These conditions put the haricot out of the question: it is a chilly plant, which would not withstand the slightest frost. The winter would be fatal to it, even in the climate of the south of Italy. On the other hand, the pea, the broad bean, the everlasting pea and others, better able to resist the cold because of their country of origin, have nothing to fear from an autumn sowing and thrive during the winter, provided that the climate be fairly mild. [[221]]
What then does the phaselus of the Georgics stand for, that problematical bean which has handed down its name to the haricot in the Latin languages? Remembering the contemptuous epithet vilis with which the poet stigmatizes it, I feel inclined to look upon it as the chickling vetch, the coarse square pea, the jaisso despised by the Provençal peasant.
The problem of the haricot had reached this stage, almost elucidated by the insect’s evidence alone, when an unexpected document came and gave me the last word of the riddle. It is once more a poet—and a very famous poet—M. José Maria de Heredia,[5] who comes to the naturalist’s aid. Without suspecting the service which he is rendering me, the village schoolmaster lends me a magazine[6] in which I read the following conversation between the masterly chaser of sonnets and a lady journalist who asks him which of his works he prefers:
‘ “What would you have me say?” asks the poet. “You place me in a great difficulty.… I do not know which sonnet I like best: they all cost me terrible pains to write.… Which do you yourself prefer?”
‘ “How can I possibly make a choice, my dear master, out of so many jewels, each of which is [[222]]perfectly beautiful? You flash pearls, emeralds and rubies before my astonished eyes; how can I decide to prefer the emerald to the pearl? The whole necklace throws me into an ecstasy of admiration.”
‘ “Well, as for me, there is something of which I am prouder than of all my sonnets, something which has done more than my verses to establish my fame.”
‘I open my eyes wide:
‘ “What is that?” I ask.
‘The master gives me a mischievous glance; then, with that fine light in his eyes which fires his youthful features, he exclaims, triumphantly:
‘ “I have discovered the etymology of the word haricot.”