fabre, poet of science-第38部分
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Europe; but his fame had not passed the walls of these academies and the
narrow boundaries of the little world of professional biologists and
philosophers。
Even in these circles; where he was almost exclusively read and
appreciated; he was little known; and although he was much admired;
although he was readily given credit for his admirable talent and
exceptional knowledge; his readers were far from realizing the real powers
of this world of life which he has called into being。 His books are of
those whose fertilizing virtues remain long hidden; to shine only at a
distance; when much frothy writing; that has made a sudden noise in its
time; has fallen into oblivion。
Every two or three years; after much fond polishing; he would open the door
to yet another volume which was ready to go forth; adding astonishing
chapters of the history of insects; wonderful fragments of animal
psychology; but always obtaining only the same circumscribed success; that
is; exciting no public curiosity; and remaining unperceived in the midst of
general indifference。
His books interested only a select class; who; it is true; welcomed them
eagerly; and read them with wonder and delight。 If they excited the
curiosity of a few philosophers; of scientists and inquirers; and here and
there determined a vocation; still more; perhaps; did they charm writers
and poets; they consoled Rostand at the end of a serious illness; their
virtue; in some sort healing; procuring him both moral repose and a
delightful relaxation。 (16/13。) For all these; we may say; he has been one
of those ten or twelve authors whom one would wish to take with one into a
long exile; were they reduced to choosing no more before leaving
civilization for ever。
Yet we must admit that this work has certain undeniable faults。 The title;
in the first place; has nothing alluring about it; and is calculated to
deter rather than to attract purchasers; by evoking vague ideas of
repulsive studies; too arduous or too special。
People have no idea of the wonderful fairyland concealed by this unpopular
title; no conception that these records are intended; not merely for the
scientist pure and simple; but in reality for every one。
Moreover; the first few volumes were in no way seductive。 They boasted not
the most elementary drawings to help the reader; not the slightest woodcut
to give a direct idea of the insects described; of their shape; aspect; or
physiognomy; and a simple sketch; however poor; is often worth more than
long and laborious descriptions。 The first volumes especially; printed
economically; at the least possible expense; were not outwardly attractive。
It is also true that he had never founded any great hopes on the sale of
such works。
Very few people are really interested in the lower animals; and Fabre has
been reproached with wasting his time over 〃childish histories; unworthy of
serious attention and unlikely to make money;〃 of wasting in frivolous
occupations the time which is passing so quickly and can never return。 And
why should he have still further wasted so many precious hours in executing
minute drawings whose reproduction would have involved an expenditure which
his publisher would not dare to venture upon; and which he himself could
not afford?
For this universal inquirer was well fitted for such a task; and all these
creatures which he had depicted he is capable of representing with brush
and pencil as faithfully as with his pen。 He had it in him to be not only a
writer; but an excellent draughtsman; and even a great painter。 He has
reproduced in water…colour; with loving care; the decorations of the
specimens of prehistoric pottery which his excavations have revealed; and
which he has endeavoured to reconstruct; with all the science of an
archaeologist。 He has displayed the same skill in water…colour in that
astonishing iconography; in which he has detailed; with marvellous
accuracy; all the peculiarities of the mycological flora of the olive…
growing districts。 (16/14。)
As for those 〃paltry figures〃 insufficient or flagrantly incorrect in
drawing; with which many people are satisfied; he regards them as
〃intolerable〃 in his own books; and as absolutely contradicting the
rigorous accuracy of his text。 (16/15。)
Of late years photography and the skill of his son Paul have supplied this
deficiency。 He taught his son to fix the insects on the sensitive plate in
their true attitudes; in the reality of their most instantaneous gestures。
However valuable such documents may be; how much we should prefer fine
drawings; giving relief not only to forms and colours; but also to the most
characteristic features and the whole living physiognomy of the creature!
