catch them. This highly-flavoured, substantial, stimulating fare would almost make -him forget the existence of seeds, if it were only there all the year round. -</p> -<p>Let us now consult the illustrious black-footed tribe, so warmly celebrated by Tousserel.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3850src" href="#xd31e3850">1</a> The head of the family is the Wheatear, the <i>Cul-blanc</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3856src" href="#xd31e3856">2</a> as the Provençal calls him, who grows disgracefully fat in September and supplies -delicious material for the skewer. At the time when I used to indulge in ornithological -expeditions, I made a practice of jotting down the contents of the birds’ crops and -gizzards, so as to become acquainted with their diet. Here is the Wheatear’s bill -of fare: Locusts, first of all; next, many various kinds of Beetles, such as Weevils, -Opatra, Chrysomelæ, or Golden-apple-beetles, Cassidæ, or Tortoise-beetles, and Harpali; -in the third place, Spiders, Iuli,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3864src" href="#xd31e3864">3</a> Woodlice and small Snails; lastly and <span class="pageNum" id="pb361">[<a href="#pb361">361</a>]</span>rarely, bramble-berries and the berries of the Cornelian cherry. -</p> -<p>As you see, there is a little of all kinds of small game, just as it comes. The insect-eater -does not turn his attention to berries except in the last resort, at seasons of dearth. -Out of forty-eight cases mentioned in my notes, vegetable food appears only three -times, in trifling proportions. The predominant item, both as regards frequency and -quantity, is the Locust, the smaller specimens being chosen, in order not to tax the -bird’s swallowing-powers. -</p> -<p>Even so with the other little birds of passage which, when autumn comes, call a halt -in Provence and prepare for the great pilgrimage by accumulating on their rumps a -travelling-allowance of fat. All of them feast on the Locust, that rich fare; all, -in the waste lands and fallows, gather as best they can the hopping tit-bit, that -source of vigour for flying. Locusts are the manna of little birds on their autumnal -journey. -</p> -<p>Nor does man himself scorn them. An Arab author quoted by General Daumas<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3875src" href="#xd31e3875">4</a> in his book, <i lang="fr">Le Grand désert</i>, tells us: -<span class="pageNum" id="pb362">[<a href="#pb362">362</a>]</span></p> -<blockquote> -<p class="first">“Grasshoppers<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3886src" href="#xd31e3886">5</a> are of good nourishment for men and Camels. Their claws, wings and head are taken -away and they are eaten fresh or dried, either roast or boiled and served with flesh, -flour and herbs. -</p> -<p>“When dried in the sun, they are ground to powder and mixed with milk or kneaded with -flour; and they are then cooked with fat or with butter and salt. -</p> -<p>“Camels eat them greedily and are given them dried or roast, heaped in a hollow between -two layers of charcoal. Thus also do the Nubians eat them. -</p> -<p>“When Miriam<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3894src" href="#xd31e3894">6</a> prayed God that she might eat flesh unpolluted by blood, God sent her Grasshoppers. -</p> -<p>“When the wives of the Prophet were sent Grasshoppers as a gift, they placed some -of these in baskets and sent them to other women. -</p> -<p>“Once, when the Caliph Omar was asked if it were lawful to eat Grasshoppers, he made -answer: -</p> -<p>“ ‘Would that I had a basket of them to eat!’ -<span class="pageNum" id="pb363">[<a href="#pb363">363</a>]</span></p> -<p>“Wherefore, from this testimony, it is very sure that, by the grace of God, Grasshoppers -were given to man for his nourishment.”</p> -</blockquote><p> -</p> -<p>Without going so far as the Arab naturalist, which would presuppose a power of digestion -not bestowed on every man, I feel entitled to say that the Locust is a gift of God -to a multitude of birds, as witness the long array of gizzards which I consulted. -</p> -<p>Many others, notably the reptile, hold him in esteem. I have found him in the belly -of the <i>Rassado</i>, that terror of the small girls of Provence, I mean the Eyed Lizard, who loves rocky -shelters turned into a furnace by a torrid sun. And I have often caught the little -Grey Lizard of the walls in the act of carrying off, in his tapering snout, the <i lang="la">spolia opima</i> of some long-awaited Acridian. -</p> -<p>Even fish revel in him, when good fortune brings him to them. The Locust’s leap has -no definite goal. A projectile discharged blindly, the insect comes down wherever -the unpremeditated release of its springs shoots it. If the place where it falls happen -to be the water, a fish is there at once to gobble up the dripping victim. It is sometimes -a <span class="pageNum" id="pb364">[<a href="#pb364">364</a>]</span>fatal dainty, for anglers use the Locust when they wish to bait their hook with a -particularly attractive morsel. -</p> -<p>Without expatiating further on the devourers of this small game, I can clearly see -the great usefulness of the Acridian who by successive leaps transmits to man, that -most wasteful of eaters, the lean grass now converted into exquisite fare. Gladly -therefore would I say, with the Arab writer: -</p> -<p>“Wherefore, from this testimony, it is very sure that, by the grace of God, Grasshoppers -were given to man for his nourishment.” -</p> -<p>One thing alone makes me hesitate: the direct consumption of the Locust. As regards -indirect consumption, under the form of Partridge, young Turkey and others, none will -think of denying him his praises. Is direct consumption then so unpleasant? That was -not the opinion of Omar,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3921src" href="#xd31e3921">7</a> the mighty caliph, the destroyer of the library of Alexandria. His stomach was as -rude as his intellect; and, by his own account, he <span class="pageNum" id="pb365">[<a href="#pb365">365</a>]</span>would have relished a basket of Grasshoppers. -</p> -<p>Long before him, others were content to eat them, though in this case it was a wise -frugality. Clad in his Camel’s-hair garment, St. John the Baptist, the bringer of -good tidings and the great stirrer of the populace in the days of Herod, lived in -the desert on Grasshoppers and wild honey: -</p> -<p>“And his meat was locusts and wild honey,” says the Gospel according to St. Matthew. -</p> -<p>Wild honey I know, if only from the pots of the Chalicodoma.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3931src" href="#xd31e3931">8</a> It is a very agreeable food. There remains the Grasshopper of the desert, otherwise -the Locust. In my youth, like every small boy, I appreciated a Grasshopper’s leg, -which I used to eat raw. It is not without flavour. To-day let us rise a peg higher -and try the fare of Omar and St. John the Baptist. -</p> -<p>I capture some fat Locusts and have them cooked in a very rough and ready fashion, -fried with butter and salt, as the Arab author prescribes. We all of us, big and little, -partake of the queer dish at dinner. <span class="pageNum" id="pb366">[<a href="#pb366">366</a>]</span>We pronounce favourably upon the caliph’s delicacy. It is far superior to the Cicadæ -extolled by Aristotle. It has a certain shrimpy flavour, a taste that reminds one -of grilled Crab; and, were it not that the shell is very tough for such slight edible -contents, I would go to the length of saying that it is good, without, however, feeling -any desire for more. -</p> -<p>My curiosity as a naturalist has now twice allowed itself to be tempted by the dishes -of antiquity: Cicadæ first; Locusts next. Neither the one nor the other roused my -enthusiasm. We must leave these things to the powerful jaws of the negroes and the -huge appetite of which the famous caliph gave proof. -</p> -<p>The queasiness of our stomachs, however, in no way decreases the Locusts’ merits. -Those little browsers of the burnt grass play a great part in the workshop where our -food is prepared. They swarm in vast legions which roam over the barren wastes, pecking -here and there, turning what could not otherwise be used into a foodstuff which is -passed on to a host of consumers, including, first and foremost, the bird that often -falls to man’s share. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb367">[<a href="#pb367">367</a>]</span></p> -<p>Pricked relentlessly by the needs of the stomach, the world knows no more imperative -duty than the acquisition of food. To secure a seat in the refectory, each animal -expends its sum total of activity, industry, toil, trickery and strife; and the general -banquet, which should be a joy, is to many a torment. Man is far from escaping the -miseries of the struggle for food. On the contrary, only too often he tastes them -in all their bitterness. -</p> -<p>Ingenious as he is, will he succeed in freeing himself from them? Science says yes. -Chemistry promises, in the near future, a solution of the problem of subsistence. -The sister science, physics, is preparing the way. Already it is contemplating how -to get more and better work done by the sun, that great sluggard who thinks that he -has done his duty by us when he sweetens our grapes and ripens our corn. It will bottle -his heat, garner his rays, in order to control them and employ them where we think -fit. -</p> -<p>With these supplies of energy, the hearths will blaze, the wheels will turn, the pestles -pound, the graters grate, the rollers grind; and the work of agriculture, so wasteful -at present, thwarted as it is by the inclemency <span class="pageNum" id="pb368">[<a href="#pb368">368</a>]</span>of the seasons, will become factory-work, yielding economical and safe returns. -</p> -<p>Then chemistry will step in, with its legion of cunning reagents. It will turn everything -into nutritious matter, in a highly concentrated form, capable of being assimilated -in its entirety and leaving hardly any foul residue. A loaf of bread will be a pill; -a rumpsteak a drop of jelly. Of agricultural labour, the inferno of barbarian times, -nothing will remain but a memory, of interest only to the historians. The last Sheep -and the last Ox will figure, neatly stuffed, as curiosities in our museums, together -with the Mammoth dug up from the Siberian ice-fields. -</p> -<p>All that old lumber—herds and flocks, seeds, fruits and vegetables—is doomed to disappear -some day. Progress demands it, we are told; and the chemist’s retort, which, in its -presumptuous fashion, recognizes nothing as impossible, repeats the assertion. -</p> -<p>This golden age of foodstuffs leaves me very incredulous. When it is a question of -obtaining some new toxin, science displays alarming ingenuity. Our laboratory collections -are veritable arsenals of poisons. When the object is to invent a still in which <span class="pageNum" id="pb369">[<a href="#pb369">369</a>]</span>potatoes shall be made to yield torrents of alcohol capable of turning us into a nation -of sots, the resources of industry know no limits. But to procure by artificial means -a single mouthful of really nourishing matter is a very different business. Never -has any such product simmered in our retorts. The future, beyond a doubt, will do -no better. Organized matter, the only true food, escapes the formulæ of the laboratory. -Its chemist is life. -</p> -<p>We shall do well therefore to preserve agriculture and our herds. Let us leave our -nourishment to be prepared by the patient work of plants and animals, let us mistrust -the brutal factory and keep our confidence for more delicate methods and, in particular, -for the Locust’s stomach, which assists in the making of the Christmas Turkey. That -stomach has culinary receipts which the chemist’s retort will always envy without -succeeding in imitating them. -</p> -<p>This picker-up of nutritive trifles, destined to support a crowd of paupers, possesses -musical powers wherewith to express his joys. Consider a Locust at rest, blissfully -digesting his meal and enjoying the sunshine. With sharp strokes of the bow, <span class="pageNum" id="pb370">[<a href="#pb370">370</a>]</span>three or four times repeated and spaced with pauses, he sings his ditty. He scrapes -his sides with his great hind-legs, using now one, now the other, anon both at a time. -</p> -<p>The result is very poor, so slight indeed that I am obliged to have recourse to little -Paul’s ear in order to make sure that there is a sound at all. Such as it is, it resembles -the creaking of the point of a needle pushed across a sheet of paper. There you have -the whole song, so near akin to silence. -</p> -<p>There is nothing more to be expected from so rudimentary an instrument. We have nothing -here similar to what the Grasshopper clan have shown us: no toothed bow, no vibrating -membrane stretched into a drum. Let us, for instance, take a look at the Italian Locust -(<i lang="la">Caloptenus italicus</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), whose apparatus of sound is repeated in the other stridulating Acridians. His hinder -thighs are keel-shaped above and below. Each surface, moreover, has two powerful longitudinal -nervures. Between these main parts there is, in either case, a graduated row of smaller, -chevron-shaped nervures; and the whole thing is as prominent and as plainly marked -on this outer side as on the inner one. And what surprises me even <span class="pageNum" id="pb371">[<a href="#pb371">371</a>]</span>more than this similarity between the two surfaces is that all these nervures are -smooth. Lastly, the lower edge of the wing-cases, the edge rubbed by the thighs which -serve as a bow, also has nothing particular about it. We see, as indeed we do all -over the wing-cases, nervures that are powerful but devoid of any rasping roughness -or the least denticulation. -</p> -<p>What can this artless attempt at a musical instrument produce? Just as much as a dry -membrane will emit when you rub it. And for the sake of this trifle the insect lifts -and lowers its thighs, in sharp jerks, and is satisfied with the result. It rubs its -sides very much as we rub our hands together in sign of contentment, with no intention -of making a sound. That is its own particular way of expressing its joy in life. -</p> -<p>Examine it when the sky is partly obscured and the sun shines intermittently. There -comes a rift in the clouds. Forthwith the thighs begin to scrape, increasing their -activity as the sun grows hotter. The strains are very brief, but they are renewed -so long as the sunshine continues. The sky becomes overcast. Then and there the song -ceases, to be resumed with the next gleam of sunlight, <span class="pageNum" id="pb372">[<a href="#pb372">372</a>]</span>always in brief spasms. There is no mistaking it: here, in these fond lovers of the -light, we have a mere expression of happiness. The Locust has his moments of gaiety -when his crop is full and the sun benign. -</p> -<p>Not all the Acridians indulge in this joyous rubbing. The Tryxalis (<i lang="la">Truxalis nasuta</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), who sports a pair of immensely elongated hind-legs, maintains a gloomy silence -even under the most vigorous caresses of the sun. I have never seen him move his shanks -like a bow; he seems unable to use them—so long are they—for anything but hopping. -</p> -<p>Dumb likewise, apparently as a consequence of the excessive length of his hind-legs, -the big Grey Locust (<i lang="la">Pachytilus cinerescens</i>, <span class="sc">Fabr.</span>) has a peculiar way of diverting himself. The giant often visits me in the enclosure, -even in the depth of winter. In calm weather, when the sun is hot, I surprise him -in the rosemaries, with his wings unfurled and fluttering rapidly for a quarter of -an hour at a time, as though for flight. His twirling is so gentle, in spite of its -extreme speed, as to create hardly a perceptible rustle. -</p> -<p>Others still are much less well-endowed. <span class="pageNum" id="pb373">[<a href="#pb373">373</a>]</span>One such is the Pedestrian Locust (<i lang="la">Pezotettix pedestris</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), the companion of the Alpine Analota on the ridges of the Ventoux. This foot-passenger -strolling amid the paronychias (<i lang="la">P. serpyllifola</i>) which lie spread in silvery expanses over the Alpine region; this short-jacketed -hopper, the guest of the androsaces (<i lang="la">A. villosa</i>), whose tiny flowers, white as the neighbouring snows, smile from out of their rosy -eyes, has the same fresh colouring as the plants around him. The sunlight, less veiled -in mists in the loftier regions, has made him a costume combining beauty and simplicity: -a pale-brown satin back; a yellow abdomen; big thighs coral-red below; hind-legs a -glorious azure-blue, with an ivory anklet in front. But, being incapable of going -beyond the larval form, this dandy remains short-coated. -</p> -<p>He has for wing-cases two wrinkled slips, distant one from the other and hardly covering -the first segment of the abdomen, and for wings two stumps that are even more abbreviated. -All this hardly covers his nakedness down to the waist. Any one seeing him for the -first time takes him for a larva and is wrong. It is indeed the adult insect, <span class="pageNum" id="pb374">[<a href="#pb374">374</a>]</span>ripe for mating; and the insect will remain in this undress to the end. -</p> -<p>Is it necessary to add that, with this skimpy jacket, stridulation is impossible? -The big hind-thighs are there, it is true; but what is lacking, for them to rub upon, -is the grating surface, the edge of the wing-cases. Whereas the other Locusts are -not to be described as noisy, this one is absolutely dumb. In vain have the most delicate -ears around me listened with might and main: there has never been the least sound -during the three months’ home breeding. This silent one must have other means of expressing -his joys and summoning his partner to the wedding. What are they? I do not know. -</p> -<p>Nor do I know why the insect deprives itself of wings and remains a plodding wayfarer, -when its near kinsmen, on the same Alpine swards, are excellently equipped for flight. -It possesses the germs of wing and wing-case, gifts which the egg gives to the larva; -and it does not think of using these germs by developing them. It persists in hopping, -with no further ambition; it is satisfied to go on foot, to remain a Pedestrian Locust, -as the nomenclators call it, when it <span class="pageNum" id="pb375">[<a href="#pb375">375</a>]</span>might, one would think, acquire wings, that higher mechanism of locomotion. -</p> -<p>Rapid flitting from crest to crest, over the valleys deep in snow; easy flight from -a shorn pasture to one not yet exploited: can these be negligible advantages to the -Pedestrian Locust? Obviously not. The other Acridians and in particular his fellow-dwellers -on the mountain-tops possess wings and are all the better for them. What is his reason -for not doing as they do? It would be very profitable to extract from their sheaths -the sails which he keeps packed away in useless stumps; and he does not do it. Why? -</p> -<p>“Arrested development,” says some one. -</p> -<p>Very well. Life is arrested half-way through its work; the insect does not attain -the ultimate form of which it bears the emblem. For all its scientific turn of phrase, -the reply is not really a reply at all. The question returns under another guise: -what causes that arrested development? -</p> -<p>The larva is born with the hope of flying at maturity. As a pledge of that fair future, -it carries on its back four sheaths in which the precious germs lie slumbering. Everything -is arranged according to the rules of <span class="pageNum" id="pb376">[<a href="#pb376">376</a>]</span>normal evolution. Thereupon, suddenly, the organism does not fulfil its promises; -it is false to its engagements; it leaves the adult insect without sails, leaves it -with only useless rags. -</p> -<p>Are we to lay this nudity to the charge of the harsh conditions of Alpine life? Not -at all, for the other hoppers, living on the same grassy slopes, manage very well -to achieve the wings foretold by the larva’s rudiments. -</p> -<p>Men tell us that, from one attempt to another, from progress to progress, under the -stimulus of necessity, animals end by acquiring this or that organ. No other creative -intervention is accepted than that of need. This, for instance, is the way in which -the Locusts went to work, in particular those whom I see fluttering over the ridges -of the Ventoux. From their niggardly larval flaps they are supposed to have extracted -wings and wing-cases, by virtue of secret and mysterious labours rendered fruitful -by the centuries. -</p> -<p>Very well, O my illustrious masters! And now tell me, if you please, what reasons -persuaded the Pedestrian Locust not to go beyond his rude outline of a flying-apparatus. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb377">[<a href="#pb377">377</a>]</span>He also, surely, must have felt the prick of necessity for ages and ages; during his -laborious tumbles amid the broken stones, he must have felt the advantage that it -would be for him to be relieved of his weight by means of wing-power; and all the -endeavours of his organism, striving to achieve a better lot, have not yet succeeded -in spreading bladewise his incipient wings. -</p> -<p>If we accept your theories, under the same conditions of urgent necessity, diet, climate -and habits, some are successful and manage to fly, others fail and remain clumsy pedestrians. -Short of resting satisfied with words and passing off chalk for cheese, I abandon -the explanations offered. Sheer ignorance is far preferable, for it prejudges nothing. -</p> -<p>But let us leave this backward one who is a stage behind his kinsmen, no one knows -why. Anatomy has its throwbacks, its halts, its sudden leaps, all of which defy our -curiosity. In the presence of the unfathomable problem of origins, the best thing -is to bow in all humility and pass on. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb378">[<a href="#pb378">378</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e3850"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3850src">1</a></span> Alphonse Tousserel (1803–1885), author of a number of interesting and valuable works -on ornithology.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3850src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3856"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3856src">2</a></span> Also known as the Stone-chat, Fallow-chat, Whin-chat, Fallow-finch and White-tail, -which last corresponds with the <i>Cul-blanc</i> of the Provençal dialect. The French name for this Saxicola is the <i>Motteux</i>, or Clod-hopper.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3856src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3864"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3864src">3</a></span> Wormlike Millepedes.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3864src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3875"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3875src">4</a></span> General Eugène Daumas (1803–1871), the author of several works on Algeria.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3875src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3886"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3886src">5</a></span> More correctly the Locust, not to be confused with the true Grasshopper, who carries -a sabre.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3886src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3894"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3894src">6</a></span> The Blessed Virgin Mary.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3894src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3921"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3921src">7</a></span> Omar, the second caliph and the first to assume the title of Commander of the Faithful, -reigned from 634 to his death in 644. The Alexandrian library was burnt in 640.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3921src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e3931"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3931src">8</a></span> Cf. <i>The Mason-bees: passim.</i>—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3931src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch18" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e373">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XVIII</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE LOCUSTS: THEIR EGGS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">What can our Locusts do? Not much in the way of manufactures. Their business in the -world is that of alchemists who in their gourdlike stomach elaborate and refine material -destined for higher objects. As I sit by my fireside, in the evening hours of meditation, -scribbling these notes upon the part which Locusts play in life, I am not prepared -to say that they have not contributed from time to time to the awakening of thought, -that magic mirror of things. They are on the earth to thrive as best they can and -to multiply, the latter being the highest law of animals charged with the manufacture -of foodstuffs. -</p> -<p>From the former point of view, if we except the all-devouring tribes which at times -imperil the very existence of Africa, the Locusts hardly attract our attention. They -are poor trenchermen; and I can surfeit a whole <span class="pageNum" id="pb379">[<a href="#pb379">379</a>]</span>barrack-room in my cages with a leaf of lettuce. As for the way in which they multiply, -that is another matter and one well worth a moment’s attention. -</p> -<p>At the same time we must not look for the nuptial eccentricities of the Grasshoppers. -Despite close similarity of structure, we are here in a new world as regards habits -and character. In the peaceful Locust clan, all that has to do with pairing is correct, -free from impropriety and conducted in accordance with the customary rites of the -entomological world. Any one keeping it under observation at the time of the procreative -frenzy will realize that the Locust came later than the Grasshopper, after the primitive -Orthopteron had sown his monstrous wild oats. There is nothing striking to be said -therefore on this always delicate subject; and I am very glad of it. Let us pass on -and come to the eggs. -</p> -<p>At the end of August, a little before noon-day, let us keep a close watch on the Italian -Locust (<i lang="la">Caloptenus italicus</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), the boldest hopper of my neighbourhood. He is a sturdy fellow, very free with his -kicks; and he is clad in short wing-cases that hardly reach the tip of his abdomen. -His costume <span class="pageNum" id="pb380">[<a href="#pb380">380</a>]</span>is usually russet, with brown patches. A few more elegant ones edge the corselet with -a whitish hem which is prolonged over the head and wing-cases. The wings are colourless -except at the base, where they are pink; the hinder shins are claret-coloured. -</p> -<p>The mother selects a suitable spot for her eggs on the side where the sun is hottest -and always at the edge of the cage, whose wirework supplies her with a support in -case of need. Slowly and laboriously she drives her clumsy drill perpendicularly into -the sand, this drill being her abdomen, which disappears entirely. In the absence -of proper boring-tools, the descent underground is painful and hesitating, but is -at last accomplished thanks to perseverance, that powerful lever of the weak. -</p> -<p>The mother is now installed, half-buried in the soil. She gives slight starts, which -follow one another at regular intervals and seem to correspond with the efforts of -the oviduct as it expels the eggs. The neck gives throbs that lift and lower the head -with slight jerks. Apart from these pulsations of the head, the body, in its only -visible half, the fore-part, is absolutely stationary, so intense is the creature’s -absorption in her <span class="pageNum" id="pb381">[<a href="#pb381">381</a>]</span>laying. It is not unusual for a male, by comparison a dwarf, to come near and for -a long time to gaze curiously at the travailing mother. Sometimes also a few females -stand around, with their big faces turned towards their friend in labour. They seem -to take an interest in what is happening, perhaps saying to themselves that it will -be their turn soon. -</p> -<p>After some forty minutes of immobility, the mother suddenly releases herself and bounds -far away. She gives not a look at the eggs nor a touch of the broom to conceal the -aperture of the well. The hole closes of its own accord, as best it can, by the natural -falling-in of the sand. It is an extremely summary performance, marked by an utter -absence of maternal solicitude. The Locust mother is not a model of affection. -</p> -<p>Others do not forsake their eggs so recklessly. I can name the ordinary Locust with -the blue wings striped with black (<i lang="la">Œdipoda cœrulescens</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>); also <i lang="la">Pachytylus nigrofasciatus</i>, <span class="sc">De Geer</span>, whose <i>cognomen</i> lacks point, for it ought to suggest either the malachite-green patches of the costume -or the white cross of the corselet. -</p> -<p>Both, when laying their eggs, adopt the <span class="pageNum" id="pb382">[<a href="#pb382">382</a>]</span>same attitude as the Italian Locust. The abdomen is driven perpendicularly into the -soil; the rest of the body partly disappears under the sliding sand. We again see -a long period of immobility, exceeding half an hour, together with little jerks of -the head, a sign of the underground efforts. -</p> -<p>The two mothers at last release themselves. With their hind-legs, lifted on high, -they sweep a little sand over the orifice of the pit and press it down by stamping -rapidly. It is a pretty sight to watch the precipitous action of their slender legs, -blue or pink, giving alternate kicks to the opening which is waiting to be plugged. -In this manner, with a lively trampling, the entrance to the house is closed and hidden -away. The hole in which the eggs were laid disappears from sight, so well obliterated -that no evil-intentioned creature could hope to discover it by means of vision alone. -</p> -<p>Nor is this all. The driving-power of the two rammers is the hinder thighs, which, -in rising and falling, scrape lightly against the edge of the wing-cases. This bow-play -produces a faint stridulation, similar to that with which the insect placidly lulls -itself to sleep in the sun. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb383">[<a href="#pb383">383</a>]</span></p> -<p>The Hen salutes the egg which she has just laid with a song of gladness; she announces -her maternal joys, to the whole neighbourhood. Even so does the Locust do in many -cases. With her thin scraper, she celebrates the advent of her family. She says: -</p> -<p>“<i lang="la">Non omnis moriar</i>; I have buried underground the treasure of the future; I have entrusted to the incubation -of the great hatcher a keg of germs which will take my place.” -</p> -<p>Everything on the site of the nest is put right in one brief spell of work. The mother -then leaves the spot, refreshes herself after her exertions with a few mouthfuls of -green stuff and prepares to begin again. -</p> -<p>The largest of the Acridians in our part of the country, the Grey Locust (<i lang="la">Pachytylus cinerescens</i>, <span class="sc">Fabr.</span>), rivals the African Locusts in size, without possessing their calamitous habits. -He is peace-loving and temperate and above reproach where the fruits of the earth -are concerned. From him we obtain a little information which is easily verified by -observing the insect in captivity. -</p> -<p>The eggs are laid about the end of April, a few days after the pairing, which lasts -<span class="pageNum" id="pb384">[<a href="#pb384">384</a>]</span>some little while. The female is armed at the tip of the abdomen—as, in varying degrees, -are the other Locust mothers—with four short excavators, arranged in pairs and shaped -like a hooked finger-nail. In the upper pair, which are larger, these hooks are turned -upwards; in the lower and smaller pair, they are turned downwards. They form a sort -of claw and are hard and black at the point; also they are scooped out slightly, like -a spoon, on their concave surface. These are the pick-axes, the trepans, the boring-tools. -</p> -<p>The mother bends her long abdomen perpendicularly to the line of the body. With her -four trepans she bites into the soil, lifting the dry earth a little; then, with a -very slow movement, she pushes down her abdomen, making no apparent effort, displaying -no excitement that would reveal the difficulty of the task. -</p> -<p>The insect is motionless and contemplative. The boring-implement could not work more -quietly if it were sinking into soft mould. It might all be happening in butter; and -yet what the bore traverses is caked, unyielding earth. -</p> -<p>It would be interesting, if it were only possible, <span class="pageNum" id="pb385">[<a href="#pb385">385</a>]</span>to see the perforating-tool, the four gimlets, at work. Unfortunately, things happen -in the mysteries of the earth. No rubbish rises to the surface; nothing denotes the -underground labour. Little by little the abdomen sinks softly in, as our finger would -sink into a lump of soft clay. The four trepans must open the passage, crumbling the -earth into dust which is thrust back sideways by the abdomen and packed as with a -gardener’s dibble. -</p> -<p>The best site for laying the eggs is not always found at the first endeavour. I have -seen the mother drive her abdomen right in and make five wells one after the other -before finding a suitable place. The pits recognized as defective are abandoned as -soon as bored. They are vertical, cylindrical holes, of the diameter of a thick lead-pencil -and astonishingly neat. No wimble would produce cleaner work. Their length is that -of the insect’s abdomen, distended as far as the extension of the segments allows. -</p> -<p>At the sixth attempt, the spot is recognized as propitious. The laying thereupon takes -place, but nothing outside betrays the fact, so motionless does the mother seem, with -her abdomen immersed up to the hilt, which <span class="pageNum" id="pb386">[<a href="#pb386">386</a>]</span>causes the long wings lying on the ground to rumple and open out. The operation lasts -for a good hour. -</p> -<p>At last the abdomen rises, little by little. It is now near the surface, in a favourable -position for observation. The valves are in continual movement, whipping a mucus which -sets in milk-white foam. It is very similar to the work done by the Mantis when enveloping -her eggs in froth. -</p> -<p>The foamy matter forms a nipple at the entrance to the well, a knob which stands well -up and attracts the eye by the whiteness of its colour against the grey background -of the soil. It is soft and sticky, but hardens pretty soon. When this closing button -is finished, the mother moves away and troubles no more about her eggs, of which she -lays a fresh batch elsewhere after a few days have intervened. -</p> -<p>At other times, the terminal foamy paste does not reach the surface; it stops some -way down and, before long, is covered with the sand that slips from the margin. There -is then nothing outside to mark the place where the eggs were laid. -</p> -<p>Even when they concealed the mouth of the well under a layer of swept sand, my <span class="pageNum" id="pb387">[<a href="#pb387">387</a>]</span>various captives, large and small, were too assiduously watched by me to foil my curiosity. -I know in every case the exact spot where the barrel of eggs lies. The time has come -to inspect it. -</p> -<p>The thing is easily discovered, an inch or an inch and a half down, with the point -of a knife. Its shape varies a good deal in the different species, but the fundamental -structure remains the same. It is always a sheath made of solidified foam, a similar -foam to that of the nests of the Praying Mantis. Grains of sand stuck together give -it a rough outer covering. -</p> -<p>The mother has not actually made this coarse cover, which constitutes a defensive -wall. The mineral wrapper results from the simple infiltration of the product, at -first semifluid and viscous, that accompanies the emission of the eggs. The wall of -the pocket absorbs it and, swiftly hardening, becomes a cemented scabbard, without -the agency of any special labour on the insect’s part. -</p> -<p>Inside, there is no foreign matter, nothing but foam and eggs. The latter occupy only -the lower portion, where they are immersed in a frothy matrix and packed one on top -<span class="pageNum" id="pb388">[<a href="#pb388">388</a>]</span>of the other, slantwise. The upper portion, which is larger in some cases than in -others, consists solely of soft, yielding foam. Because of the part which it plays -when the young larvæ come into existence, I shall call it the ascending-shaft. A final -point worthy of observation is that all the sheaths are planted more or less vertically -in the soil and end at the top almost level with the ground. -</p> -<p>We will now describe specifically the layings which we find in the cages. That of -<i lang="la">Pachytylus cinerescens</i> is a cylinder six centimetres long and eight millimetres wide.