216 THE BIRD 
All this life breaks forth at spring-time. From high, from low, 
on the right, on the left, these predatory tribes, échelonned by legions 
which succeed one another and relieve one another each in its month, 
in its day—the immense, the irresistible conscription of nature—will 
march to the conquest of man’s works. The division of labour is 
perfect. Each has his post marked out, and will make no mistake. 
Each will go straight to his tree or his plant. And such will be their 
tremendous numbers, that not a leaf but will have its legion. 
What wilt thou do, poor man? How wilt thou multiply thyself? 
Hast thou wings to pursue them? Hast thou even eyes to see them ? 
Thou mayest kill them at thy pleasure; their security is complete: 
kill, annihilate millions ; they live by thousands of millions! Where 
thou triumphest by sword and fire, burning up the plant itself, thou 
hearest all around the light whirring of the great army of atoms, 
which gives no heed to thy victory, and destroys unseen. 
Listen. I will give thee two counsels. Weigh them, and adopt 
the wiser. 
The first remedy for this, if you resolve upon fighting your foe, is to 
poison everything. Steep your seeds in sulphate of copper; put your 
barley under the protection of verdigris. This the foe is unprepared 
for; it disconcerts him. If he touches it, he dies or sickens. You, 
also, it is true, are scarcely flourishing; your adventurous stratagem 
may help the plagues which devastate our era. Happy age! The 
benevolent labourer poisons at the outset; this copper-coloured corn, 
handed over to the baker, ferments with the sulphate; a simple 
and agreeable means of “raising” the light pdte, to which, perhaps, 
people would object. 
No; adopt a better course than this. Take your side. Before 
so many enemies it is no shame to fall back. Let things go, and fold 
your arms. Rest, and look on. Be like that brave man who, on 
the eve of Waterloo, wounded and prostrate, contrived to lift himself 
up and scan the horizon; but he saw there Blucher, and the great 
cloud of the black army, Then he fell back, exclaiming, ‘‘ They are 
too many !” 
