In the familiar intimacy of this family celebration he told me, as a piece of good news: “It is possible that I shall soon receive a visit from Monseigneur the Archbishop of Avignon.” He said this with a marked satisfaction which was very unlike his usual detachment.
I understood at once that his mind was harking back to the evil days of 1870 and contrasting them with the present. What did not happen in that disastrous year? Victor Duruy had just instituted courses of lectures for adults in order to make up for the deficiencies of popular education. Young girls were especially invited to these lectures. On the pretext of opening the golden doors of science to them it was hoped—no mystery has been made of the matter since—to emancipate them from the tutelage of the [[371]]clergy,[5] to remove them from, or to dispute, the influence of the Church. The scientist, enamoured of the beauty of natural history, saw in this venture merely an opportunity for diffusing the knowledge and appreciation of his science among the people. Accordingly he opened a course of evening lectures in the old Abbey of Saint-Martial. And in the crowd that flocked eagerly to hear him beneath the vaulted roof of the old disaffected church were squads of young girls, more numerous at every lecture, enchanted by the magic of his teaching, by its lucidity and vitality. Who could object to such a success? Yet there were those who objected. A perfect cross-fire of criticism and complaint arose from the Church and the University. Fabre replied fearlessly, not without a touch of offended pride. The quarrel became embittered. Some went so far as to denounce him publicly and to point out, from the vantage of the pulpit, the dangers of his teaching. Shortly afterwards the municipality dismissed him from his office as conservator of the Musée Requien, without regard to his family responsibilities, which were then considerable.
When he visited Fabre in 1914 Monseigneur [[372]]Latty was fully aware of these proceedings, and of the exodus which followed them, and also of the painful impression which it had produced upon Fabre, and the bitter-sweet reflections to which it still at times gave rise. Did the eminent prelate approach the illustrious old scientist bearing an olive branch as well as the golden laurel? I do not know; but the fact is that this first interview was quickly followed by a second, which was still more friendly, and from that moment Fabre never again spoke of and did not seem even to remember the privations of the past.
One reflection naturally occurs to us here, and it is rather an attempt to be just than a plea pro domo. Because once in his life the great naturalist was confronted by the hostility of certain persons belonging to the world of religion, need we erase from his carefully secularised history all that connects him with the Church, from the motherly caresses of the “holy woman” who assuaged his first griefs to the tender care of the worthy Sister who consoled his last sufferings? Must we forget that he was admitted as pupil-teacher to the lycée at Rodez, as pupil to the seminary of Toulouse and the Normal College of Avignon on the recommendation of M. l’Abbé d’Aiguillon-Pujol, [[373]]his old Rodez headmaster? Are we to say nothing of his articles in the Revue scientifique of Brussels, one of the principal organs of Catholic science, or of his very important contributions to the classic series published under the editorship of M. l’Abbé Combes? If we are, rightly, deeply interested in the smallest details of his life and all that concerns him, are we to say nothing of his friendly relations with his curé[6] or of the religious practices of his family and household, or of his generous participation in all the works of charity in his parish, not excepting the free school?
“Neither of Armagnac nor a Burgundian”; neither secular nor clerical. The truth is that if we consider the matter candidly, without bandaging our eyes and without exclusive prejudice, Fabre should serve as a bond of union rather than a bone of contention.
The ex-Director of the Beaux-Arts, Henry Roujon, who was a fervent apostle of national concord, used to say: “Statutes are only lastingly beautiful if the sons of the same mother can inaugurate them without railing at one another.”
Fabre, according to this maxim, might well [[374]]have statues erected to him. And speaking of statues, we must not, having mentioned the orators, forget the artists. All the illustrated periodicals had already popularised the original, eloquent physiognomy of our hero. This was too ephemeral a homage for his admirers. His features must be chiselled in marble and exposed under the blue sky to the delighted and affectionate eyes of his compatriots. Provence was the first to propose the idea. Le Rouergue followed. Avignon, Orange, and Sérignan each wanted their monument. Saint-Léons profited by its right of seniority to take precedence of Rodez and Maillane.
“Nous voulions te fêter vivant
Doux patriarche et grand savant,
Et fier amant de la nature,