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e4140src" href="#xd31e4140">1</a> The upper end, when it emerges above the ground, swells into a nipple. All the rest -is of uniform thickness. The yellow-grey eggs are fusiform. Immersed in the froth -and arranged slantwise, they occupy only about a sixth part of the total length. The -rest of the structure is a fine, white, very powdery foam, soiled on the outside by -grains of earth. The eggs are not many in number, about thirty; but the mother lays -several batches. -</p> -<p>That of <i lang="la">P. nigrofasciatus</i> is shaped like a slightly curved cylinder, rounded off at the <span class="pageNum" id="pb389">[<a href="#pb389">389</a>]</span>lower end and cut square at the upper end. Its dimensions are an inch to an inch and -a half in length by a fifth of an inch in width. The eggs, about twenty in number, -are orange-red, adorned with a pretty pattern of tiny spots. The frothy matrix in -which they are contained is small in quantity; but above them there is a long column -of very fine, transparent and porous foam. -</p> -<p>The Blue-winged Locust (<i lang="la">Œdipoda cærulescens</i>) arranges her eggs in a sort of fat inverted comma. The lower portion contains the -eggs in its gourd-shaped pocket. They also are few in number, some thirty at most, -of a fairly bright orange-red, but unspotted. This receptable is crowned with a curved, -conical cap of foam. -</p> -<p>The lover of the mountain-tops, the Pedestrian Locust, adopts the same method as the -Blue-winged Locust, the denizen of the plains. Her sheath too is shaped like a comma -with the point turned upwards. The eggs, numbering about two dozen, are dark-russet -and are strikingly ornamented with a delicate lacework of inwrought spots. You are -quite surprised when you pass the magnifying-glass over this unexpected elegance. -Beauty leaves its impress everywhere, even <span class="pageNum" id="pb390">[<a href="#pb390">390</a>]</span>in the humble covering of an unsightly Acridian incapable of flight. -</p> -<p>The Italian Locust begins by enclosing her eggs in a keg and then, when on the point -of sealing her receptacle, thinks better of it: something essential, the ascending-shaft, -is lacking. At the upper end, at the point where it seems as if the barrel ought to -finish and close, a sudden compression changes the course of the work, which is prolonged -by the regulation foamy appendage. In this way, two storeys are obtained, clearly -defined on the outside by a deep groove. The lower, which is oval in shape, contains -the packet of eggs; the upper, tapering into the tail of a comma, consists of nothing -but foam. The two communicate by an opening that remains more or less free. -</p> -<p>The Locust’s art is not confined to these specimens of architecture. She knows how -to construct other strong-boxes for her eggs; she can protect them with all kinds -of edifices, some simple, others more ingenious, but all worthy of our attention. -Those with which we are familiar are very few compared with those of which we are -ignorant. No matter: what the cages reveal to us is sufficient to enlighten us as -to the general form. It remains <span class="pageNum" id="pb391">[<a href="#pb391">391</a>]</span>for us to learn how the building—an egg-warehouse below, a foamy turret above—is constructed. -</p> -<p>Direct observation is impracticable here. If we took it into our heads to dig and -to uncover the abdomen at work, the mother, worried by our importunity, would leap -away without telling us anything. Fortunately, one Locust, the strangest of my district, -reveals the secret to us. I speak of the Tryxalis, the largest member of the family, -after the Grey Locust. -</p> -<p>Though inferior to the last-named in size, how far she exceeds her in slenderness -of figure and, above all, in originality of shape! On our sun-scorched swards, none -has a leaping-apparatus to compare with hers. What hind-legs, what extravagant thighs, -what shanks! They are longer than the creature’s whole body. -</p> -<p>The result obtained hardly corresponds with this extraordinary length of limb. The -insect shuffles awkwardly along the edges of the vines, on the sand sparsely covered -with grass; it seems embarrassed by its shanks, which are slow to work. With this -equipment, weakened by its excessive length, the leap is awkward, describing but a -short <span class="pageNum" id="pb392">[<a href="#pb392">392</a>]</span>parabola. The flight alone, once taken, is of a certain range, thanks to an excellent -pair of wings. -</p> -<p>And then what a strange head! It is an elongated cone, a sugar-loaf, whose point, -turned up in the air, has earned for the insect the quaint epithet of <i>nasuta</i>, long-nosed. At the top of this cranial promontory are two large, gleaming, oval -eyes and two antennæ, flat and pointed, like dagger-blades. These rapiers are organs -of information. The Tryxalis lowers them, with a sudden swoop, to explore with their -points the object in which she is interested, the bit which she intends to nibble. -</p> -<p>To this abnormal shape we must add another characteristic that makes this long-shanks -an exception among Acridians. The ordinary Locusts, a peaceful tribe, live among themselves -without strife, even when driven by hunger. The Tryxalis, on the other hand, is somewhat -addicted to the cannibalism of the Grasshoppers. In my cages, in the midst of plenty, -she varies her diet and passes easily from salad to game. When tired of green stuff, -she does not scruple to exercise her jaws on her weaker companions. -</p> -<p>This is the creature capable of giving us <span class="pageNum" id="pb393">[<a href="#pb393">393</a>]</span>information about methods of laying. In my cages, as the result of an aberration due -no doubt to the boredom of captivity, it has never laid its eggs in the ground. I -have always seen it operating in the open air and even perched on high.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e4181src" href="#xd31e4181">2</a> In the early days of October, the insect clings to the trelliswork of the cage and -very slowly discharges its batch of eggs, which we see gushing forth in a fine, foamy -stream, soon stiffening into a thick cylindrical cord, knotty and queerly curved. -It takes nearly an hour to complete the emission. Then the thing falls to the ground, -no matter where, unheeded by the mother, who never troubles about it again. -</p> -<p>The shapeless object, which varies greatly in different layings, is at first straw-coloured, -then darkens and turns rusty-brown on the morrow. The fore-part, which is the first -ejected, usually consists only of foam; the hinder part alone is fertile and contains -the eggs, buried in a frothy matrix. They are amber-yellow, about a score in number -and shaped like blunt spindles, eight to nine millimetres in length.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e4187src" href="#xd31e4187">3</a> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb394">[<a href="#pb394">394</a>]</span></p> -<p>The sterile end, which is at least as big as the other, tells us that the apparatus -which produces the foam is in operation before the oviduct and afterwards goes on -while the latter is working. -</p> -<p>By what mechanism does the Tryxalis froth up her viscous product into a porous column -first and a mattress for the eggs afterwards? She must certainly know the method of -the Praying Mantis, who, with the aid of spoon-shaped valves, whips and beats her -glair and converts it into an <i lang="fr">omelette soufflée</i>; but in the Acridian’s case the frothing is done within and there is nothing outside -to betray its existence. The glue is foamy from the moment of its appearing in the -open air. -</p> -<p>In the Mantis’ building, that complex work of art, it is not a case of any special -talent, which the mother can exercise at will. The wonderful egg-casket comes from -the ordinary action of the mechanism, is merely the outcome of the organization. <i lang="la">A fortiori</i>, the Tryxalis, in discharging her clumsy sausage, is purely a machine. The thing -happens of itself. -</p> -<p>The same applies to the Locusts. They have no industry of their own specially devised -<span class="pageNum" id="pb395">[<a href="#pb395">395</a>]</span>for laying eggs in strata in a keg of froth and extending this keg into an ascending-shaft. -The mother, with her abdomen plunged into the sand, expels at the same time eggs and -foamy glair. The whole becomes coordinated of its own accord simply by the mechanism -of the organs: on the outside, the frothy material, which coagulates and becomes encrusted -with a bulwark of earth; in the centre and at the bottom, the eggs arranged in regular -strata; at the upper end, a column of yielding foam. -</p> -<p>The Tryxalis and the Grey Locust are early hatchers. The latter’s family are already -hopping on the yellow patches of grass in August; before October is out, we are frequently -coming across young larvæ with pointed skulls. But in most of the other Acridians -the ovigerous sheaths last through the winter and do not open until the fine weather -returns. They are buried at no great depth in a soil which is at first loose and dusty -and which would not be likely to interfere with the emergence of the young larvæ if -it remained as it is; but the winter rains cake it together and turn it into a hard -ceiling. Suppose that the hatching takes place only a couple of inches down: how is -<span class="pageNum" id="pb396">[<a href="#pb396">396</a>]</span>this crust to be broken, how is the larva to come up from below? The mother’s unconscious -art has provided for that. -</p> -<p>The Locust at his birth finds above him, not rough sand and hardened earth, but a -perpendicular tunnel whose solid walls keep all difficulties at a distance, a road -protected by a little easily-penetrated foam, an ascending-shaft, in short, which -brings the new-born larva quite close to the surface. Here a finger’s-breadth of serious -obstacle remains to be overcome. -</p> -<p>The greater part of the emergence therefore is accomplished without effort, thanks -to the terminal appendage of the egg-barrel. If, in my desire to follow the underground -work of the exodus, I experiment in glass tubes, almost all the new-born larvæ die, -exhausted with fatigue, under an inch of earth, when I do away with the liberating -appendage to the shells. They duly come to light if I leave the nest in its integral -condition, with the ascending-shaft pointing upwards. Though a mechanical product -of the organism, created without any effort of the creature’s intelligence, the Locust’s -edifice, we must confess, is singularly well thought out. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb397">[<a href="#pb397">397</a>]</span></p> -<p>Having come quite close to the surface with the aid of his ascending-shaft, what does -the young Locust do to complete his deliverance? He has still to pass through a layer -of earth about a finger’s-breadth in thickness; and that is very hard work for budding -flesh. -</p> -<p>If we keep the egg-cases in glass tubes during the favourable period, the end of spring, -we shall receive a reply to our question, provided that we have the requisite patience. -The Blue-winged Locusts lend themselves best to my investigations. I find some of -them busied with the work of liberation at the end of June. -</p> -<p>The little Locust, on leaving his shell, is a whitish colour, clouded with light red. -His progress is made by wormlike movements; and, so that it may be impeded as little -as possible, he is hatched in the condition of a mummy, that is to say, clad, like -the young Grasshoppers, in a temporary jacket, which keeps his antennæ, palpi and -legs closely fixed to his breast and belly. The head itself is very much bent. The -large hind-thighs are arranged side by side with the folded shanks, shapeless as yet, -short and as it were crooked. On the way, the <span class="pageNum" id="pb398">[<a href="#pb398">398</a>]</span>legs are slightly released; the hind-legs are straightened out and afford a fulcrum -for the sapping-work. -</p> -<p>The boring-tool, a repetition of the Grasshoppers’, is at the neck. There is here -a tumour that swells, subsides, throbs and strikes the obstacle with pistonlike regularity. -A tiny and most tender cervical bladder engages in a struggle with quartz. At the -sight of this capsule of glair striving to overcome the hardness of the mineral, I -am seized with pity. I come to the unhappy creature’s assistance by slightly damping -the layer to be passed through. -</p> -<p>Despite my intervention, the task is so arduous that, in an hour, I see the indefatigable -one make a progress of hardly a twenty-fifth of an inch. How you must labour, you -poor little thing, how you must persevere with your throbbing head and writhing loins, -before you can clear a passage for yourself through the thin layer which my kindly -drop of water has softened for you! -</p> -<p>The ineffectual efforts of the tiny mite tell us plainly that the emergence into the -light of day is an enormous undertaking, in which, but for the aid of the exit-tunnel, -the <span class="pageNum" id="pb399">[<a href="#pb399">399</a>]</span>mother’s work, the greater number would succumb. -</p> -<p>It is true that the Grasshoppers, similarly equipped, find it even more difficult -to make their way out of the earth. Their eggs are laid naked in the ground; no outward -passage is prepared for them beforehand. We may assume, therefore, that the mortality -must be very high among these improvident ones; legions are bound to perish at the -time of the exodus. -</p> -<p>This is confirmed by the comparative scarcity of Grasshoppers and the extreme abundance -of Locusts. And yet the number of eggs laid is about the same in both cases. The Locust -does not, in fact, limit herself to a single casket containing a score of eggs: she -puts into the ground two, three and more, which gives a total population approaching -that of the Decticus and other Grasshoppers. If, to the greater delight of the consumers -of small game, she thrives so well, whereas the Grasshopper, who is quite as fertile -but less ingenious, dwindles, does she not owe it to that superb invention, her exit-turret? -</p> -<p>One last word upon the tiny insect which, for days on end, fights away with its cervical -<span class="pageNum" id="pb400">[<a href="#pb400">400</a>]</span>rammer. It is outside at last and rests for a moment, to recover from all that fatigue. -Then, suddenly, under the thrust of the throbbing blister, the temporary jacket splits. -The rags are pushed back by the hind-legs, which are the last to strip. The thing -is done: the creature is free, pale in colouring as yet, but possessing the final -larval form. -</p> -<p>Then and there, the hind-legs, hitherto stretched in a straight line, adopt the regulation -position; the legs fold under the great thighs; and the spring is ready to work. It -works. Little Locust makes his entrance into the world and hops for the first time. -I offer him a bit of lettuce the size of my finger-nail. He refuses. Before taking -nourishment, he must first mature and develop for a while in the sun. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb401">[<a href="#pb401">401</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e4140"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e4140src">1</a></span> 2.34 by .312 inches.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e4140src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e4181"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e4181src">2</a></span> The big Grey Locust is sometimes subject to the same aberration.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e4181src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e4187"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e4187src">3</a></span> .312 to .351 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e4187src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch19" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e383">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XIX</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE LOCUSTS: THE LAST MOULT</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">I have just beheld a stirring sight: the last moult of a Locust, the extraction of -the adult from his larval wrapper. It is magnificent. The object of my enthusiasm -is the Grey Locust, the giant among our Acridians, who is common on the vines at vintage-time, -in September. On account of his size—he is as long as my finger—he is a better subject -for observation than any other of his tribe. -</p> -<p>The fat, ungraceful larva, a rough draft of the perfect insect, is usually pale-green; -but some also are bluish-green, dirty-yellow, red-brown or even ashen-grey, like the -grey of the adult. The corselet is strongly keeled and notched, with a sprinkling -of fine white worm-holes. The hind-legs, powerful as those of mature age, have a great -haunch striped with red and a long shank shaped like a two-edged saw. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb402">[<a href="#pb402">402</a>]</span></p> -<p>The wing-cases, which in a few days will project well beyond the tip of the abdomen, -are in their present state two skimpy, triangular pinions, touching back to back along -their upper edges and continuing the keel of the corselet. Their free ends stand up -like a pointed gable. These two coat-tails, of which the material seems to have been -clipped short with ridiculous meanness, just cover the creature’s nakedness at the -small of the back. They shelter two lean strips, the germs of the wings, which are -even more exiguous. In brief, the sumptuous, slender sails of the near future are -at present sheer rags, of such meagre dimensions as to be grotesque. What will come -out of these miserable envelopes? A marvel of stately elegance. -</p> -<p>Let us observe the proceedings in detail. Feeling itself ripe for transformation, -the creature clutches the trelliswork of the cage with its hinder and intermediary -legs. The fore-legs are folded and crossed over the breast and are not employed in -supporting the insect, which hangs in a reversed position, back downwards. The triangular -pinions, the sheaths of the wing-cases, open their peaked roof and separate sideways; -the two <span class="pageNum" id="pb403">[<a href="#pb403">403</a>]</span>narrow strips, the germs of the wings, stand in the centre of the uncovered space -and diverge slightly. The position for the moult has now been taken with the necessary -stability. -</p> -<p>The first thing to be done is to burst the old tunic. Behind the corselet, under the -pointed roof of the prothorax, pulsations are produced by alternate inflation and -deflation. A similar operation is performed in front of the neck and probably also -under the entire covering of the shell that is to be split. The delicacy of the membranes -at the joints enables us to perceive what is going on at these bare points, but the -harness of the corselet hides it from us in the central portion. -</p> -<p>It is there that the insect’s reserves of blood flow in waves. The rising tide expresses -itself in blows of an hydraulic battering-ram. Distended by this rush of humours, -by this injection wherein the organism concentrates its energies, the skin at last -splits along a line of least resistance prepared by life’s subtle previsions. The -fissure yawns all along the corselet, opening precisely over the keel, as though the -two symmetrical halves had been soldered. Unbreakable <span class="pageNum" id="pb404">[<a href="#pb404">404</a>]</span>any elsewhere, the wrapper yields at this median point which is kept weaker than the -rest. The split is continued some little way back and runs between the fastenings -of the wings; it goes up the head as far as the base of the antennæ, where it sends -a short ramification to the right and left. -</p> -<p>Through this break the back is seen, quite soft, pale, hardly tinged with grey. Slowly -it swells into a larger and larger hunch. At last it is wholly released. The head -follows, extracted from its mask, which remains in its place, intact in the smallest -particular, but looking strange with its great glassy eyes that do not see. The sheaths -of the antennæ, with not a wrinkle, with nothing out of order and with their normal -position unchanged, hang over this dead face, which is now translucent. -</p> -<p>Therefore, in emerging from their narrow sheaths, which enclosed them with such absolute -precision, the antennary threads encountered no resistance capable of turning their -scabbards inside out, or disturbing their shape, or even wrinkling them. Without injuring -the twisted containers, the contents, equal in size and themselves twisted, have managed -to slip out as easily as a smooth, <span class="pageNum" id="pb405">[<a href="#pb405">405</a>]</span>straight object would do, if sliding in a loose sheath. The extraction-mechanism will -be still more remarkable in the case of the hind-legs. -</p> -<p>Meanwhile it is the turn of the fore-legs and then of the intermediary legs to shed -armlets and gauntlets, always without the least rent, however small, without a crease -of rumpled material, without a trace of any change in the natural position. The insect -is now fixed to the top of the cage only by the claws of the long hind-legs. It hangs -perpendicularly, head downwards, swinging like a pendulum, if I touch the wire-gauze. -Four tiny hooks are what it hangs by. If they gave way, if they became unfastened, -the insect would be lost, for it is incapable of unfurling its enormous wings anywhere -except in space. But they will hold: life, before withdrawing from them, left them -stiff and solid, so as to be able firmly to support the struggles that are to