132 FABRE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



lasts indefinitely. Thus are the leisures of solitude beguiled 

 all through the spring. The hermit 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 pleasures of life. 



Later on he plays to his mate. But, to tell the truth, his 

 attention is rewarded with little gratitude ; for in the end 

 she quarrels with him ferociously, and unless he takes to 

 flight she cripples him and even eats him more or less. But 

 indeed, in any case he soon dies. Even if he escapes his 

 pugnacious mate, he perishes in June. We are told that the 

 music-loving Greeks used to keep Cicadse in cages, the better 

 to enjoy their singing. I venture to disbelieve the story. In 

 the first place the harsh clicking of the Cicadse, when long 

 continued at close quarters, is a torture to ears that are at 

 all delicate. The Greeks' sense of hearing was too well 

 trained 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 Cicadse in captivity, unless we cover over a whole olive- 

 tree or plane-tree. 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 he has 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 ? 



The small boys of Provence, and all the South, have the 

 same tastes. In the towns a Cricket becomes the child's 

 treasured possession. The insect, petted and pampered, sings 

 to him of the simple joys of the country. Its death throws 

 the whole household into a sort of mourning. 



