Fabre, Poet of Science | Page 7

rather to matters of administration and the understanding
of business, so that where Frédéric was bored, Henri was more than
content, thirstily drinking in science and poetry "among the blue
campanulas of the hills, the pink heather of the mountains, the golden
buttercups of the meadows, and the odorous bracken of the woods."
(1/6.) Apart from this the two brothers "were one"; they understood one
another in a marvellous fashion, and always loved one another. Henri
never failed to watch over Frédéric with a wholly fatherly solicitude; he
was prodigal of advice, helpful with his experience, doing his best to
smooth away all difficulties, encouraging him to walk in his footsteps
and make his way through the world behind him. He was his confidant,
giving an ear to all that befell him of good or ill; to his fears, his
disappointments, his hopes, and all his thoughts; and he took the
keenest interest in his studies and researches. On the other hand, he had
no more sure and devoted friend; none more proud of his first success,
and in later days no more enthusiastic admirer, and none more eager for
his fame. (1/7.)
He was twelve years old when his father, "the first of all his line, was
tempted by the town," and led all his family to Rodez, there to keep a
café. The future naturalist entered the school of this town, where he
served Mass on Sunday, in the chapel, in order to pay his fees. There
again he was interested in the animal creation above all. When he
began to construe Virgil the only thing that charmed him, and which he
remembered, was the landscape in which the persons of the poem move,
in which are so many "exquisite details concerning the cicada, the goat,
and the laburnum."
Thus four years went by: but then his parents were constrained to seek
their fortune elsewhere, and transported their household to Toulouse,
where again the father kept a café. The young Henri was admitted
gratuitously to the seminary of the Esquille, where he managed to

complete his fifth year. Unfortunately his progress was soon interrupted
by a new exodus on the part of his family, which emigrated this time to
Montpellier, where he was haunted for a time by dreams of medicine,
to which he seemed notably adapted. Finally, a run of bad luck
persisting, he had to bid farewell to his studies and gain his bread as
best he could. We see him set out along the wide white roads: lost,
almost a wanderer, seeking his living by the sweat of his brow; one day
selling lemons at the fair of Beaucaire, under the arcades of the market
or before the barracks of the Pré; another day enlisting in a gang of
labourers who were working on the line from Beaucaire to Nîmes,
which was then in process of construction. He knew gloomy days,
lonely and despairing. What was he doing? of what was he dreaming?
The love of nature and the passion for learning sustained him in spite of
all, and often served him as nourishment; as on the day when he dined
on a few grapes, plucked furtively at the edge of a field, after
exchanging the poor remnant of his last halfpence for a little volume of
Reboul's poems; soothing his hunger by reciting the verses of the gentle
baker-poet. Often some creature kept him company; some insect never
seen before was often his greatest pleasure; such as the pine-chafer,
which he encountered then for the first time; that superb beetle, whose
black or chestnut coat is sprinkled with specks of white velvet; which
squeaks when captured, emitting a slight complaining sound, like the
vibration of a pane of glass rubbed with the tip of a moistened finger.
(1/8.)
Already this young mind, romantic and classic at once, full of the ideal,
and so positive that it seemed to seek support in an intense grasp of
things and beings--two gifts well-nigh incompatible, and often
mutually destructive--already it knew, not only the love of study and a
passion for the truth, but the sovereign delight of feeling everything and
understanding everything.
It was under these conditions--that is, amid the rudest privations--that
he ventured to enter a competitive examination for a bursary at the
École Normale Primaire of Avignon; and his will-power realized this
first miracle of his career--he straightway obtained the highest place.

In those days, when education had barely reached the lower classes, the
instruction given in the primary normal school was still of the most
summary. Spelling, arithmetic, and geometry practically exhausted its
resources. As for natural history, a poor despised science, almost
unknown, no one dreamed of it, and no one learned or taught it; the
syllabus ignored it, because it led to nothing. For