follow. -</p> -<p>The wing-cases and wings now emerge. These are four narrow strips, faintly grooved -and looking like bits of paper ribbon. At this stage, they are scarcely a quarter -of their final length. So limp are they that they bend under their own weight <span class="pageNum" id="pb406">[<a href="#pb406">406</a>]</span>and sprawl along the insect’s sides in the opposite direction to the normal. Their -free end, which should be turned backwards, now points towards the head of the Locust, -who is hanging upside down. Imagine four blades of thick grass, bent and battered -by a rainstorm, and you will have a fair picture of the pitiable bunch formed by the -future organs of flight. -</p> -<p>It must be no light task to bring things to the requisite stage of perfection. The -deeper-seated changes are already well-started, solidifying liquid mucilages, bringing -order out of chaos; but so far nothing outside betrays what is happening in that mysterious -laboratory where everything seems lifeless. -</p> -<p>Meanwhile, the hind-legs become released. The great thighs appear in view, tinted -on their inner surface with a pale pink, which will soon turn into a streak of bright -crimson. The emergence is easy, the bulky haunch clearing the way for the tapering -knuckle. -</p> -<p>It is different with the shank. This, in the adult insect, bristles throughout its -length with a double row of hard, pointed spikes. Moreover, the lower extremity ends -in four large spurs. It is a genuine saw, but <span class="pageNum" id="pb407">[<a href="#pb407">407</a>]</span>with two parallel sets of teeth and so powerful that, if we dismiss the size from -our minds, it might be compared with the rough saw wielded by a quarryman. -</p> -<p>The larva’s shin is similarly constructed, so that the object to be extracted is contained -in a sheath as awkwardly shaped as itself. Each spur is enclosed in a similar spur, -each tooth fits into the hollow of a similar tooth; and the moulding is so exact that -we should obtain no more intimate contact if, instead of the envelope waiting to be -shed, we coated the limb with a layer of varnish distributed uniformly with a fine -brush. -</p> -<p>Nevertheless the sawlike tibia slips out of its long, narrow case without catching -in it at any point whatever. If I had not seen this happen over and over again, I -could never have believed it: the discarded legging is quite intact all the way down. -Neither the terminal spurs nor the two rows of spikes have caught in the delicate -mould. The saw has respected the dainty scabbard which a puff of my breath is enough -to tear; the formidable rake has slipped through without leaving the least scratch -behind it. -</p> -<p>I was far from expecting such a result as <span class="pageNum" id="pb408">[<a href="#pb408">408</a>]</span>this. Because of the spiked armour, I imagined that the leg would strip in scales -which came loose of themselves or yielded to rubbing, like dead cuticle. How greatly -did the reality exceed my expectations! -</p> -<p>From the spurs and spikes of the infinitely thin matrix there emerge spurs and spikes -that make the leg capable of cutting soft wood. This is done without violence or the -least inconvenience; and the discarded garment remains where it is, hanging by the -claws to the top of the cage, uncreased and untorn. The magnifying-glass shows not -a trace of rough usage. As the thing was before the excoriation, so it remains afterwards. -The legging of dead skin continues, down to the pettiest details, an exact replica -of the live leg. -</p> -<p>If any one suggested that we should extract a saw from some sort of goldbeater’s-skin -sheath which had been exactly moulded on the steel and that we should perform the -operation without producing the least tear, we should burst out laughing: the thing -is so flagrantly impossible. Life makes light of these impossibilities; it has methods -of realizing the absurd, in case of need. And the Locust’s leg tells us so. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb409">[<a href="#pb409">409</a>]</span></p> -<p>If the saw of the shin were as hard as it is once it leaves its sheath, it would absolutely -refuse to come out without tearing to pieces the tight-fitting scabbard. The difficulty -therefore is evaded, for it is essential that the leggings, which form the only suspension-cords, -should remain intact in order to furnish a firm support until the deliverance is completed. -</p> -<p>The leg in process of liberation is not a limb fit for walking; it has not the rigidity -which it will presently possess. It is soft and highly flexible. In the portion which -the progress of the moult exposes to view, I see it bending and curving as I wish, -under the mere influence of its own weight, when I lift the cage. It is as supple -as elastic cord. And yet consolidation follows very rapidly, for the proper stiffness -will be acquired in a few minutes. -</p> -<p>Farther on, in the part hidden from me by the sheath, the leg is certainly softer -and in a state of exquisite plasticity—I was almost saying fluidity—which allows it -to overcome difficult passages almost as a liquid would flow. -</p> -<p>The teeth of the saw are there, but have none of their future sharpness. I am able -<span class="pageNum" id="pb410">[<a href="#pb410">410</a>]</span>to strip a leg partially with the point of a knife and to extract the spines from -their horny mould. They are germs of spikes, flexible buds which bend under the slightest -pressure and resume their upright position as soon as the pressure is removed. -</p> -<p>These spikes lie backwards when the leg is about to be drawn out; they stand up again -and solidify while it emerges. I am witnessing not the mere stripping of gaiters from -limbs completely enclosed, but rather a sort of birth and growth which disconcert -us by their rapidity. -</p> -<p>Much in the same way, but with far less delicate precision, do the claws of the Crayfish, -at moulting-time, withdraw the soft flesh of their two fingers from the old stony -sheath. -</p> -<p>The shanks are free at last. They are folded limply in the groove of the thigh, there -to mature without moving. The abdomen is next stripped. Its fine tunic wrinkles, rumples -and pushes back towards the extremity, which alone for some time longer remains clad -in the moulting skin. Except at this point, the whole of the Locust is now bare. -</p> -<p>It is hanging perpendicularly, head down, <span class="pageNum" id="pb411">[<a href="#pb411">411</a>]</span>supported by the claws of the now empty leggings. Throughout this long and finikin -work, the four talons have never yielded, thanks to the delicacy and care with which -the extraction has been conducted. -</p> -<p>The insect, fixed by the stern to its cast skin, does not move. Its abdomen is immensely -swollen, apparently distended by the reserve of organizable humours which the expansion -of the wings and wing-cases will soon set in motion. The Locust is resting; he is -recovering from his exertions. Twenty minutes are spent in waiting. -</p> -<p>Then, by an effort of its back, the hanging insect raises itself and with its front -tarsi grabs hold of the cast skin fastened above it. Never did acrobat, swinging by -his feet from the bar of a trapeze, display greater strength of loin in lifting himself. -When this feat is accomplished, what remains to be done is nothing. With the support -which he has now gripped, the Locust climbs a little higher and reaches the wire gauze -of the cage. This takes the place of the brushwood which the free insect would utilize -for the transformation. He fixes himself to it with his four front feet. Then the -tip of the abdomen succeeds in releasing itself, <span class="pageNum" id="pb412">[<a href="#pb412">412</a>]</span>whereupon, loosened with one last shake, the empty husk drops to the ground. -</p> -<p>The fact of its falling interests me, for I remember the stubborn persistency with -which the Cicada’s cast skin defies the winter winds without being detached from its -supporting twig. The Locust’s transfiguration is conducted in much the same way as -the Cicada’s. Then how is it that the Acridian gives himself such very shaky hangers? -The hooks hold so long as the work of tearing continues, though one would think that -this ought to bring down everything; they give way under a trifling shock so soon -as that work is done. We have, therefore, a very unstable condition of equilibrium -here, showing once more with what delicate precision the insect leaves its sheath. -</p> -<p>I said “tearing,” for want of a better word. But it is not quite that. The term implies -violence; and violence there cannot be any, because of the unsteady balance. Should -the Locust, upset by his exertions, come to the ground, it would be all up with him. -He would shrivel where he lies; or, at any rate, his organs of flight, being unable -to expand, would remain pitiful shreds. The Locust does not tear himself loose; he -<span class="pageNum" id="pb413">[<a href="#pb413">413</a>]</span>flows softly from his scabbard. It is as though he were forced out by a gentle spring. -</p> -<p>To return to the wings and wing-cases, which have made no apparent progress since -leaving the sheaths. They are still stumps, with fine longitudinal seams, not much -more than bits of rope. Their expansion, which will take more than three hours, is -reserved for the end, when the insect is completely stripped and in its normal position. -</p> -<p>We have seen the Locust turn head uppermost. This upright position is enough to restore -the natural arrangement of the wing-cases and wings. Being extremely flexible and -bent by their own weight, they were hanging down with their loose end pointing towards -the head of the inverted insect. Now, still by virtue of their own weight, they are -straightened and put the right way up. They are no longer curved like the petals of -a flower, they are no longer in an inverted position; but they still look miserably -insignificant. -</p> -<p>In its perfect state, the wing is fan-shaped. A radiating cluster of strong nervures -runs through it lengthwise and forms the framework of the fan, which is readily furled -or <span class="pageNum" id="pb414">[<a href="#pb414">414</a>]</span>unfurled. The intervening spaces are crossed by innumerable tiny bars which make of -the whole a network of rectangular meshes. The wing-case, which is coarser and much -less expanded, repeats this structure in squares. -</p> -<p>In neither case does any of the mesh show during the rope’s-end stage. All that we -see is a few wrinkles, a few winding furrows, which tell us that the stumps are bundles -of cunningly folded material reduced to their smallest volume. -</p> -<p>The expansion begins near the shoulder. Where at first nothing definite was to be -distinguished, we soon see a diaphanous area subdivided into meshes of exquisite precision. -Little by little, with a slowness that defies observation even through the magnifying-glass, -this area increases in extent at the expense of the shapeless terminal roll. My eyes -linger in vain on the confines of the two portions, the roll developing and the gauze -already developed: I see nothing, see no more than I should see in a sheet of water. -But wait a moment; and the tissue of squares stands out with perfect clearness. -</p> -<p>If we judged only by this first examination, we should really think that an organizable -<span class="pageNum" id="pb415">[<a href="#pb415">415</a>]</span>fluid is abruptly congealing into a network of nervures; we should imagine that we -were in the presence of a crystallization similar, in its suddenness, to that of a -saline solution on the slide of a microscope. Well, no: things cannot be actually -happening like that. Life does not perform its tasks so hastily. -</p> -<p>I detach a half-developed wing and turn the powerful eye of the microscope upon it. -This time I am satisfied. On the confines where the network seemed to be gradually -woven, that network was really in existence. I can plainly see the longitudinal nervures, -already thick and strong; and I can also see, pale, it is true, and without relief, -the cross-bars. I find them all in the terminal roll, of which I succeed in unfolding -a few strips. -</p> -<p>It is obvious. The wing is not at this moment a fabric on the loom, through which -the procreative energies are driving their shuttle; it is a fabric already completed. -All that it lacks to be perfect is expansion and stiffness, even as our linen needs -only starching and ironing. -</p> -<p>The flattening out is finished in three hours or more. The wings and wing-cases stand -up on the Locust’s back like a huge set of <span class="pageNum" id="pb416">[<a href="#pb416">416</a>]</span>sails, sometimes colourless, sometimes pale-green, as are the Cicada’s wings at the -beginning. We are amazed at their size when we think of the paltry bundles that represented -them at first. How did so much stuff manage to find room there! -</p> -<p>The fairy-tales tell us of a grain of hemp-seed that contained the underlinen of a -princess. Here is a grain that is even more astonishing. The one in the story took -years and years to sprout and multiply and at last to yield the quantity of hemp required -for the trousseau; the Locust’s supplies a sumptuous set of sails in a short space -of time. -</p> -<p>Slowly the proud crest, standing erect in four straight blades, acquires consistency -and colour. The latter turns the requisite shade on the following day. For the first -time the wings fold like a fan and lie in their places; the wing-cases lower their -outer edge and form a gutter which falls over the sides. The transformation is finished. -All that remains for the big Locust to do is to harden his tissues still further and -to darken the grey of his costume while revelling in the sun. Let us leave him to -enjoy himself and retrace our steps a little. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb417">[<a href="#pb417">417</a>]</span></p> -<p>The four stumps, which issued from their sheaths shortly after the corselet split -its keel down the middle, contain, as we have seen, the wings and wing-cases, with -their network of nervures. This network, if not perfect, has at least the general -plan of its numberless details mapped out. To unfurl these poor bundles and convert -them into generous sails, it is enough that the organism, acting in this case like -a forcing-pump, should shoot a stream of humours, which have been kept in reserve -for this moment, the hardest of all, into the little channels already prepared for -their reception. With the channel marked out in advance, a slight injection is sufficient -to explain the rapid spread. -</p> -<p>But what were the four strips of gauze while still contained in their sheaths? Are -the wings spatules and the three-cornered pinions of the larva moulds whose creases, -corners and sinuosities shape their contents in their own image and weave the tissues -of the future wing and wing-case? If we had to do with a real instance of moulding, -our brains could call a halt. We should say to ourselves that it was quite simple -for the thing moulded to correspond with the shape <span class="pageNum" id="pb418">[<a href="#pb418">418</a>]</span>of the mould. But our halt would be short-lived, for the mould in its turn would want -explaining: we should have to seek for a solution of its infinite intricacies. Let -us not go so far back; we should be utterly in the dark. Let us rather keep to facts -that can be observed. -</p> -<p>I examine through the magnifying-glass a pinion of a larva ripe for transformation. -I see a bundle of fairly thick nervures radiating fanwise. Other nervures, paler and -finer, are set in the intermediate spaces. Lastly, the fabric is completed by a number -of very short transversal lines, more delicate still and chevron-shaped. -</p> -<p>This, no doubt, gives a rough outline of the future wing-case; but how different from -the mature structure! The arrangement of the radiating nervures, the skeleton of the -edifice, is not at all the same; the network formed by the transversal veins in no -way suggests the complicated pattern which we shall see later. The rudimentary is -about to be succeeded by the infinitely complex, the crude by the exquisitely perfect. -The same remark applies to the wing-spatule and its outcome, the final wing. -</p> -<p>It is quite evident, when we have the preparatory <span class="pageNum" id="pb419">[<a href="#pb419">419</a>]</span>and the ultimate stage before our eyes at the same time: the larva’s pinion is not -merely a mould which elaborates the material in its own image and shapes the wing-case -upon the model of its hollow. No, the membrane which we are expecting is not yet inside -in the form of a bundle which, when unfurled, will astonish us with the size and the -extreme complexity of its texture. Or, to be accurate, it is there, but in a potential -state. Before becoming a real thing, it is a virtual thing, which is nothing as yet, -but which is capable of becoming something. It is there just as much as the oak is -inside its acorn. -</p> -<p>A fine, transparent rim binds the free edge both of the embryo wing and the embryo -wing-case. Under a powerful lens we can see a few uncertain outlines of the future -lacework. This might well be the factory in which life intends to set its materials -going. There is nothing else visible, nothing to suggest the prodigious network whose -every mesh will shortly have its form and place determined for it with geometrical -precision. -</p> -<p>There must therefore be something better and greater than a mould to make the organizable -<span class="pageNum" id="pb420">[<a href="#pb420">420</a>]</span>matter shape itself into a sheet of gauze and describe the inextricable labyrinth -of the nervation. There is a primary plan, an ideal pattern which assigns to each -atom its precise place. Before the matter begins to move, the configuration is already -virtually traced, the courses of the plastic currents are already marked out. The -stones of our buildings are arranged in accordance with the architect’s considered -plan; they form an ideal assemblage before existing as a real assemblage. Similarly, -a Locust’s wing, that sumptuous piece of lace emerging from a miserable sheath, speaks -to us of another Architect, the Author of the plans which life must follow in its -labours. -</p> -<p>The genesis of living creatures offers to our contemplation, in an infinity of ways, -marvels far greater than those of the Acridian; but generally they pass unperceived, -overshadowed as they are by the veil of time. The lapse of years, with its slow mysteries, -robs us of the most astonishing spectacles, unless our minds be endowed with a stubborn -patience. Here, by exception, things take place with a swiftness that arrests even -a wavering attention. -</p> -<p>He who would, without wearisome delays, <span class="pageNum" id="pb421">[<a href="#pb421">421</a>]</span>catch a glimpse of the inconceivable dexterity with which life does its work has but -to go to the great Locust of the vines. The insect will show him that which, with -their extreme slowness, the sprouting seed, the budding leaf and the blossoming flower -hide from our curiosity. We cannot see a blade of grass grow; but we can easily witness -the growth of a Locust’s wings and wing-cases. -</p> -<p>We stand astounded at this sublime phantasmagoria of a grain of hemp-seed which in -a few hours becomes a superb piece of linen. What a proud artist is life, driving -its shuttle to weave the wings of a Locust, one of those insignificant insects of -which Pliny, long ago said: -</p> -<blockquote lang="la"> -<p class="first">“<i>In his tam parvis, fere nullis, quæ vis, quæ sapientia, quam inextricabilis perfectis!