Not in vain are the insects “the children of summer,” and not in vain has he contemplated them “in the blessed season” under the brilliance and the ardours of noon. “All the sunshine of Provence is reflected by his picturesque style; and it seems as though a miraculous fairyland is unfolded before us, whose scenery is all of the mother-of-pearl, the gold, and the rainbow hues that Nature has spread upon the aerial oars of the Dragon-flies and the Bees, on the cuirass of the Scarabæi, on the blazing fans that the [[256]]Butterflies wave voluptuously, intoxicating themselves with the nectar of the flowers.
“Nothing in all this is far-fetched or deliberate. Henri Fabre has never plumed himself on his literary achievements; it is his real self, it is his whole mind that expresses itself in his Souvenirs; the mind of an ardent and passionately interested but precise observer, a mind open to every emotion,”[3] and sensitive to all the impressions received from all these little lives, that have no secrets from him. This mind and these lives, intimately and sincerely mingled, and ingenuously reflected in the pages of his books; this is the secret of the most vital, the most picturesque, and the least conventional style that can be imagined.
Thus, it is that, aiding his imagination and his sensibility, the insects themselves became the entomologist’s foremost collaborators. Was not this the most graceful way of recognising the services which he has rendered them, and of repaying the love which he has always borne them?
If they have received much, they have also given much; so much, that we may well ask who can have gained the most—they or the entomologist—by this exchange of benefits? [[257]]Were one of their number aware of the merits of their partnership he would doubtless consider that they have contributed to his fame no less than he has magnified theirs.
Conquered himself without reservation by the unexpected beauties of entomology, Fabre was fortunate enough to see a like fascination exerting itself, as a result of his teaching and example, in those about him, his neighbours and his friends, just as it now exerts itself through his books upon all his readers.
When we attempted discreetly to lift the veil of his first retirement from Orange, which seemed to us peculiarly characteristic of his private life, we had occasion to note the eminently domestic nature of his life and work, and the assiduous collaboration in the common task of the first-born of his children. We have seen Antonia, Claire, Jules and Emile[4] rivalling one another in their eagerness to assist in their father’s observations, and this charming devotion outlived the youthful ardour of the early springtide of life.
Sometimes, too, the children anticipate [[258]]their father’s entomological desires. For example, his son Emile sends him from the neighbourhood of Marseilles a nest of resin-working Hymenoptera.[5] His daughter Claire sends him, from another part of Provence, an entomological document of such value that it “reawakened all the enthusiasm of his early years.” It related to one of his favourite insects, another Hymenopteron, the Nest-building Odynerus.
It was the end of February. The weather was mild; the sun was kind. Setting out in a family party, with food for the children, apples, and a piece of a loaf in the basket, we were going to see the almond-trees in flower. When it was time for lunch we halted under the great oak-trees, when Anna, the youngest of the household, always on the look-out for small creatures with her new, six-year-old eyes, called to me, at a few paces’ distance from our party. “An animal,” she said, “two, three, four—and pretty ones! Come and see, papa, come and see!”[6]
This was one of the rarest discoveries: a dozen specimens of the Pearly Trox, which were making a meal off a little rabbit’s down which some fox’s stomach had been unable [[259]]to exploit. “There is every sort of taste in this world, so that nothing shall be wasted!”
And not once or twice, but every moment almost, little Paul,[7] Marie Pauline,[8] and Anna enliven the narrative by their delightful appearances and their inventive activity. Little Paul above all is an auxiliary of the highest value, who deserves to be introduced to the reader as an acknowledged collaborator: