CHAPTER XXI

[Contents]CHAPTER XXIA GREAT PREPARATIONThe title which we have given this chapter is that which M. Perrier, the eminent Director of the Museum of Natural History, lately inscribed at the head of a remarkable article in theRevue hebdomadaire. In this the author showed how just and how far inferior to his deserts are the honours so tardily accorded to the man whose life and labours we have sketched.We assuredly cannot say that Fabre’s name and his work have until lately remained unknown or even undervalued. At an early period he was honoured by the admiration and friendship of such men as Dufour and Duruy. On several occasions his works have been crowned by the highest awards of the Institute. Not content with belonging to the Zoological Society and the Entomological Society of France, and with being elected in 1887 corresponding member of the Academy of Sciences, he has also been granted, as though in emulation, the title of honorary member by the most famous foreign academies, the Scientific Societies of Brussels,[359]Geneva, etc., and the Entomological Societies of London, Stockholm, and St. Petersburg.If it is true, as some one has said, that posterity begins at the frontier, these numerous and flattering distinctions, coming from all points of the horizon, are full of promise for the immortality of his work. It is undoubtedly the case that foreigners benefit by a degree of remoteness which is favourable to sane judgment. For that matter, as far as Fabre is concerned, the favourable verdict of his peers is surrounded by hardly fewer guarantees of impartiality in France than abroad, for this worthy son of the Rouergue has never been of those who seek to obtain honours by any of the means that achieve success through intrigue or influence, and we may without paradox say that it is farther from his village to Paris than from Paris to London; from obscurity in his village to fame in Paris than from fame in Paris to fame in London and other capitals.Nevertheless, legitimately acquired and well founded though it might be, Fabre’s great scientific reputation had hardly extended beyond the limits of the academies and the somewhat restricted circle of professional biologists and naturalists, or that of a few[360]amateurs who were better informed than their fellows, or more perspicacious in the choice of their reading.Was it not just to exhibit, beyond this circle of initiates, achievements that belonged to all and had all the qualities requisite for popularity? Was it not right to draw this great man out of the obscurity in which he had so long shut himself up, and at last to place this distinguished figure on the magnificent pedestal built up by half a century’s work of the highest value, and the greater part of a century of a poor and laborious life? So thought the friends and admirers of the hermit of Sérignan, who organised, last year, the celebration of his jubilee, and, in the Press, cited him in the order of the day.These celebrations took place in the familiar rustic setting so dear to the aged scientist. It was a morning of April, in the little village of Vaucluse which we need not name, at the edge of the enclosure where for more than forty years he has keptrendezvouswith his insects, on the threshold of the house that shelters his studious retirement. The venerable naturalist was there, surrounded by the members of his beloved family, his constant collaborators, with whose names he[361]loved to sprinkle the pages of his books. To greet him came the worthy folk of Sérignan, justly proud of him, his friends from far and near, and the delegates of the learned societies of France and foreign countries, with whom the representatives of the State, the Sub-prefect of Orange and the Prefect of Avignon, had the good taste to associate themselves.At the moment when an unexpected ray of sunlight filtered through the clouds like a caress and a benediction from Heaven upon the head of the old scientist, ever faithful to the call of the Power on high, France and Sweden, to mention only the most eager, joined in crowning him with laurels; France offering him a magnificent gold plaque in the name of the Academy of Sciences, and Sweden the Linnæan Medal in the name of the Royal Academy of Stockholm. France—or rather, theAcadémie Française—has since then offered a further evidence of her admiration by granting him the largest of its money prizes and unanimously recommending him to the jury entrusted with the award of the Nobel Prize.There are seldom fêtes without banquets or banquets without speeches. Among the speeches delivered at Sérignan at the banquet[362]of April 3rd, we must at least mention M. Perrier’s, from which we give an extract on the first page of this book. It may be foundin extensoin theRevue scientifiquefor the 7th of May, 1910. The series of toasts was followed by the reading of numerous telegrams of congratulation, the most loudly applauded of these being that of M. Edmond Rostand, which ran as follows:Prevented from being in your midst, I am nevertheless in spirit with those who are to-day honouring a man worthy of all admiration, one of the purest glories of France, the great scientist whose work I admire, the profound and racy poet, the Virgil of the insects, who has brought us to our knees in the grass, the hermit whose life is the most wonderful example of wisdom, the noble figure that, under its black felt hat, makes Sérignan the complement of Maillane.It must be recorded that Maillane had cordially united with Sérignan, and that poetry and science were at one in celebrating the fame of the man who has justly been called the poet of entomology.Such, in its most salient features, was the festival which consecrated, a little late in the day, one of our purest national glories.This homage had not the ephemeral character of most jubilees, even scientific ones. It[363]found more than one echo, and had an aftermath throughout the country. We will not insist further upon the eager, enthusiastic interest extended by the public to the new edition of theSouvenirs, and the publication ofLa Vie des InsectesandLes Mœurs des Insectes, which are volumes of selected extracts from theSouvenirs, nor even on the decoration of the Legion of Honour which so justly raised to the rank of officer him who had been a simplechevalierfor forty years.But we must refer at somewhat greater length to the three proofs of admiration which must have found their way most surely to his heart.The first, to which we have already alluded, came from the highest literary authority of France, and, we might say, of the world. In his report on the literary prizes awarded by theAcadémie Française, M. Thureau-Dangui devoted the following passage to our friend:I have reserved to the last the largest of our direct prizes, the Neé prize, awarded to the author of theSouvenirs entomologiques, M. Jean-Henri Fabre. He cannot, at all events, be accused of indiscreet solicitation. In his hermitage at Sérignan, where he has pursued a long life of toil, a life so modest that despite the most wonderful discoveries[364]it was for a long time a life of obscurity, M. Fabre gave not a thought to theAcadémie Française, which is all the better pleased to show that it was thinking of him.M. Fabre has, indeed, too clear a vision and too sane a mind not to perceive the problems of a philosophical order which arise from the wonderful data of his discoveries. At every step, in the mysterious domain of instinct, reason cannot fail to divine, beyond the little kingdom explored by observation, the unfathomable secrets of creation.To all, even to those who believe themselves least interested in matters of natural history, I cannot refrain from saying: “Read these narratives; you will appreciate their charm, their geniality, their simplicity, their life; you will fall in love with this delightful science, which is pursued day after day in the beautiful summer weather, “to the song of the Cicadæ;” this science which is truly Latin, Virgilian at times, which goes hand in hand with poetry, which is so imbued with love that it sometimes seems as though there arose, from these humble entomological souvenirs, a strophe of the canticle of created things.”1A mark of homage, which, indeed, adds nothing to the fame of the celebrated laureate of the Institute and so many other learned Academies, but which deserves mention here because it certainly touched a fibre of the old scientist’s heart which all the rest might have[365]failed to stir, is that which was accorded him by the little Society which gathers about the belfry of Rodez the intellectualéliteof his own country-side.The records of theSociété des lettres, sciences et arts de l’Aveyroncontain, in the minutes of the session of the 27th October 1910, a communication from the president of the Society which closes with the words:In order to associate ourselves in some fashion with the unanimous bestowal of honours and eulogy of which this venerable old man is at present the recipient, we propose to accord him the title of honorary member. It is the highest distinction at our disposal, and we think he will accept it with sympathy.Needless to say that the whole assembly accepted their president’s proposal with enthusiasm and by acclamation. Some time later the famous naturalist wrote to the Society, through his present biographer, a touching letter of thanks, in which he said, among other things, that, coming from his own country, this distinction had been very precious to him. The delicate feeling expressed in these words gives us to hope that the contribution to the work of reparation which we have sought to make will not be without some value in his eyes.[366]1Session of the 8th December 1910.↑

CHAPTER XXIA GREAT PREPARATION

The title which we have given this chapter is that which M. Perrier, the eminent Director of the Museum of Natural History, lately inscribed at the head of a remarkable article in theRevue hebdomadaire. In this the author showed how just and how far inferior to his deserts are the honours so tardily accorded to the man whose life and labours we have sketched.We assuredly cannot say that Fabre’s name and his work have until lately remained unknown or even undervalued. At an early period he was honoured by the admiration and friendship of such men as Dufour and Duruy. On several occasions his works have been crowned by the highest awards of the Institute. Not content with belonging to the Zoological Society and the Entomological Society of France, and with being elected in 1887 corresponding member of the Academy of Sciences, he has also been granted, as though in emulation, the title of honorary member by the most famous foreign academies, the Scientific Societies of Brussels,[359]Geneva, etc., and the Entomological Societies of London, Stockholm, and St. Petersburg.If it is true, as some one has said, that posterity begins at the frontier, these numerous and flattering distinctions, coming from all points of the horizon, are full of promise for the immortality of his work. It is undoubtedly the case that foreigners benefit by a degree of remoteness which is favourable to sane judgment. For that matter, as far as Fabre is concerned, the favourable verdict of his peers is surrounded by hardly fewer guarantees of impartiality in France than abroad, for this worthy son of the Rouergue has never been of those who seek to obtain honours by any of the means that achieve success through intrigue or influence, and we may without paradox say that it is farther from his village to Paris than from Paris to London; from obscurity in his village to fame in Paris than from fame in Paris to fame in London and other capitals.Nevertheless, legitimately acquired and well founded though it might be, Fabre’s great scientific reputation had hardly extended beyond the limits of the academies and the somewhat restricted circle of professional biologists and naturalists, or that of a few[360]amateurs who were better informed than their fellows, or more perspicacious in the choice of their reading.Was it not just to exhibit, beyond this circle of initiates, achievements that belonged to all and had all the qualities requisite for popularity? Was it not right to draw this great man out of the obscurity in which he had so long shut himself up, and at last to place this distinguished figure on the magnificent pedestal built up by half a century’s work of the highest value, and the greater part of a century of a poor and laborious life? So thought the friends and admirers of the hermit of Sérignan, who organised, last year, the celebration of his jubilee, and, in the Press, cited him in the order of the day.These celebrations took place in the familiar rustic setting so dear to the aged scientist. It was a morning of April, in the little village of Vaucluse which we need not name, at the edge of the enclosure where for more than forty years he has keptrendezvouswith his insects, on the threshold of the house that shelters his studious retirement. The venerable naturalist was there, surrounded by the members of his beloved family, his constant collaborators, with whose names he[361]loved to sprinkle the pages of his books. To greet him came the worthy folk of Sérignan, justly proud of him, his friends from far and near, and the delegates of the learned societies of France and foreign countries, with whom the representatives of the State, the Sub-prefect of Orange and the Prefect of Avignon, had the good taste to associate themselves.At the moment when an unexpected ray of sunlight filtered through the clouds like a caress and a benediction from Heaven upon the head of the old scientist, ever faithful to the call of the Power on high, France and Sweden, to mention only the most eager, joined in crowning him with laurels; France offering him a magnificent gold plaque in the name of the Academy of Sciences, and Sweden the Linnæan Medal in the name of the Royal Academy of Stockholm. France—or rather, theAcadémie Française—has since then offered a further evidence of her admiration by granting him the largest of its money prizes and unanimously recommending him to the jury entrusted with the award of the Nobel Prize.There are seldom fêtes without banquets or banquets without speeches. Among the speeches delivered at Sérignan at the banquet[362]of April 3rd, we must at least mention M. Perrier’s, from which we give an extract on the first page of this book. It may be foundin extensoin theRevue scientifiquefor the 7th of May, 1910. The series of toasts was followed by the reading of numerous telegrams of congratulation, the most loudly applauded of these being that of M. Edmond Rostand, which ran as follows:Prevented from being in your midst, I am nevertheless in spirit with those who are to-day honouring a man worthy of all admiration, one of the purest glories of France, the great scientist whose work I admire, the profound and racy poet, the Virgil of the insects, who has brought us to our knees in the grass, the hermit whose life is the most wonderful example of wisdom, the noble figure that, under its black felt hat, makes Sérignan the complement of Maillane.It must be recorded that Maillane had cordially united with Sérignan, and that poetry and science were at one in celebrating the fame of the man who has justly been called the poet of entomology.Such, in its most salient features, was the festival which consecrated, a little late in the day, one of our purest national glories.This homage had not the ephemeral character of most jubilees, even scientific ones. It[363]found more than one echo, and had an aftermath throughout the country. We will not insist further upon the eager, enthusiastic interest extended by the public to the new edition of theSouvenirs, and the publication ofLa Vie des InsectesandLes Mœurs des Insectes, which are volumes of selected extracts from theSouvenirs, nor even on the decoration of the Legion of Honour which so justly raised to the rank of officer him who had been a simplechevalierfor forty years.But we must refer at somewhat greater length to the three proofs of admiration which must have found their way most surely to his heart.The first, to which we have already alluded, came from the highest literary authority of France, and, we might say, of the world. In his report on the literary prizes awarded by theAcadémie Française, M. Thureau-Dangui devoted the following passage to our friend:I have reserved to the last the largest of our direct prizes, the Neé prize, awarded to the author of theSouvenirs entomologiques, M. Jean-Henri Fabre. He cannot, at all events, be accused of indiscreet solicitation. In his hermitage at Sérignan, where he has pursued a long life of toil, a life so modest that despite the most wonderful discoveries[364]it was for a long time a life of obscurity, M. Fabre gave not a thought to theAcadémie Française, which is all the better pleased to show that it was thinking of him.M. Fabre has, indeed, too clear a vision and too sane a mind not to perceive the problems of a philosophical order which arise from the wonderful data of his discoveries. At every step, in the mysterious domain of instinct, reason cannot fail to divine, beyond the little kingdom explored by observation, the unfathomable secrets of creation.To all, even to those who believe themselves least interested in matters of natural history, I cannot refrain from saying: “Read these narratives; you will appreciate their charm, their geniality, their simplicity, their life; you will fall in love with this delightful science, which is pursued day after day in the beautiful summer weather, “to the song of the Cicadæ;” this science which is truly Latin, Virgilian at times, which goes hand in hand with poetry, which is so imbued with love that it sometimes seems as though there arose, from these humble entomological souvenirs, a strophe of the canticle of created things.”1A mark of homage, which, indeed, adds nothing to the fame of the celebrated laureate of the Institute and so many other learned Academies, but which deserves mention here because it certainly touched a fibre of the old scientist’s heart which all the rest might have[365]failed to stir, is that which was accorded him by the little Society which gathers about the belfry of Rodez the intellectualéliteof his own country-side.The records of theSociété des lettres, sciences et arts de l’Aveyroncontain, in the minutes of the session of the 27th October 1910, a communication from the president of the Society which closes with the words:In order to associate ourselves in some fashion with the unanimous bestowal of honours and eulogy of which this venerable old man is at present the recipient, we propose to accord him the title of honorary member. It is the highest distinction at our disposal, and we think he will accept it with sympathy.Needless to say that the whole assembly accepted their president’s proposal with enthusiasm and by acclamation. Some time later the famous naturalist wrote to the Society, through his present biographer, a touching letter of thanks, in which he said, among other things, that, coming from his own country, this distinction had been very precious to him. The delicate feeling expressed in these words gives us to hope that the contribution to the work of reparation which we have sought to make will not be without some value in his eyes.[366]

We assuredly cannot say that Fabre’s name and his work have until lately remained unknown or even undervalued. At an early period he was honoured by the admiration and friendship of such men as Dufour and Duruy. On several occasions his works have been crowned by the highest awards of the Institute. Not content with belonging to the Zoological Society and the Entomological Society of France, and with being elected in 1887 corresponding member of the Academy of Sciences, he has also been granted, as though in emulation, the title of honorary member by the most famous foreign academies, the Scientific Societies of Brussels,[359]Geneva, etc., and the Entomological Societies of London, Stockholm, and St. Petersburg.

If it is true, as some one has said, that posterity begins at the frontier, these numerous and flattering distinctions, coming from all points of the horizon, are full of promise for the immortality of his work. It is undoubtedly the case that foreigners benefit by a degree of remoteness which is favourable to sane judgment. For that matter, as far as Fabre is concerned, the favourable verdict of his peers is surrounded by hardly fewer guarantees of impartiality in France than abroad, for this worthy son of the Rouergue has never been of those who seek to obtain honours by any of the means that achieve success through intrigue or influence, and we may without paradox say that it is farther from his village to Paris than from Paris to London; from obscurity in his village to fame in Paris than from fame in Paris to fame in London and other capitals.

Nevertheless, legitimately acquired and well founded though it might be, Fabre’s great scientific reputation had hardly extended beyond the limits of the academies and the somewhat restricted circle of professional biologists and naturalists, or that of a few[360]amateurs who were better informed than their fellows, or more perspicacious in the choice of their reading.

Was it not just to exhibit, beyond this circle of initiates, achievements that belonged to all and had all the qualities requisite for popularity? Was it not right to draw this great man out of the obscurity in which he had so long shut himself up, and at last to place this distinguished figure on the magnificent pedestal built up by half a century’s work of the highest value, and the greater part of a century of a poor and laborious life? So thought the friends and admirers of the hermit of Sérignan, who organised, last year, the celebration of his jubilee, and, in the Press, cited him in the order of the day.

These celebrations took place in the familiar rustic setting so dear to the aged scientist. It was a morning of April, in the little village of Vaucluse which we need not name, at the edge of the enclosure where for more than forty years he has keptrendezvouswith his insects, on the threshold of the house that shelters his studious retirement. The venerable naturalist was there, surrounded by the members of his beloved family, his constant collaborators, with whose names he[361]loved to sprinkle the pages of his books. To greet him came the worthy folk of Sérignan, justly proud of him, his friends from far and near, and the delegates of the learned societies of France and foreign countries, with whom the representatives of the State, the Sub-prefect of Orange and the Prefect of Avignon, had the good taste to associate themselves.

At the moment when an unexpected ray of sunlight filtered through the clouds like a caress and a benediction from Heaven upon the head of the old scientist, ever faithful to the call of the Power on high, France and Sweden, to mention only the most eager, joined in crowning him with laurels; France offering him a magnificent gold plaque in the name of the Academy of Sciences, and Sweden the Linnæan Medal in the name of the Royal Academy of Stockholm. France—or rather, theAcadémie Française—has since then offered a further evidence of her admiration by granting him the largest of its money prizes and unanimously recommending him to the jury entrusted with the award of the Nobel Prize.

There are seldom fêtes without banquets or banquets without speeches. Among the speeches delivered at Sérignan at the banquet[362]of April 3rd, we must at least mention M. Perrier’s, from which we give an extract on the first page of this book. It may be foundin extensoin theRevue scientifiquefor the 7th of May, 1910. The series of toasts was followed by the reading of numerous telegrams of congratulation, the most loudly applauded of these being that of M. Edmond Rostand, which ran as follows:

Prevented from being in your midst, I am nevertheless in spirit with those who are to-day honouring a man worthy of all admiration, one of the purest glories of France, the great scientist whose work I admire, the profound and racy poet, the Virgil of the insects, who has brought us to our knees in the grass, the hermit whose life is the most wonderful example of wisdom, the noble figure that, under its black felt hat, makes Sérignan the complement of Maillane.

It must be recorded that Maillane had cordially united with Sérignan, and that poetry and science were at one in celebrating the fame of the man who has justly been called the poet of entomology.

Such, in its most salient features, was the festival which consecrated, a little late in the day, one of our purest national glories.