This is the function of art; but the great artist that was in Fabre was
capable in this domain of rivalling the magical talent of an Audubon。
Such work was relinquished; although so many romances of nature; so much
dishonest patch…work; won the applause due to success。
Fabre fell more and more into a state bordering on indigence; and finally
he was quite forgotten。 An opponent of evolution; he was out of the
fashion。 The encyclopaedias barely mentioned him。 Lamarckians and
Darwinians; who still made so much noise in the world; ignored him; and no
one came now to open the gate behind which was ageing; in obscurity and
deserted; 〃one of the loftiest and purest geniuses which the civilized
world at that moment possessed; one of the most learned naturalists and one
of the most marvellous of poets in the modern and truly legitimate sense of
the word。〃 (16/16。)
In the department of Vaucluse; where he lived for more than sixty years; in
Avignon itself; where he had taught for twenty years; the prefect Belleudy;
who had succeeded in approaching him; was astonished and distressed to find
〃so great a mind so little known〃; for even those about him scarcely knew
his name。 (16/17。)
But what matter! The hermit of Sérignan was not discouraged; he was
disturbed only by the failure of his strength; and the fear that he could
not much longer exercise that divine faculty which had always consoled him
for all his sorrows and his disappointments。 He could scarcely drag his
weary limbs across the pebbles of his Harmas; but he bore his eighty…seven
years with a fine disdain for age and its failings; and although the fire
of his glance and that whole; eager countenance still expressed his passion
for the truth; his abrupt gestures; touched with irony; his simple bearing;
and the extreme modesty of his whole person; spoke sufficiently of his
profound indifference toward outside contingencies; for the baubles of fame
and all the stupidities of life。
At a few miles' distance; in another village; that other great peasant;
Mistral; the singer of Provence; the poet of love and joy; the minstrel of
rustic labour and antique faiths; was pursuing; amid the homage of his
apotheosis; the incredible cycle of his splendid existence。
This glory had come to him suddenly; this fame 〃whose first glances are
sweeter than the fires of dawn;〃 and which was never to desert him for
fifty long years。
The wind of favour which had sweetened his youth continued to propel him in
full sail。 He had only to show himself to be at once surrounded;
felicitated; worshipped; and his mere presence would sway a crowd as the
black peaks of the high cypresses are swayed by the great wind that bears
his name。 Like Fabre; he had remained faithful to his native soil; that
soil which the great naturalist had never been able to leave without at
once longing impatiently to return to its dusty olives where the cigale
sings; its ilex trees and its thickets; and so he lived far from the
cities; in a quiet village; with the same horizon of plains and hills that
were balmy with thyme; leading in his little home an equal life full of
wisdom and simplicity。
The hermit of Sérignan was the Lucretius of this Provence; which had
already found its Virgil。 With a very different vision; each had the same
rustic tastes; the same love of the free spaces of wild nature and the
scenes of rural life。 But Mistral; wherever he looked; saw human life as
happy and simple; through the prism of his creative imagination and the
optimism of his happy life。 Fabre; on the contrary; behind the sombre
realities which he studied; saw only the ferocious engagement of confused
living forces; and a frightful tragedy。
Thus their two lives; which were like parallel lines; never meeting; were
in keeping with their work。 And while Mistral; still young and triumphant
despite the years; was at Maillane overwhelmed with honours and
consideration; the poor great man of Sérignan lived an obscure and
inglorious existence。
He had the greatest trouble to live and rear his family; and almost his
sole income consisted of an uncertain sum of 120 pounds sterling annually;
which he had for some years received; in the guise of a pension; by the
generosity of the Institute; as the Gegner prize。
Finally his situation was so precarious that he decided to sell to a museum
that magnificent collection of water…colour plates in which he had
represented; life…size and with an astonishing truth of colour; all the
fungi which grow in Provence。
He wrote to Mistral on the subject; after the visit which the latter paid
him in the spring of 1908: the only visit of the kind。 Before meeting in
Saint…Estelle; the Paradise of the Félibres; they had wished not to die
before at least meeting on this earth。
Fabre wrote to mistral the following letter; which I owe to the kindness of
the great poet:
〃I have never thought of profiting by my humble fungoid water…
colours。。。Fate will perhaps decide otherwise。
〃In this connection; permit me to make a confession; to which your nobility
of character encourages me。 Until latterly I had lived modestly