J. Henri Fabre, the French entomologist, tells of the beginning of his love of insects as a nineteen year old teacher:
The magnificent Bee herself, with her dark-violet wings and
black-velvet raiment, her rustic edifices on the sun-blistered pebbles amid the
thyme, her honey, providing a diversion from the severities of the compass and
the square, all made a great impression on my mind; and I wanted to know more
than I had learnt from the schoolboys, which was just how to rob the cells of
their honey with a straw. As it happened, my bookseller had a gorgeous work on
insects for sale. It was called "Histoire naturelle des animaux
articules", and boasted a multitude of most attractive illustrations; but
the price of it, the price of it! No matter: was not my splendid income
supposed to cover everything, food for the mind as well as food for the body?
Anything extra that I gave to the one I could save upon the other; a method of
balancing painfully familiar to those who look to science for their livelihood.
The purchase was effected. That day my professional emoluments were severely
strained: I devoted a month's salary to the acquisition of the book. I had to
resort to miracles of economy for some time to come before making up the
enormous deficit.
The book was devoured; there
is no other word for it. In it, I learnt the name of my black Bee; I read for
the first time various details of the habits of insects; I found, surrounded in
my eyes with a sort of halo, the revered names of Reaumur, Huber, and Leon
Dufour ; and, while I turned over the pages for the hundredth time, a voice
within me seemed to whisper:
'You also shall be of their
company!'
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