This homage had not the ephemeral character of most jubilees, even scientific ones. It[363]found more than one echo, and had an aftermath throughout the country. We will not insist further upon the eager, enthusiastic interest extended by the public to the new edition of theSouvenirs, and the publication ofLa Vie des InsectesandLes Mœurs des Insectes, which are volumes of selected extracts from theSouvenirs, nor even on the decoration of the Legion of Honour which so justly raised to the rank of officer him who had been a simplechevalierfor forty years.

But we must refer at somewhat greater length to the three proofs of admiration which must have found their way most surely to his heart.

The first, to which we have already alluded, came from the highest literary authority of France, and, we might say, of the world. In his report on the literary prizes awarded by theAcadémie Française, M. Thureau-Dangui devoted the following passage to our friend:

I have reserved to the last the largest of our direct prizes, the Neé prize, awarded to the author of theSouvenirs entomologiques, M. Jean-Henri Fabre. He cannot, at all events, be accused of indiscreet solicitation. In his hermitage at Sérignan, where he has pursued a long life of toil, a life so modest that despite the most wonderful discoveries[364]it was for a long time a life of obscurity, M. Fabre gave not a thought to theAcadémie Française, which is all the better pleased to show that it was thinking of him.M. Fabre has, indeed, too clear a vision and too sane a mind not to perceive the problems of a philosophical order which arise from the wonderful data of his discoveries. At every step, in the mysterious domain of instinct, reason cannot fail to divine, beyond the little kingdom explored by observation, the unfathomable secrets of creation.To all, even to those who believe themselves least interested in matters of natural history, I cannot refrain from saying: “Read these narratives; you will appreciate their charm, their geniality, their simplicity, their life; you will fall in love with this delightful science, which is pursued day after day in the beautiful summer weather, “to the song of the Cicadæ;” this science which is truly Latin, Virgilian at times, which goes hand in hand with poetry, which is so imbued with love that it sometimes seems as though there arose, from these humble entomological souvenirs, a strophe of the canticle of created things.”1

M. Fabre has, indeed, too clear a vision and too sane a mind not to perceive the problems of a philosophical order which arise from the wonderful data of his discoveries. At every step, in the mysterious domain of instinct, reason cannot fail to divine, beyond the little kingdom explored by observation, the unfathomable secrets of creation.

To all, even to those who believe themselves least interested in matters of natural history, I cannot refrain from saying: “Read these narratives; you will appreciate their charm, their geniality, their simplicity, their life; you will fall in love with this delightful science, which is pursued day after day in the beautiful summer weather, “to the song of the Cicadæ;” this science which is truly Latin, Virgilian at times, which goes hand in hand with poetry, which is so imbued with love that it sometimes seems as though there arose, from these humble entomological souvenirs, a strophe of the canticle of created things.”1

A mark of homage, which, indeed, adds nothing to the fame of the celebrated laureate of the Institute and so many other learned Academies, but which deserves mention here because it certainly touched a fibre of the old scientist’s heart which all the rest might have[365]failed to stir, is that which was accorded him by the little Society which gathers about the belfry of Rodez the intellectualéliteof his own country-side.

The records of theSociété des lettres, sciences et arts de l’Aveyroncontain, in the minutes of the session of the 27th October 1910, a communication from the president of the Society which closes with the words:

In order to associate ourselves in some fashion with the unanimous bestowal of honours and eulogy of which this venerable old man is at present the recipient, we propose to accord him the title of honorary member. It is the highest distinction at our disposal, and we think he will accept it with sympathy.

Needless to say that the whole assembly accepted their president’s proposal with enthusiasm and by acclamation. Some time later the famous naturalist wrote to the Society, through his present biographer, a touching letter of thanks, in which he said, among other things, that, coming from his own country, this distinction had been very precious to him. The delicate feeling expressed in these words gives us to hope that the contribution to the work of reparation which we have sought to make will not be without some value in his eyes.[366]

1Session of the 8th December 1910.↑

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