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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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