FABRE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



Now the insect in this fable could not possibly be 

 a Cicada. La Fontaine, it is plain, was thinking of the 

 Grasshopper and as a matter of fact the English trans- 

 lations usually substitute a Grasshopper for the Cicada. 



For my village does not contain a peasant so ignorant 

 as to imagine the Cicada ever exists in winter. Every 

 tiller of the soil is familiar with the grub of this insect, 

 which he turns over with his spade whenever he banks 

 up the olive-trees at the approach of cold weather. A 

 thousand times he has seen the grub leave the ground 

 through a round hole of its own making, fasten itself to 

 a twig, split its own back, take off its skin, and turn into 

 a Cicada. 



The fable is a slander. The Cicada is no beggar, 

 though it is true that he demands a good deal of atten- 

 tion from his neighbours. Every summer he comes and 

 settles in his hundreds outside my door, amid the 

 greenery of two tall plane-trees; and here, from sun- 

 rise to sunset, he tortures my head with the rasping of 

 his harsh music. This deafening concert, this incessant 

 rattling and drumming, makes all thought impossible. 



It is true, too, that there are sometimes dealings 

 between the Cicada and the Ant; but they are exactly 

 the opposite of those described in the fable. The Cicada 

 is never dependent on others for his living. At no time 

 does he go crying famine at the doors of the Ant-hills. 



[26] 