</i>”</p> -</blockquote><p> -</p> -<p>How well the old naturalist was inspired on this occasion! Let us repeat after him: -</p> -<p>“What power, what wisdom, what indescribable perfection in the tiny corner of life -which the Locust of the vines has shown us!” -</p> -<p>I have heard that a learned enquirer, to whom life was but a conflict of physical -and <span class="pageNum" id="pb422">[<a href="#pb422">422</a>]</span>chemical forces, did not despair of one day obtaining artificial organizable matter: -protoplasm, as the official jargon has it. Were it in my power, I should hasten to -satisfy this ambitious person. -</p> -<p>Very well, be it so: you have thoroughly prepared your protoplasm. By dint of long -hours of meditation, deep study, scrupulous care and inexhaustible patience, your -wishes have been fulfilled; you have extracted from your apparatus an albuminous glair, -which goes bad easily and stinks like the very devil in a few days’ time: in short, -filth. What do you propose to do with your product? -</p> -<p>Will you organize it? Will you give it the structure of a living edifice? Will you -take a hypodermic syringe and inject it between two impalpable films to obtain were -it only the wing of a Gnat? -</p> -<p>For that is more or less what the Locust does. He injects his protoplasm between the -two scales of the pinion; and the material becomes a wing-case, because it finds as -a guide the ideal archetype of which I spoke just now. It is controlled in its intricate -windings by a plan which existed before the injection, before the material itself. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb423">[<a href="#pb423">423</a>]</span></p> -<p>Have you this archetype, this coordinator of forms, this primordial regulator, at -the end of your syringe? No? Then throw away your product! No life will ever spring -from that chemical ordure. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb424">[<a href="#pb424">424</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch20" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e394">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XX</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE FOAMY CICADELLA</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">In April, when the Swallow and the Cuckoo visit us, let us consider the fields for -a while, keeping our eyes on the ground, as befits the eager observer of insect-life. -We shall not fail to see, here and there, on the grass, little masses of white foam. -It might easily be taken for a spray of frothy spittle from the lips of a passer-by; -but there is so much of it that we soon abandon this first idea. Never would human -saliva suffice for so lavish an expenditure of foam, even if some one with nothing -better to do were to devote all his disgusting and misdirected zeal to the effort. -</p> -<p>While recognizing that man is blameless in the matter, the northern peasant has not -relinquished the name suggested by the appearance: he calls those strange flakes “Cuckoo-spit,” -after the bird whose note is then proclaiming the awakening of spring. <span class="pageNum" id="pb425">[<a href="#pb425">425</a>]</span>The vagrant creature, unequal to the toils and delights of housekeeping, ejects it -at random, so they say, as it pays its flying visits to the homes of others, in search -of a resting-place for its egg. -</p> -<p>The interpretation does credit to the Cuckoo’s salivary powers, but not to the interpreter’s -intelligence. The other popular denomination is worse still: “Frog-spit!” My dear -good people, what on earth has the Frog or his slaver to do with it?<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e4389src" href="#xd31e4389">1</a> -</p> -<p>The shrewder Provençal peasant also knows that vernal foam; but he is too cautious -to give it any wild names. My rustic neighbours, when I ask them about Cuckoo-spit -and Frog-spit, begin to smile and see nothing in those words but a poor joke. To my -questions on the nature of the thing they reply: -</p> -<p>“I don’t know.” -</p> -<p>Exactly! That’s the sort of answer I like, an answer not complicated with grotesque -explanations. -</p> -<p>Would you know the real perpetrator of this spittle? Rummage about the frothy <span class="pageNum" id="pb426">[<a href="#pb426">426</a>]</span>mass with a straw. You will extract a little yellow, pot-bellied, dumpy creature, -shaped like a Cicada without wings. That’s the foam-producer. -</p> -<p>When laid naked on another leaf, she brandishes the pointed tip of her little round -paunch. This at once betrays the curious machine which we shall see at work presently. -When older and still operating under the cover of its foam, the little thing becomes -a nymph, turns green in colour and gives itself stumps of wings fixed scarfwise on -its sides. From underneath its blunted head there projects, when it is working, a -little gimlet, a beak similar to that of the Cicadæ. -</p> -<p>In its adult form the insect is, in fact, a sort of very small-sized Cicada, for which -reason the entomologist capable of shaking off the trammels of nonsensical nomenclature -calls it simply the Foamy Cicadella. For this euphonic name, the diminutive of Cicada, -the others have substituted that horrible word Aphrophora. Orthodox science says, -<i lang="la">Aphrophora spumaria</i>, meaning Foamy Foambearer. The ear is none the better for this improvement. Let us -content ourselves with Cicadella, which respects the tympanum and does not reduplicate -the foam. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb427">[<a href="#pb427">427</a>]</span></p> -<p>I have consulted my few books as to the habits of the Cicadella. They tell me that -she punctures plants and makes the sap exude in foamy flakes. Under this cover, the -insect lives sheltered from the heat. A work recently compiled has one curious piece -of information: it tells me that I must get up early in the morning, inspect my crops, -pick any twig with foam on it and at once plunge it into a cauldron of boiling water. -</p> -<p>Oh, my poor Cicadella, this is a bad look-out! The author does not do things by halves. -I see him rising before the dawn, lighting a stove on wheels and pushing his infernal -contrivance through the midst of his lucern, his clover and his peas, to boil you -on the spot. He will have his work cut out for him. I remember a certain patch of -sainfoin of which almost every stalk had its foam-flakes. Had the stewing-process -been necessary, one might just as well have reaped the field and turned the whole -crop into herb-tea. -</p> -<p>Why these violent measures? Are you so very dangerous to the harvest, my pretty little -Cicada? They accuse you of draining the plant which you attack. Upon my word, they -are right: you drain it almost as dry as <span class="pageNum" id="pb428">[<a href="#pb428">428</a>]</span>the Flea does the Dog. But to touch another’s grass—you know it: doesn’t the fable -say so?—is a heinous crime, an offence which can be punished by nothing less drastic -than boiling water. -</p> -<p>Let us waste no more time on these agricultural entomologists with their murderous -designs. To hear them talk, one would think that the insect has no right to live. -Incapable of behaving like a ferocious landowner who becomes filled with thoughts -of massacre at the sight of a maggoty plum, I, more kindly, abandon my few rows of -peas and beans to the Cicadella: she will leave me my share, I am convinced. -</p> -<p>Besides, the insignificant ones of the earth are not the least rich in talent, in -an originality of invention which will teach us much concerning the infinite variety -of instinct. The Cicadella, in particular, possesses her recipes for aerated waters. -Let us ask her by what process she succeeds in giving such a fine head of froth to -her product, for the books that talk about boiling cauldrons and Cuckoo-spit are silent -on this subject, the only one worthy of narration. -</p> -<p>The foamy mass has no very definite shape and is hardly larger than a hazel-nut. It -is <span class="pageNum" id="pb429">[<a href="#pb429">429</a>]</span>remarkably persistent even when the insect is not working at it any longer. Deprived -of its manufacturer, who would not fail to keep it going, and placed on a watch-glass, -it lasts for more than twenty-four hours without evaporating or losing its bubbles. -This persistency is striking, compared with the rapidity with which soapsuds, for -instance, disappear. -</p> -<p>Prolonged duration of the foam is necessary to the Cicadella, who would exhaust herself -in the constant renewal of her products if her work were ordinary froth. Once the -effervescent covering is obtained, it is essential that the insect should rest for -a time, with no other task than to drink its fill and grow. And so the moisture converted -into froth possesses a certain stickiness, conducive to longevity. It is slightly -oily and trickles under one’s finger like a weak solution of gum. -</p> -<p>The bubbles are small and even, being all of the same dimensions. You can see that -they have been scrupulously gauged, one by one; you suspect the presence of a graduated -tube. Like our chemists and druggists, the insect must have its drop-measures. -</p> -<p>A single Cicadella is usually crouching invisible <span class="pageNum" id="pb430">[<a href="#pb430">430</a>]</span>in the depths of the foam; sometimes there are two or three or more. In such cases, -it is a fortuitous association, the fabrics of the several workers being so close -together that they merge into one common edifice. -</p> -<p>Let us see the work begin and, with the aid of a magnifying-glass, follow the creature’s -proceedings. With her sucker inserted up to the hilt and her six short legs firmly -fixed, the Cicadella remains motionless, flat on her stomach on the long-suffering -leaf. You expect to see froth issuing from the edge of the well, effervescing under -the action of the insect’s implement, whose lancets, ascending and descending in turns -and rubbing against each other like those of the Cicada, ought to make the sap foam -as it is forced out. The froth, so it would seem, must come ready-made from the puncture. -That is what the current descriptions of the Cicadella tell us; that was how I myself -pictured it on the authority of the writers. All this is a huge mistake: the real -thing is much more ingenious. It is a very clear liquid that comes up from the well, -with no more trace of foam than in a dew-drop. Even so the Cicada, who possesses <span class="pageNum" id="pb431">[<a href="#pb431">431</a>]</span>similar tools, makes the spot at which she slakes her thirst give forth a limpid fluid, -with not a vestige of froth to it. Therefore, notwithstanding its dexterity in sucking -up liquids, the Cicadella’s mouth-apparatus has nothing to do with the manufacture -of the foamy mattress. It supplies the raw material; another implement works it up. -What implement? Have patience and we shall see. -</p> -<p>The clear liquid rises imperceptibly and glides under the insect, which at last is -half inundated. The work begins again without delay. To make white of egg into a froth -we have two methods: we can whip it, thus dividing the sticky fluid into thin flakes -and causing it to take in air in a network of cells; or we can blow into it and so -inject air-bubbles right into the mass. Of these two methods, the Cicadella employs -the second, which is less violent and more elegant. She blows her froth. -</p> -<p>But how is the blowing done? The insect seems incapable of it, being devoid of any -air-mechanism similar to that of the lungs. To breathe with tracheæ and to blow like -a bellows are incompatible actions. -</p> -<p>Agreed; but be sure that, if the insect <span class="pageNum" id="pb432">[<a href="#pb432">432</a>]</span>needs a blast of air for its manufactures, the blowing-machine will be there, most -ingeniously contrived. This machine the Cicadella possesses at the tip of her abdomen, -at the end of the intestine. Here, split lengthwise in the shape of a Y, a little -pocket opens and shuts in turns, a pocket whose two lips close hermetically when joined. -</p> -<p>Having said this, let us watch the performance. The insect lifts the tip of its abdomen -out of the bath in which it is swimming. The pocket opens, sucks in the air of the -atmosphere till it is full, then closes and dives down, the richer by its prize. Inside -the liquid, the apparatus contracts. The captive air escapes as from a nozzle and -produces a first bubble of froth. Forthwith the air-pocket returns to the upper air, -opens, takes in a fresh load and goes down again closed, to immerse itself once more -and blow in its gas. A new bubble is produced. -</p> -<p>And so it goes on with chronometrical regularity, from second to second, the blowing-machine -swinging upwards to open its valve and fill itself with air, downwards to dive into -the liquid and send out its gaseous contents. Such is the air-measurer, the drop-glass -<span class="pageNum" id="pb433">[<a href="#pb433">433</a>]</span>which accounts for the evenness of the frothy bubbles. -</p> -<p>Ulysses, the favourite of the gods, received from the storm-dispenser, Æolus, bags -in which the winds were confined. The carelessness of his crew, who untied the bags -to find out what they contained, let loose a tempest which destroyed the fleet. I -have seen those mythological wind-filled bags; I saw them years ago, when I was a -child. -</p> -<p>A peripatetic tinker, a son of Calabria, had set up between two stones the crucible -in which a tin soup-tureen and plates were to be remelted. Æolus did the blowing, -Æolus in the person of a little dark-skinned boy who, squatting on his heels, forced -air towards the forge by alternately squeezing two goatskin bags, one on the right -and one on the left. Thus must the prehistoric bronze-smelters have performed their -task, they whose workshops and whose remains of copper-slag I find on the hills near -my home: the blast of their furnaces was produced by these inflated skins. -</p> -<p>The machine employed by my Æolus is pathetically simple. The hide of a goat, with -the hair left on, is practically all that is necessary. It is a bag fastened at the -<span class="pageNum" id="pb434">[<a href="#pb434">434</a>]</span>bottom over a nozzle, open at the top and supplied, by way of lips, with two little -boards which, when brought together, close up the whole apparatus. These two stiff -lips are each furnished with a leather handle, one for the thumb, the other for the -four remaining fingers. The hand opens; the lips of the bag part and it fills with -air. The hand closes and brings the boards together; the air imprisoned in the compressed -bag escapes by the nozzle. The alternate working of the two bags gives a continuous -blast. -</p> -<p>Apart from continuity, which is not a favourable condition when the gas has to be -discharged in small bubbles, the Cicadella’s bellows works like the Calabrian tinker’s. -It is a flexible pocket with stiff lips, which alternately part and unite, opening -to let the air enter and closing to keep it imprisoned. The contraction of the sides -takes the place of the shrinking of the bag and puffs out the gaseous contents when -the pocket is immersed. -</p> -<p>He certainly had a lucky inspiration who first thought of confining the wind in a -bag, as mythology tells us that Æolus did. The goatskin turned into a bellows gave -us our metals, the essential matter whereof our <span class="pageNum" id="pb435">[<a href="#pb435">435</a>]</span>tools are made. Well, in this art of expelling air, an enormous source of progress, -the Cicadella was the pioneer. She was blowing her froth before Tubalcain thought -of urging the fire of his forge with a leather pouch. She was the first to invent -bellows. -</p> -<p>When, bubble by bubble, the foamy wrapper covers the insect to a height which the -uplifted tip of her belly is unable to reach, it is no longer possible to take in -air and the effervescence stops. Nevertheless, the gimlet that extracts the sap goes -on working, for nourishment must be obtained. As a rule then, in the sloping part, -the superfluous liquid, that which is not converted into foam, collects and forms -a drop of perfectly clear liquid. -</p> -<p>What does this limpid fluid lack in order to turn white and effervesce? Nothing but -air blown into it, one would think. I am able to substitute my own devices for the -Cicadella’s syringe. I place between my lips a very slender glass tube and with delicate -puffs send my breath into the drop of moisture. To my great surprise, it does not -froth up. The result is just the same as that which I should have with plain water -from the tap. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb436">[<a href="#pb436">436</a>]</span></p> -<p>Instead of a plentiful, lasting, slow-subsiding foam, like that with which the insect -covers itself, all that I obtain is a miserable ring of bubbles, which burst as soon -as they appear. And I am equally unsuccessful with the liquid which the Cicadella -collects under her abdomen at the start, before working her bellows. What is wrong -in each case? The foamy product and its generating liquid shall tell us. -</p> -<p>The first is oily to the touch, gummy and as fluid as, for instance, a weak solution -of albumen would be; the second flows as readily as plain water. The Cicadella therefore -does not draw from her well a liquid liable to effervesce merely by the action of -the blow-pocket; she adds something to what oozes from the puncture, adds a viscous -element which gives cohesion and makes frothing possible, even as a boy adds soap -to the water which he blows into iridescent bubbles through a straw. -</p> -<p>Where then does the insect keep its soap-works, its manufactory of the effervescent -element? Evidently in the blow-pocket itself. It is here that the intestine ends and -here that albuminous products, furnished either by the digestive canal or by special -glands, <span class="pageNum" id="pb437">[<a href="#pb437">437</a>]</span>can be expelled in infinitesimal doses. Each whiff sent out is thus accompanied by -a trifle of adhesive matter, which dissolves in the water, making it sticky and enabling -it to retain the captive air in permanent bubbles. The Cicadella covers herself with -an icing of which her intestine is to some extent the manufacturer. -</p> -<p>This method brings us back to the industry of the lily-dweller, the grub which makes -itself a loathsome armour out of its excretions;<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e4469src" href="#xd31e4469">2</a> but what a distance between the heap of ordure which it wears on its back and the -Cicadella’s aerated mattress! -</p> -<p>Another fact, more difficult to explain, attracts our attention. A multitude of low-growing, -herbaceous plants, whose sap starts flowing in April, suit the frothy insect, without -distinction of species, genus or family. I could almost make a list of the non-ligneous -vegetation of my neighbourhood by cataloguing the plants on which the little creature’s -foam is to be found in greater or lesser abundance. A few experiments will tell us -how indifferent the Cicadella is to both <span class="pageNum" id="pb438">[<a href="#pb438">438</a>]</span>the nature and the properties of the plant which she adopts as her home. -</p> -<p>I pick the insect out of its froth with the tip of a hair-pencil and place it on some -other plant, of an opposite flavour, letting the strong come after the mild, the spicy -after the insipid, the bitter after the sweet. The new encampment is accepted without -hesitation and soon covered with foam. For instance, a Cicadella taken from the bean, -which has a neutral flavour, thrives excellently on the spurges, full of pungent milky -sap, and particularly on <i lang="la">Euphorbia serrata</i>, the narrow notch-leaved spurge, which is one of her favourite dwelling-places. And -she is equally satisfied when moved from the highly-spiced spurge to the comparatively -flavourless bean. -</p> -<p>This indifference is surprising when we reflect how scrupulously faithful other insects -are to their plants. There are undoubtedly stomachs expressly made to drink corrosive -and assimilate toxic matters. The caterpillar of <i lang="la">Acherontia atropos</i>, the Death’s-head Hawk-moth, eats its fill of potato-leaves, which are seasoned with -solanin; the caterpillar of the Spurge-moth browses in these parts on the upright -red spurge (<i lang="la">Euphorbia <span class="pageNum" id="pb439">[<a href="#pb439">439</a>]</span>characias</i>), whose milk produces much the same effect as red-hot iron on the tongue; but neither -one nor the other would pass from these narcotics or these caustics to utterly insipid -fare. -</p> -<p>How does the Cicadella manage to feed on anything and everything, for she evidently -obtains nourishment while putting a head on her liquid? I see her thrive, either of -her own accord or by my devices, on the common buttercup (<i lang="la">Ranunculus acris</i>), which has a flavour unequalled save by Cayenne pepper; on the Italian arum (<i lang="la">Arum italicum</i>), the veriest particle of whose leaves is enough to burn the lips; on the traveller’s -joy, or virgin’s bower (<i lang="la">Clematis vitalba</i>), the famous beggars’ herb, which reddens the skin and produces the sores in request -among our sham cripples. After these highly-seasoned condiments, she will promptly -accept the mild sainfoin, the scented savory, the bitter dandelion, the sweet field -eringo, in short, anything that I put before her, whether full-flavoured or tasteless. -</p> -<p>As a matter of fact, this strange catholicity of diet might well be only apparent. -When the Cicadella punctures this or that herb, of whatever species, all that she -does <span class="pageNum" id="pb440">[<a href="#pb440">440</a>]</span>is to extract an almost neutral liquid, just as the roots draw it from the soil; she -does not admit to her fountain the fluids worked up into essential principles. The -liquid that trickles forth under the insect’s gimlet and forms a bead at the bottom -of the foamy mass is perfectly clear. -</p> -<p>I have gathered this drop on the spurge, the arum, the clematis and the buttercup. -I expected to find a fire-water, pungent as the sap of those different plants. Well, -it is nothing of the kind; it lacks all savour; it is water or little more. And this -insipid stuff has issued from a reservoir of vitriol. -</p> -<p>If I prick the spurge with a fine needle, that which rises from the puncture is a -white, milky drop, tasting horribly bitter. When the Cicadella pushes in her drill, -a clear, flavourless fluid oozes out. The two operations seem to be directed towards -different sources. -</p> -<p>How does she manage to draw a liquid that is clear and harmless from the same barrel -whence my needle brings up something milky and burning? Can the Cicadella, with her -instrument, that incomparable alembic, divide the fierce fluid into two, admitting -the neutral and rejecting the peppery? <span class="pageNum" id="pb441">[<a href="#pb441">441</a>]</span>Can she be drawing on certain vessels whose sap, not yet elaborated, has not acquired -its final virulence? The delicate vegetable anatomy is helpless in the presence of -the tiny creature’s pump. I give up the problem. -</p> -<p>When the Cicadella is exploring the spurge, as frequently happens, she has a serious -reason for not admitting to her fountain all that would be yielded by simple bleeding, -such as my needle would produce. The milky juice of the plant would be fatal to her. -</p> -<p>I gather a drop or two of the liquid that trickles from a cut stalk and instal a Cicadella -in it. The insect is not comfortable: I can see this by its efforts to escape. My -hair-pencil pushes the fugitive back into the pool of milk, rich in dissolved rubber. -Soon this rubber settles into clots similar to crumbs of cheese; the insect’s legs -become clad in gaiters that seem made of casein; a coating of gum obstructs the breathing-valves; -possibly also the extremely delicate skin is hurt by the blistering qualities of the -milky sap. If kept for some time in that environment, the Cicadella dies. -</p> -<p>Even so would she die if her gimlet, working simply as a needle, brought the milk -of <span class="pageNum" id="pb442">[<a href="#pb442">442</a>]</span>the spurge to the surface. A sifting takes place then, which allows almost pure water -to issue from the source that gives the wherewithal for making the froth. A subtle -exhaustion-process, whose mechanism is hidden from our curiosity, a piston-play of -unrivalled delicacy, effects this marvellous work of purification. -</p> -<p>Water is always water, whether it come from the stagnant pool or the clear stream, -from a poisonous liquid or a healing infusion; and it possesses the same properties, -when it is rid of its impurities by distillation. In like manner, the sap, whether -furnished by the spurge or the bean, the clematis or the sainfoin, the buttercup or -the borage, is of the same watery nature when the Cicadella’s syphon, by a reducing-process -which would be the envy of our stills, has deprived it of its peculiar properties, -which vary so greatly in different plants. -</p> -<p>This would explain how the insect makes its froth rise on the first plant that it -comes across. Everything suits it, because its apparatus reduces any sap to the condition -of plain water. The inimitable well-sinker is able to produce the limpid from the -cloudy and the harmless from the toxic. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb443">[<a href="#pb443">443</a>]</span></p> -<p>It may possibly happen that the insect’s well supplies water that is not quite pure. -If left to evaporate in a watch-glass, the clear drop that trickles from the mass -of foam yields a thin white residue, which dissolves by effervescence in nitric acid. -This residue might well be carbonate of potash. I also suspect the presence of traces -of albumen. -</p> -<p>Obviously, the Cicadella finds something to feed on at the bottom of the puncture. -Now what does she consume? To all appearances, something with an albuminous basis, -for the pigmy herself is, for the most part, but a grain of similar matter. This element -is plentiful in all plants; and it is probable that the insect uses it lavishly to -make up for the expenditure of gum needed for the formation of froth. Some albuminous -product, perfected in the digestive canal and discharged by the intestine as and when -the blow-pocket expels its bubble of air, might well give the liquid the power of -swelling into a foam that lasts for a long time. -</p> -<p>If we ask ourselves what advantage the Cicadella derives from her mass of froth, a -very excellent answer is at once suggested: <span class="pageNum" id="pb444">[<a href="#pb444">444</a>]</span>the insect keeps itself cool under that shelter, hides itself from the eyes of its -persecutors and is protected against the rays of the sun and the attacks of parasites. -</p> -<p>The Lily-beetle makes a similar use of the mantle of her own dirt; but she, most unhappily -for herself, flings off her nasty cloak and descends naked from the plant to the ground, -where she has to bury herself to slaver her cocoon. At this critical moment, the Flies -lie in wait for her and entrust her with their eggs, the germs of parasites which -will eat into her body. -</p> -<p>The Cicadella is better-advised and altogether escapes the dangers attendant on a -removal. Subject to certain summary changes which never interrupt her activity, she -assumes the adult form in the very heart of her bastion, under the shelter of a viscous -rampart capable of repelling any assailant. Here she enjoys perfect security when -the difficult hour has come for tearing off her old skin and putting on another, brand-new -and more decorative; here she finds profound peace for her excoriation and for the -display of the attire of a riper age. -</p> -<p>The insect does not leave its cool covering until it is grown up, when it appears -in <span class="pageNum" id="pb445">[<a href="#pb445">445</a>]</span>the form of a pretty little, brown-striped Cicadella. It is then able to take enormous -and sudden leaps, which carry it far from the aggressor; and it leads an easy life, -untroubled by the foe. -</p> -<p>Looked upon as a system of defence, the frothy stronghold is indeed a magnificent -invention, much superior to the squalid work of the invader of the lily. And, strange -to say, the system has no imitators among the genera most nearly allied to the froth-blower. -</p> -<p>In her larval form, the Asparagus-beetle is victimized by the Fly because she does -not follow the example of her cousin, the Lily-beetle, and clothe herself in her own -droppings. Even so, on the grass, on the trees displaying their tender leaves, other -Cicadellæ abound, no less exposed to danger from the Warbler seeking a succulent morsel -for his little ones; and, as they draw out the sap through the punctures made by their -suckers, not one of them thinks of making it effervesce. Yet they too possess the -elevator-pump, which they all work in the same manner; only they do not know how to -turn the end of their intestine into a bellows. Why not? Because instincts are not -to be <span class="pageNum" id="pb446">[<a href="#pb446">446</a>]</span>acquired. They are primordial aptitudes, bestowed here and denied there; time cannot -awaken them by a slow incubation, nor are they decreed by any similarity of organization. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb447">[<a href="#pb447">447</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div id="xd31e4389"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e4389src">1</a></span> Kirby and other English naturalists refer to <i lang="la">Aphrophora spumaria</i> as the Frothy Froghopper; but this is rather because the insect’s outline and hopping-powers -suggest those of a Frog.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e4389src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div id="xd31e4469"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e4469src">2</a></span> The larva of the Lily-beetle (<i lang="la">Crioceris merdigera</i>), the essay on which insect has not yet been translated into English.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e4469src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="back"> -<div id="ix" class="div1 index"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e401">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">INDEX</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">A</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"><i lang="la">Acherontia atropos</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.deaths-head.hawk-moth">Death’s-head Hawk-moth</a>) -</p> -<p>Adder, <a href="#pb122" class="pageref">122</a>, <a href="#pb125" class="pageref">125</a>, <a href="#pb206" class="pageref">206</a> -</p> -<p>Æsop, <a href="#pb6" class="pageref">6</a>–7 -</p> -<p>Agrion, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.alpine.analota">Alpine Analota, <a href="#pb231" class="pageref">231</a>–235, <a href="#pb238" class="pageref">238</a>, <a href="#pb299" class="pageref">299</a>, <a href="#pb373" class="pageref">373</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Ameles decolor</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.grey.mantis">Grey Mantis</a>) -</p> -<p>Ammonite, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Ammophila holosericea</i>, <a href="#pb202" class="pageref">202</a>–204 -</p> -<p>Anacreon, <a href="#pb13" class="pageref">13</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Analota alpina</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.alpine.analota">Alpine Analota</a>) -</p> -<p>Anianus, <a href="#pb5" class="pageref">5</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Anoxia pilosa</i>, <a href="#pb290" class="pageref">290</a> -</p> -<p>Ant, <a href="#pb1" class="pageref">1</a>–2, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a>–5, <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a>, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>–24, <a href="#pb176" class="pageref">176</a>–178, <a href="#pb181" class="pageref">181</a>, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a>, <a href="#pb187" class="pageref">187</a>–190, <a href="#pb199" class="pageref">199</a>, <a href="#pb263" class="pageref">263</a>, <a href="#pb298" class="pageref">298</a>, <a href="#pb307" class="pageref">307</a>, <a href="#pb321" class="pageref">321</a>–323 -</p> -<p>Anthidium, <a href="#pb203" class="pageref">203</a> -</p> -<p>Anthophora, <a href="#pb109" class="pageref">109</a> -</p> -<p>Anthrax, <a href="#pb100" class="pageref">100</a> -</p> -<p>Ant-lion, <a href="#pb307" class="pageref">307</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.aphis">Aphis, <a href="#pb178" class="pageref">178</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Aphrophora spumaria</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.foamy.cicadella">Foamy Cicadella</a>) -</p> -<p>Aristotle, <a href="#pb50" class="pageref">50</a>–51, <a href="#pb53" class="pageref">53</a>–55, <a href="#pb366" class="pageref">366</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.ash.cicada">Ash Cicada, <a href="#pb59" class="pageref">59</a>, <a href="#pb66" class="pageref">66</a>–75, <a href="#pb80" class="pageref">80</a>, <a href="#pb94" class="pageref">94</a> -</p> -<p>Asparagus-beetle, <a href="#pb445" class="pageref">445</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.ass">Ass, <a href="#pb138" class="pageref">138</a>, <a href="#pb257" class="pageref">257</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">B</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Badger, <a href="#pb308" class="pageref">308</a> -</p> -<p>Bat, <a href="#pb201" class="pageref">201</a>–202 -</p> -<p>Bee, <a href="#pb92" class="pageref">92</a>, <a href="#pb121" class="pageref">121</a>, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>, <a href="#pb146" class="pageref">146</a>, <a href="#pb180" class="pageref">180</a>, <a href="#pb202" class="pageref">202</a>, <a href="#pb247" class="pageref">247</a>, <a href="#pb251" class="pageref">251</a>, <a href="#pb256" class="pageref">256</a> -</p> -<p>Beetle (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb22" class="pageref">22</a>, <a href="#pb146" class="pageref">146</a>, <a href="#pb255" class="pageref">255</a>–256, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a> -</p> -<p>Bellot, M., <a href="#pb232" class="pageref">232</a> -</p> -<p>Béranger, Pierre Jean de, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb13" class="pageref">13</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.black.cicada">Black Cicada, <a href="#pb59" class="pageref">59</a>, <a href="#pb73" class="pageref">73</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.blue-winged.locust">Blue-winged Locust, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a>–217, <a href="#pb381" class="pageref">381</a>–383, <a href="#pb389" class="pageref">389</a>, <a href="#pb397" class="pageref">397</a>–400 -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Bolboceras gallicus</i>, <a href="#pb255" class="pageref">255</a>–256 -</p> -<p>Bombyx, <a href="#pb205" class="pageref">205</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.bordeaux.cricket">Bordeaux Cricket, <a href="#pb309" class="pageref">309</a>–310, <a href="#pb345" class="pageref">345</a>–346 -</p> -<p>Buffon, Georges Louis Leclerc de, <a href="#pb253" class="pageref">253</a> -</p> -<p>Bull, <a href="#pb69" class="pageref">69</a>, <a href="#pb249" class="pageref">249</a> -</p> -<p>Bull, the author’s Dog, <a href="#pb133" class="pageref">133</a>–134 -</p> -<p>Buprestis, <a href="#pb31" class="pageref">31</a>–33 -</p> -<p>Burying-beetle (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.necrophorus">Necrophorus</a>) -</p> -<p>Butterfly (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb121" class="pageref">121</a>, <a href="#pb125" class="pageref">125</a>, <a href="#pb146" class="pageref">146</a>, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a>, <a href="#pb198" class="pageref">198</a>–199, <a href="#pb256" class="pageref">256</a>, <a href="#pb302" class="pageref">302</a>–305 -<span class="pageNum" id="pb448">[<a href="#pb448">448</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">C</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Cabbage Butterfly (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.white.cabbage.butterfly">White Cabbage Butterfly</a>) -</p> -<p><i>Cacan</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.ash.cicada">Ash Cicada</a>) -</p> -<p>Callot, Jacques, <a href="#pb194" class="pageref">194</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Caloptenus italicus</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.italian.locust">Italian Locust</a>) -</p> -<p>Camel, <a href="#pb362" class="pageref">362</a> -</p> -<p>Capon, <a href="#pb188" class="pageref">188</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.capricorn">Capricorn, <a href="#pb31" class="pageref">31</a>–33, <a href="#pb255" class="pageref">255</a>–256 -</p> -<p><i>Cassida</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.tortoise-beetle">Tortoise-beetle</a>) -</p> -<p>Cat, <a href="#pb3" class="pageref">3</a>, <a href="#pb140" class="pageref">140</a>, <a href="#pb196" class="pageref">196</a>, <a href="#pb282" class="pageref">282</a> -</p> -<p>Centipede, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p>Century Co., <a href="#pb.vii" class="pageref">vii</a> -</p> -<p>Cephalopod, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a>, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>, <a href="#pb299" class="pageref">299</a> -</p> -<p>Cerambyx (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.capricorn">Capricorn</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.cetonia">Cetonia, <a href="#pb11" class="pageref">11</a>, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a> -</p> -<p>Chaffinch, <a href="#pb147" class="pageref">147</a> -</p> -<p>Chalcis, <a href="#pb92" class="pageref">92</a>, <a href="#pb178" class="pageref">178</a> -</p> -<p>Chalicodoma, <a href="#pb365" class="pageref">365</a> -</p> -<p>Chicken, <a href="#pb188" class="pageref">188</a> -</p> -<p>Chrysomela, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.cicada">Cicada (<i>see also</i> the varieties), vii, <a href="#pb1" class="pageref">1</a>–112, <a href="#pb171" class="pageref">171</a>–172, <a href="#pb178" class="pageref">178</a>, <a href="#pb242" class="pageref">242</a>, <a href="#pb256" class="pageref">256</a>, <a href="#pb258" class="pageref">258</a>–259, <a href="#pb263" class="pageref">263</a>, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>, <a href="#pb276" class="pageref">276</a>–278, <a href="#pb287" class="pageref">287</a>–291, <a href="#pb343" class="pageref">343</a>–344, <a href="#pb366" class="pageref">366</a>, <a href="#pb412" class="pageref">412</a>, <a href="#pb416" class="pageref">416</a>, <a href="#pb426" class="pageref">426</a>–427 -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cicada atra</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.black.cicada">Black Cicada</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cicada hematodes</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.red.cicada">Red Cicada</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cicada orni</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.ash.cicada">Ash Cicada</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cicada plebeia</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.common.cicada">Common Cicada</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cicada