The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



do, if I can have the run of it. But the laboratory 

 is a sanctum reserved for the use of the sixth 

 form. No one sets foot in it except the professor 

 and his pupils preparing for their degree. For me, 

 the outsider, to enter that tabernacle with my band 

 of young imps would be most unseemly ; the right- 

 ful occupant would never think of allowing it. 

 I feel it myself: elementary teaching dare not aspire 

 to such familiarity with the higher culture. Very 

 well, we will not go there, so long as they will 

 lend me the things. 



I confide my plan to the principal, the supreme 

 dispenser of those riches. He is a classics man, 

 knows hardly anything of science — at that time held 

 in no great esteem — and does not quite understand 

 the object of my request. I humbly insist and exert 

 my powers of persuasion. I discreetly emphasise 

 the real point of the matter. My group of pupils 

 is a numerous one. It takes more meals at the 

 schoolhouse — the real concern of a principal — than 

 any other section of the College. This group must 

 be encouraged, lured on, increased if possible. The 

 prospect of disposing of a few more platefuls of 

 soup wins the battle for me; my request is granted. 

 Poor Science! All that diplomacy to gain your 

 entrance among the despised ones, who have not 

 been nourished on Cicero and Demosthenes! 



I am authorised to move, once a week, the ma- 

 terial required for my ambitious plans. From the 

 first floor, the sacred dwelling of the scientific 

 things, I shall take them down to a sort of cellar 

 where I give my lessons. The troublesome part 



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