pygmæa</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.pigmy.cicada">Pigmy Cicada</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.cicada.tomentosa"><i lang="la">Cicada tomentosa</i>, <a href="#pb73" class="pageref">73</a> -</p> -<p><i>Cigale</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.cicada">Cicada</a>) -</p> -<p><i>Cigalon</i>, <i>Cigaloun</i> (<i>see Cicada tomentosa</i>) -</p> -<p>Coaltit, <a href="#pb265" class="pageref">265</a> -</p> -<p>Cockchafer (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.pine.cockchafer">Pine Cockchafer</a>), <a href="#pb290" class="pageref">290</a> -</p> -<p>Cockroach, <a href="#pb287" class="pageref">287</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p>Cod, <a href="#pb186" class="pageref">186</a>–187 -</p> -<p>Common Black Cricket, Common Cricket (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.field.cricket">Field Cricket</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.common.cicada">Common Cicada, <a href="#pb59" class="pageref">59</a>–66, <a href="#pb70" class="pageref">70</a>–72, <a href="#pb74" class="pageref">74</a>–112 -</p> -<p>Common Owl, <a href="#pb282" class="pageref">282</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.common.snail">Common Snail, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Conocephalus mandibularis</i>, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb266" class="pageref">266</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.copris">Copris, <a href="#pb255" class="pageref">255</a>–256 -</p> -<p>Crab, <a href="#pb130" class="pageref">130</a>, <a href="#pb366" class="pageref">366</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.crab.spider">Crab Spider, <a href="#pb129" class="pageref">129</a>–136 -</p> -<p>Crayfish, <a href="#pb410" class="pageref">410</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.crested.lark">Crested Lark, <a href="#pb325" class="pageref">325</a>–326 -</p> -<p id="ix.cricket">Cricket (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb.vii" class="pageref">vii</a>, <a href="#pb256" class="pageref">256</a>, <a href="#pb258" class="pageref">258</a>–259, <a href="#pb266" class="pageref">266</a>, <a href="#pb287" class="pageref">287</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb295" class="pageref">295</a> -</p> -<p><i>Cri-cri</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.cricket">Cricket</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Crioceris merdigera</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.lily-beetle">Lily-beetle</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.cross.spider">Cross Spider, <a href="#pb120" class="pageref">120</a> -</p> -<p>Crow, <a href="#pb3" class="pageref">3</a> -</p> -<p>Cuckoo, <a href="#pb424" class="pageref">424</a> -</p> -<p>Cuckoo-spit (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.foamy.cicadella">Foamy Cicadella</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="fr">Cul-blanc</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.wheatear">Wheatear</a>) -</p> -<p>Cuttlefish, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a><i>n</i> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">D</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Daumas, General Eugène, <a href="#pb361" class="pageref">361</a> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb449">[<a href="#pb449">449</a>]</span></p> -<p id="ix.deaths-head.hawk-moth">Death’s-head Hawk-moth, <a href="#pb438" class="pageref">438</a>–439 -</p> -<p>Decticus (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb121" class="pageref">121</a>, <a href="#pb123" class="pageref">123</a>–124, <a href="#pb266" class="pageref">266</a>, <a href="#pb287" class="pageref">287</a>, <a href="#pb296" class="pageref">296</a>, <a href="#pb299" class="pageref">299</a>, <a href="#pb314" class="pageref">314</a>, <a href="#pb317" class="pageref">317</a>–318, <a href="#pb327" class="pageref">327</a>, <a href="#pb329" class="pageref">329</a>, <a href="#pb336" class="pageref">336</a>–337, <a href="#pb399" class="pageref">399</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Decticus albifrons</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.white-faced.decticus">White-faced Decticus</a>) -</p> -<p>Devilkin (<i>see <span lang="la">Empusa pauperata</span></i>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Diadema, Epeira</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.cross.spider">Cross Spider</a>) -</p> -<p>Dioscorides, <a href="#pb50" class="pageref">50</a>, <a href="#pb56" class="pageref">56</a> -</p> -<p>Dog, <a href="#pb319" class="pageref">319</a> -</p> -<p>Donkey (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.ass">Ass</a>) -</p> -<p>Dorbeetle (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.geotrupes">Geotrupes</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.double-spotted.cricket">Double-spotted Cricket, <a href="#pb309" class="pageref">309</a>–310 -</p> -<p id="ix.dragon-fly">Dragon-fly, <a href="#pb121" class="pageref">121</a>, <a href="#pb225" class="pageref">225</a>, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a> -</p> -<p>Drone, <a href="#pb22" class="pageref">22</a> -</p> -<p>Drone-fly (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.eristalis">Eristalis</a>) -</p> -<p>Dryden, John, <a href="#pb249" class="pageref">249</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb341" class="pageref">341</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb351" class="pageref">351</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p>Dung-beetle, <a href="#pb316" class="pageref">316</a>, <a href="#pb322" class="pageref">322</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">E</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Earwig, <a href="#pb11" class="pageref">11</a>, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a>, <a href="#pb287" class="pageref">287</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p>Edwards, Osman, <a href="#pb.viii" class="pageref">viii</a>, <a href="#pb20" class="pageref">20</a> -</p> -<p>Elephant, <a href="#pb53" class="pageref">53</a>, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>–274 -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Empusa pauperata</i>, <a href="#pb162" class="pageref">162</a>, <a href="#pb191" class="pageref">191</a>–210 -</p> -<p>Epeira (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb121" class="pageref">121</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Epeira diadema</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.cross.spider">Cross Spider</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Epeira sericea</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.silky.epeira">Silky Epeira</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.ephippiger">Ephippiger (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.vine.ephippiger">Vine Ephippiger</a>), <a href="#pb124" class="pageref">124</a>, <a href="#pb229" class="pageref">229</a>–230, <a href="#pb232" class="pageref">232</a>, <a href="#pb327" class="pageref">327</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Ephippiger vitium</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.vine.ephippiger">Vine Ephippiger</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.eristalis">Eristalis, <a href="#pb197" class="pageref">197</a> -</p> -<p>Eucera, <a href="#pb203" class="pageref">203</a> -</p> -<p>Euripides, <a href="#pb290" class="pageref">290</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p id="ix.eyed.lizard">Eyed Lizard, <a href="#pb363" class="pageref">363</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">F</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Fabre, Mlle. Marie Pauline, the author’s daughter, <a href="#pb356" class="pageref">356</a>–357 -</p> -<p>Fabre, Paul, the author’s son, <a href="#pb356" class="pageref">356</a> -</p> -<p>Fallow-chat (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.wheatear">Wheatear</a>) -</p> -<p>Fallow-finch (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.wheatear">Wheatear</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.field.cricket">Field Cricket, <a href="#pb283" class="pageref">283</a>–284, <a href="#pb300" class="pageref">300</a>–347, <a href="#pb350" class="pageref">350</a> -</p> -<p>Field-mouse, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a> -</p> -<p>Flea, <a href="#pb102" class="pageref">102</a> -</p> -<p>Florian, Jean Pierre Claris de, <a href="#pb302" class="pageref">302</a>, <a href="#pb306" class="pageref">306</a> -</p> -<p>Fly (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.house-fly">House-fly</a>), <a href="#pb3" class="pageref">3</a>, <a href="#pb11" class="pageref">11</a>, <a href="#pb22" class="pageref">22</a>–23, <a href="#pb118" class="pageref">118</a>, <a href="#pb121" class="pageref">121</a>, <a href="#pb146" class="pageref">146</a>, <a href="#pb179" class="pageref">179</a>, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a>, <a href="#pb199" class="pageref">199</a>–200, <a href="#pb256" class="pageref">256</a>, <a href="#pb263" class="pageref">263</a>, <a href="#pb444" class="pageref">444</a>–445 -</p> -<p id="ix.foamy.cicadella">Foamy Cicadella, vii, <a href="#pb287" class="pageref">287</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb424" class="pageref">424</a>–446 -</p> -<p>Fox, <a href="#pb3" class="pageref">3</a>, <a href="#pb308" class="pageref">308</a> -</p> -<p>Franklin, Benjamin, <a href="#pb335" class="pageref">335</a> -</p> -<p>Frog, <a href="#pb257" class="pageref">257</a> -</p> -<p>Frog-hopper, Frog-spit (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.foamy.cicadella">Foamy Cicadella</a>) -</p> -<p>Frothy Frog-hopper (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.foamy.cicadella">Foamy Cicadella</a>) -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">G</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Garden Spider (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.cross.spider">Cross Spider</a>, <a href="#ix.silky.epeira">Silky Epeira</a>) -<span class="pageNum" id="pb450">[<a href="#pb450">450</a>]</span></p> -<p id="ix.geotrupes">Geotrupes, <a href="#pb27" class="pageref">27</a> -</p> -<p>Gérard, Jean Ignace Isidore (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.grandville">Grandville</a>) -</p> -<p>Glow-worm, <a href="#pb283" class="pageref">283</a> -</p> -<p>Gnat, <a href="#pb92" class="pageref">92</a>–94, <a href="#pb127" class="pageref">127</a>, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a>, <a href="#pb322" class="pageref">322</a>, <a href="#pb422" class="pageref">422</a> -</p> -<p>Goat, <a href="#pb3" class="pageref">3</a>, <a href="#pb249" class="pageref">249</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.grandville">Grandville, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a> -</p> -<p>Grasshopper (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.green.grasshopper">Green Grasshopper</a>, <a href="#ix.ephippiger">Ephippiger</a>, <a href="#ix.vine.ephippiger">Vine Ephippiger</a>), <a href="#pb.vii" class="pageref">vii</a>, <a href="#pb5" class="pageref">5</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb8" class="pageref">8</a>, <a href="#pb80" class="pageref">80</a>, <a href="#pb117" class="pageref">117</a>, <a href="#pb119" class="pageref">119</a>, <a href="#pb135" class="pageref">135</a>, <a href="#pb140" class="pageref">140</a>, <a href="#pb198" class="pageref">198</a>–199, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a>, <a href="#pb218" class="pageref">218</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>, <a href="#pb229" class="pageref">229</a>, <a href="#pb233" class="pageref">233</a>, <a href="#pb238" class="pageref">238</a>–241, <a href="#pb245" class="pageref">245</a>, <a href="#pb256" class="pageref">256</a>, <a href="#pb258" class="pageref">258</a>, <a href="#pb266" class="pageref">266</a>–271, <a href="#pb277" class="pageref">277</a>, <a href="#pb282" class="pageref">282</a>, <a href="#pb287" class="pageref">287</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb327" class="pageref">327</a>–328, <a href="#pb337" class="pageref">337</a>, <a href="#pb362" class="pageref">362</a>–363, <a href="#pb365" class="pageref">365</a>, <a href="#pb370" class="pageref">370</a>, <a href="#pb379" class="pageref">379</a>, <a href="#pb392" class="pageref">392</a>, <a href="#pb397" class="pageref">397</a>–399 -</p> -<p>Greenfinch, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a> -</p> -<p>Green Fly (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.aphis">Aphis</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.green.grasshopper">Green Grasshopper, <a href="#pb228" class="pageref">228</a>–229, <a href="#pb238" class="pageref">238</a>, <a href="#pb263" class="pageref">263</a>–265, <a href="#pb275" class="pageref">275</a>–299, <a href="#pb327" class="pageref">327</a>, <a href="#pb344" class="pageref">344</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.green.tree-frog">Green Tree-frog, <a href="#pb80" class="pageref">80</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.grey.decticus">Grey Decticus, <a href="#pb238" class="pageref">238</a>, <a href="#pb265" class="pageref">265</a>–266 -</p> -<p>Grey Flesh-fly, <a href="#pb245" class="pageref">245</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.grey.lizard">Grey Lizard, <a href="#pb177" class="pageref">177</a>–178, <a href="#pb181" class="pageref">181</a>, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>, <a href="#pb321" class="pageref">321</a>, <a href="#pb363" class="pageref">363</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.grey.locust">Grey Locust, <a href="#pb120" class="pageref">120</a>–121, <a href="#pb124" class="pageref">124</a>, <a href="#pb127" class="pageref">127</a>, <a href="#pb139" class="pageref">139</a>, <a href="#pb355" class="pageref">355</a>, <a href="#pb372" class="pageref">372</a>, <a href="#pb383" class="pageref">383</a>–388, <a href="#pb392" class="pageref">392</a>, <a href="#pb393" class="pageref">393</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb395" class="pageref">395</a>, <a href="#pb401" class="pageref">401</a>–423 -</p> -<p id="ix.grey.mantis">Grey Mantis, <a href="#pb126" class="pageref">126</a>–127, <a href="#pb146" class="pageref">146</a>, <a href="#pb160" class="pageref">160</a>–161, <a href="#pb165" class="pageref">165</a>–166, <a href="#pb173" class="pageref">173</a>–174, <a href="#pb207" class="pageref">207</a>–208 -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Gryllus bimaculatus</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.double-spotted.cricket">Double-spotted Cricket</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Gryllus burdigalensis</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.bordeaux.cricket">Bordeaux Cricket</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Gryllus desertus</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.solitary.cricket">Solitary Cricket</a>) -</p> -<p>Guinea-fowl, <a href="#pb357" class="pageref">357</a>–358 -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">H</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Hare, <a href="#pb300" class="pageref">300</a>–301 -</p> -<p>Harpalus, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Helix aspersa</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.common.snail">Common Snail</a>) -</p> -<p>Hen, <a href="#pb358" class="pageref">358</a>, <a href="#pb383" class="pageref">383</a> -</p> -<p>Herod Antipas, <a href="#pb365" class="pageref">365</a> -</p> -<p>Hive-bee, <a href="#pb130" class="pageref">130</a>–135 -</p> -<p>Horned Owl (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.scops-owl">Scops-owl</a>) -</p> -<p>Hornet, <a href="#pb22" class="pageref">22</a>, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a> -</p> -<p>House Cricket, <a href="#pb346" class="pageref">346</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.house-fly">House-fly, <a href="#pb195" class="pageref">195</a>–197, <a href="#pb199" class="pageref">199</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">I</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.intermediary.decticus" class="first">Intermediary Decticus, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb265" class="pageref">265</a>–266 -</p> -<p id="ix.italian.cricket">Italian Cricket, <a href="#pb283" class="pageref">283</a>–284, <a href="#pb346" class="pageref">346</a>–352 -</p> -<p id="ix.italian.locust">Italian Locust, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb355" class="pageref">355</a>–356, <a href="#pb370" class="pageref">370</a>–372, <a href="#pb379" class="pageref">379</a>–381, <a href="#pb390" class="pageref">390</a> -</p> -<p>Iulus, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">J</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Jacotot, Joseph, <a href="#pb49" class="pageref">49</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">K</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Kirby, William, <a href="#pb425" class="pageref">425</a><i>n</i> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">L</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">La Fontaine, Jean de, <a href="#pb3" class="pageref">3</a>–5, <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a>, <a href="#pb263" class="pageref">263</a>, <a href="#pb300" class="pageref">300</a>–302, <a href="#pb306" class="pageref">306</a> -</p> -<p>Lark (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.crested.lark">Crested Lark</a>), <a href="#pb189" class="pageref">189</a> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb451">[<a href="#pb451">451</a>]</span></p> -<p>L’Estrange, Sir Roger, <a href="#pb5" class="pageref">5</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p>Leucospis, <a href="#pb92" class="pageref">92</a>, <a href="#pb100" class="pageref">100</a> -</p> -<p>Libellula (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.dragon-fly">Dragon-fly</a>, <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.meganeura.monyi">Meganeura Monyi</a></i>) -</p> -<p id="ix.lily-beetle">Lily-beetle, <a href="#pb437" class="pageref">437</a>, <a href="#pb444" class="pageref">444</a> -</p> -<p>Little Cicada, Little Cigale (<i>see</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.cicada.tomentosa">Cicada tomentosa</a></i>) -</p> -<p>Lizard (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.eyed.lizard">Eyed Lizard</a>, <a href="#ix.grey.lizard">Grey Lizard</a>) -</p> -<p>Locust (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb.vii" class="pageref">vii</a>, <a href="#pb53" class="pageref">53</a>, <a href="#pb117" class="pageref">117</a>, <a href="#pb119" class="pageref">119</a>, <a href="#pb121" class="pageref">121</a>, <a href="#pb123" class="pageref">123</a>–124, <a href="#pb126" class="pageref">126</a>–130, <a href="#pb135" class="pageref">135</a>–136, <a href="#pb138" class="pageref">138</a>, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>, <a href="#pb163" class="pageref">163</a>, <a href="#pb177" class="pageref">177</a>, <a href="#pb179" class="pageref">179</a>–180, <a href="#pb187" class="pageref">187</a>, <a href="#pb189" class="pageref">189</a>, <a href="#pb195" class="pageref">195</a>, <a href="#pb199" class="pageref">199</a>, <a href="#pb206" class="pageref">206</a>, <a href="#pb211" class="pageref">211</a>, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a>, <a href="#pb218" class="pageref">218</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb227" class="pageref">227</a>, <a href="#pb233" class="pageref">233</a>, <a href="#pb238" class="pageref">238</a>, <a href="#pb245" class="pageref">245</a>, <a href="#pb287" class="pageref">287</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb353" class="pageref">353</a>–423 -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Locusta viridissima</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.green.grasshopper">Green Grasshopper</a>) -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">M</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"><i lang="la">Machato banarudo</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.scops-owl">Scops-owl</a>) -</p> -<p>McKenna, Stephen, <a href="#pb.viii" class="pageref">viii</a>, <a href="#pb305" class="pageref">305</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p>Mammoth, <a href="#pb248" class="pageref">248</a>, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>, <a href="#pb368" class="pageref">368</a> -</p> -<p>Mantis (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb.vii" class="pageref">vii</a>, <a href="#pb287" class="pageref">287</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Mantis religiosa</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.praying.mantis">Praying Mantis</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.matthiolus">Matthiolus, <a href="#pb50" class="pageref">50</a> -</p> -<p>Mattioli, Pietro Andrea (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.matthiolus">Matthiolus</a>) -</p> -<p>Megalosaurus, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.meganeura.monyi"><i lang="la">Meganeura Monyi</i>, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Melolontha fullo</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.pine.cockchafer">Pine Cockchafer</a>) -</p> -<p>Miall, Bernard, vii, <a href="#pb255" class="pageref">255</a> -</p> -<p>Midge, <a href="#pb179" class="pageref">179</a>, <a href="#pb181" class="pageref">181</a>, <a href="#pb337" class="pageref">337</a> -</p> -<p>Millepede, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.moffett">Moffett, Thomas, <a href="#pb169" class="pageref">169</a> -</p> -<p>Moth (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb146" class="pageref">146</a>, <a href="#pb205" class="pageref">205</a> -</p> -<p>Moufet (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.moffett">Moffett</a>) -</p> -<p>Mouse, <a href="#pb196" class="pageref">196</a> -</p> -<p>Muffet (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.moffett">Moffett</a>) -</p> -<p>Myriapod, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a><i>n</i> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">N</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Nautilus, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.necrophorus">Necrophorus, <a href="#pb322" class="pageref">322</a> -</p> -<p>Nightingale, <a href="#pb253" class="pageref">253</a>–254 -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">O</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Octopus, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a> -</p> -<p>Odynerus, <a href="#pb203" class="pageref">203</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Œcanthus pellucens</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.italian.cricket">Italian Cricket</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Œdipoda cærulescens</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.blue-winged.locust">Blue-winged Locust</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Œdipoda miniata</i>, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p>Oil-beetle, <a href="#pb100" class="pageref">100</a>, <a href="#pb180" class="pageref">180</a> -</p> -<p>Olivier, Guillaume Antoine, <a href="#pb73" class="pageref">73</a> -</p> -<p>Omar, the second Caliph, <a href="#pb362" class="pageref">362</a>, <a href="#pb364" class="pageref">364</a>, <a href="#pb366" class="pageref">366</a> -</p> -<p>Opatrum, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a> -</p> -<p>Owl (<i>see</i> the varieties) -</p> -<p>Ox, <a href="#pb368" class="pageref">368</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">P</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"><i lang="la">Pachytylus cinerescens</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.grey.locust">Grey Locust</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Pachytylus nigrofasciatus</i>, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb381" class="pageref">381</a>–383, <a href="#pb388" class="pageref">388</a>–389 -</p> -<p>Panther, <a href="#pb53" class="pageref">53</a> -</p> -<p>Partridge (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.red-legged.partridge">Red-legged Partridge</a>), <a href="#pb249" class="pageref">249</a>, <a href="#pb364" class="pageref">364</a> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb452">[<a href="#pb452">452</a>]</span></p> -<p>Peacock, <a href="#pb53" class="pageref">53</a>, <a href="#pb122" class="pageref">122</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.pedestrian.locust">Pedestrian Locust, <a href="#pb373" class="pageref">373</a>–377, <a href="#pb389" class="pageref">389</a>–390 -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Pezotettix pedestris</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.pedestrian.locust">Pedestrian Locust</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Phaneroptera falcata</i>, <a href="#pb266" class="pageref">266</a>, <a href="#pb298" class="pageref">298</a>–299 -</p> -<p>Pheasant, <a href="#pb188" class="pageref">188</a>–189 -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Pieris brassica</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.white.cabbage.butterfly">White Cabbage Butterfly</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.pigmy.cicada">Pigmy Cicada, <a href="#pb59" class="pageref">59</a>, <a href="#pb73" class="pageref">73</a>–74 -</p> -<p id="ix.pine.cockchafer">Pine Cockchafer, <a href="#pb255" class="pageref">255</a>–256, <a href="#pb290" class="pageref">290</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Platycleis grisea</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.grey.decticus">Grey Decticus</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Platycleis intermedia</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.intermediary.decticus">Intermediary Decticus</a>) -</p> -<p>Pliny, <a href="#pb53" class="pageref">53</a>, <a href="#pb421" class="pageref">421</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.pompilus">Pompilus, <a href="#pb11" class="pageref">11</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.praying.mantis">Praying Mantis, <a href="#pb113" class="pageref">113</a>–130, <a href="#pb135" class="pageref">135</a>–191, <a href="#pb193" class="pageref">193</a>, <a href="#pb204" class="pageref">204</a>–210, <a href="#pb221" class="pageref">221</a>, <a href="#pb229" class="pageref">229</a>, <a href="#pb234" class="pageref">234</a>, <a href="#pb242" class="pageref">242</a>, <a href="#pb291" class="pageref">291</a>, <a href="#pb321" class="pageref">321</a>, <a href="#pb387" class="pageref">387</a>, <a href="#pb394" class="pageref">394</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="fr">Prégo-Dièu</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.praying.mantis">Praying Mantis</a>) -</p> -<p>Pullet, <a href="#pb188" class="pageref">188</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">Q</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Quail, <a href="#pb257" class="pageref">257</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">R</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Rabbit, <a href="#pb3" class="pageref">3</a>, <a href="#pb308" class="pageref">308</a> -</p> -<p>Rabelais, François, <a href="#pb51" class="pageref">51</a>, <a href="#pb57" class="pageref">57</a> -</p> -<p>Ram, <a href="#pb195" class="pageref">195</a> -</p> -<p><i>Rassado</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.eyed.lizard">Eyed Lizard</a>) -</p> -<p>Rat, <a href="#pb3" class="pageref">3</a> -</p> -<p>Réaumur, René Antoine Ferchault de, <a href="#pb25" class="pageref">25</a>–26, <a href="#pb58" class="pageref">58</a>, <a href="#pb73" class="pageref">73</a>, <a href="#pb87" class="pageref">87</a>, <a href="#pb92" class="pageref">92</a>, <a href="#pb96" class="pageref">96</a>, <a href="#pb102" class="pageref">102</a>, <a href="#pb225" class="pageref">225</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.red.cicada">Red Cicada, <a href="#pb59" class="pageref">59</a>, <a href="#pb71" class="pageref">71</a>–72 -</p> -<p id="ix.red-legged.partridge">Red-legged Partridge, <a href="#pb358" class="pageref">358</a>–359 -</p> -<p>Reindeer, <a href="#pb251" class="pageref">251</a> -</p> -<p>Rhinoceros, <a href="#pb53" class="pageref">53</a> -</p> -<p>Ringed Calicurgus (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.pompilus">Pompilus</a>) -</p> -<p>Rodwell, Miss Frances, <a href="#pb.viii" class="pageref">viii</a> -</p> -<p>Rondelet, Guillaume, <a href="#pb51" class="pageref">51</a> -</p> -<p>Rose-chafer (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.cetonia">Cetonia</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.rumford">Rumford, Benjamin Thompson, Count, <a href="#pb160" class="pageref">160</a>–162 -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">S</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Saxicola (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.wheatear">Wheatear</a>) -</p> -<p>Scolopendra, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a>, <a href="#pb299" class="pageref">299</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.scops-owl">Scops-owl, <a href="#pb281" class="pageref">281</a>–282, <a href="#pb284" class="pageref">284</a>–285 -</p> -<p>Sheep, <a href="#pb274" class="pageref">274</a>, <a href="#pb357" class="pageref">357</a>, <a href="#pb368" class="pageref">368</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.silky.epeira">Silky Epeira, <a href="#pb120" class="pageref">120</a> -</p> -<p>Sitaris, <a href="#pb109" class="pageref">109</a> -</p> -<p>Slug, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a> -</p> -<p>Snail (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.common.snail">Common Snail</a>), <a href="#pb249" class="pageref">249</a>, <a href="#pb296" class="pageref">296</a>, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.solitary.cricket">Solitary Cricket, <a href="#pb309" class="pageref">309</a>–310 -</p> -<p>Spanish Copris (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.copris">Copris</a>) -</p> -<p>Sparrow, <a href="#pb87" class="pageref">87</a>–88, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a> -</p> -<p>Sparrow-hawk, <a href="#pb288" class="pageref">288</a> -</p> -<p>Sphex (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.yellow-winged.sphex">Yellow-winged Sphex</a>), <a href="#pb11" class="pageref">11</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Sphingonotus cærulans</i> <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p>Spider (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb145" class="pageref">145</a>, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a> -</p> -<p>Spurge-moth, <a href="#pb438" class="pageref">438</a>–439 -</p> -<p>Squid, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p>Stone-chat (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.wheatear">Wheatear</a>) -</p> -<p>Swallow, <a href="#pb288" class="pageref">288</a>, <a href="#pb355" class="pageref">355</a>, <a href="#pb424" class="pageref">424</a> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb453">[<a href="#pb453">453</a>]</span></p> -<p>Swallow-tail, <a href="#pb303" class="pageref">303</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p>Swammerdam, Jan, <a href="#pb169" class="pageref">169</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">T</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Teixeira de Mattos, Alexander, <a href="#pb11" class="pageref">11</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb92" class="pageref">92</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb100" class="pageref">100</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb109" class="pageref">109</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb120" class="pageref">120</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb245" class="pageref">245</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb255" class="pageref">255</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p>Theocritus, <a href="#pb249" class="pageref">249</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Thomisus onustus, rotundatus</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.crab.spider">Crab Spider</a>) -</p> -<p>Thompson, Benjamin (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.rumford">Rumford</a>) -</p> -<p>Thrush, <a href="#pb257" class="pageref">257</a> -</p> -<p>Tiger, <a href="#pb53" class="pageref">53</a> -</p> -<p>Tiger-beetle, <a href="#pb307" class="pageref">307</a> -</p> -<p><i>Tiro-lengo</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.wryneck">Wryneck</a>) -</p> -<p>Toad, <a href="#pb278" class="pageref">278</a>–285, <a href="#pb339" class="pageref">339</a> -</p> -<p>Topsell, Edward, <a href="#pb169" class="pageref">169</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p id="ix.tortoise-beetle">Tortoise-beetle, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a> -</p> -<p>Tousserel, Alphonse, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a> -</p> -<p>Tree-frog (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.green.tree-frog">Green Tree-frog</a>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Truxalis nasuta</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.tryxalis">Tryxalis</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.tryxalis">Tryxalis, <a href="#pb120" class="pageref">120</a>–121, <a href="#pb124" class="pageref">124</a>, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb355" class="pageref">355</a>, <a href="#pb372" class="pageref">372</a>, <a href="#pb391" class="pageref">391</a>–395 -</p> -<p>Turkey, <a href="#pb122" class="pageref">122</a>, <a href="#pb357" class="pageref">357</a>, <a href="#pb364" class="pageref">364</a>, <a href="#pb369" class="pageref">369</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">V</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.vine.ephippiger" class="first">Vine Ephippiger, <a href="#pb120" class="pageref">120</a>, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb238" class="pageref">238</a>, <a href="#pb267" class="pageref">267</a>–272, <a href="#pb294" class="pageref">294</a>–299 -</p> -<p>Virgil, <a href="#pb249" class="pageref">249</a>, <a href="#pb341" class="pageref">341</a>, <a href="#pb351" class="pageref">351</a> -</p> -<p>Voltaire, François Marie Arouet de, <a href="#pb302" class="pageref">302</a><i>n</i> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">W</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Warbler, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a>, <a href="#pb257" class="pageref">257</a>, <a href="#pb445" class="pageref">445</a> -</p> -<p>Wasp, <a href="#pb11" class="pageref">11</a>, <a href="#pb22" class="pageref">22</a>, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a>, <a href="#pb202" class="pageref">202</a>, <a href="#pb322" class="pageref">322</a> -</p> -<p>Weevil, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.wheatear">Wheatear, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a>–361 -</p> -<p>Whin-chat (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.wheatear">Wheatear</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.white.cabbage.butterfly">White Cabbage Butterfly, <a href="#pb198" class="pageref">198</a>–200 -</p> -<p id="ix.white-faced.decticus">White-faced Decticus, viii, <a href="#pb120" class="pageref">120</a>, <a href="#pb139" class="pageref">139</a>, <a href="#pb211" class="pageref">211</a>–274, <a href="#pb293" class="pageref">293</a>–294 -</p> -<p>White-tail (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.wheatear">Wheatear</a>) -</p> -<p>Wild Boar, <a href="#pb257" class="pageref">257</a> -</p> -<p>Wolf, <a href="#pb3" class="pageref">3</a>, <a href="#pb140" class="pageref">140</a>, <a href="#pb186" class="pageref">186</a> -</p> -<p>Wood-louse, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a>, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.wryneck">Wryneck, <a href="#pb188" class="pageref">188</a>–189 -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">X</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Xiphidion, <a href="#pb266" class="pageref">266</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">Y</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.yellow-winged.sphex" class="first">Yellow-winged Sphex, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="transcriberNote"> -<h2 class="main">Colophon</h2> -<h3 class="main">Availability</h3> -<p class="first">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project -Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at <a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/" rel="home">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</p> -<p>This eBook is produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at <a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://www.pgdp.net/">www.pgdp.net</a>. -</p> -<p>Scans of this book are available from the Internet Archive (copy <a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://archive.org/details/b31345347">1</a>, <a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://archive.org/details/lifegrasshopper00fabriala">2</a>, <a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://archive.org/details/lifeofthegrass00fabriala">3</a>, <a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://archive.org/details/lifegrasshopper01mattgoog">4</a>, <a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://archive.org/details/lifeofgrasshoppe00fabr">5</a>, <a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://archive.org/details/lifeofgrasshoppe00fabruoft">6</a>). -</p> -<h3 class="main">Metadata</h3> -<table class="colophonMetadata" summary="Metadata"> -<tr> -<td><b>Title:</b></td> -<td>The life of the grasshopper</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Author:</b></td> -<td>Jean-Henri-Casimir Fabre (1823–1915)</td> -<td><a href="https://viaf.org/viaf/51689251/" class="seclink">Info</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Translator:</b></td> -<td>Alexander Teixeira de Mattos (1865–1921)</td> -<td><a href="https://viaf.org/viaf/55502069/" class="seclink">Info</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Language:</b></td> -<td>English</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Original publication date:</b></td> -<td>[1917]</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Keywords:</b></td> -<td>Grasshoppers</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b></b></td> -<td>Homoptera</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b></b></td> -<td>Insects</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b></b></td> -<td>Orthoptera</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -</table> -<h3 class="main">Revision History</h3> -<ul> -<li>2021-10-29 Started. </li> -</ul> -<h3 class="main">External References</h3> -<p>This Project Gutenberg eBook contains external references. These links may not work -for you.</p> -<h3 class="main">Corrections</h3> -<p>The following corrections have been applied to the text:</p> -<table class="correctionTable" summary="Overview of corrections applied to the text."> -<tr> -<th>Page</th> -<th>Source</th> -<th>Correction</th> -<th>Edit distance</th> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e1113">51</a></td> -<td class="width40 bottom">superflous</td> -<td class="width40 bottom">superfluous</td> -<td class="bottom">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e3461">309</a></td> -<td class="width40 bottom">;</td> -<td class="width40 bottom">,</td> -<td class="bottom">1</td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE GRASSHOPPER ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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