In this Institute, which Pasteur entered ill and weary, he contemplated with joy those large laboratories, which would enable his pupils to work with ease and to attract around them investigators from all countries. He was happy to think that the material difficulties which had hampered him would be spared those who came after him. He believed in the realization of his wishes for peace, work, mutual help among men. Whatever the obstacles, he was persuaded that science would continue its civilizing progress and that its benefits would spread from domain to domain. Differing from those old men who are ever praising the past, he had an enthusiastic confidence in the future; he foresaw great developments of his studies, some of which were already apparent. His first researches on crystallography and molecular dissymmetry had served as a basis to stereo-chemistry. But, while he followed the studies on that subject of Le Bel and Van t’Hoff, he continued to regret that he had not been able to revert to the studies of his youth, enslaved as he had been by the inflexible logical sequence of his works. “Every time we have had the privilege of hearing Pasteur speak of his early researches,” writes M. Chamberland, in an article in the Revue Scientifique, “we have seen the revival in him of a smouldering fire, and we have thought that his countenance showed a vague regret at having forsaken them. Who can now say what discoveries he might have made in that direction?” “One day,” said Dr. Héricourt—who spent the summer near Villeneuve l’Etang, and who often came into the Park with his two sons—“he favoured me with an admirable, captivating discourse on this subject, the like of which I have never heard.” Pasteur, instead of feeling regret, might have looked back with calm pride on the progress he had made in other directions.{446}
In what obscurity were fermentation and infection enveloped before his time, and with what light he had penetrated them! When he had discovered the all-powerful r?le of the infinitesimally small, he had actually mastered some of those living germs, causes of disease; he had transformed them from destructive to preservative agents. Not only had he renovated medicine and surgery, but hygiene, misunderstood and neglected until then, was benefiting by the experimental method. Light was being thrown on preventive measures.
M. Henri Monod, Director of Hygiene and Public Charities, one day quoted, à propos of sanitary measures, these words of the great English Minister, Disraeli—
“Public health is the foundation upon which rest the happiness of the people and the power of the State. Take the most beautiful kingdom, give it intelligent and laborious citizens, prosperous manufactures, productive agriculture; let arts flourish, let architects cover the land with temples and palaces; in order to defend all these riches, have first-rate weapons, fleets of torpedo boats—if the population remains stationary, if it decreases yearly in vigour and in stature, the nation must perish. And that is why I consider that the first duty of a statesman is the care of Public Health.”
In 1889, when the International Congress of Hygiene met in Paris, M. Brouardel was able to say—
“If echoes from this meeting could reach them ... our ancestors would learn that a revolution, the most formidable for thirty centuries, has shaken medical science to its very foundations, and that it is the work of a stranger to their corporation; and their sons do not cry Anathema, they admire him, bow to his laws.... We all proclaim ourselves disciples of Pasteur.”
On the very day after those words were pronounced, Pasteur saw the realization of one of his most ardent wishes, the inauguration of the new Sorbonne. At the sight of the wonderful facilities for work offered by this palace, he remembered Claude Bernard’s cellar, his own garret at the Ecole Normale, and felt a movement of patriotic pride.
In October, 1889, though his health remained shaken, he insisted on going to Alais, where a statue was being raised to J. B. Dumas. Many of his colleagues tried to dissuade him from this long and fatiguing journey, but he said: “I am alive, I shall go.” At the foot of the statue, he spoke of his{447} master, one of those men who are “the tutelary spirits of a nation.”
The sericicultors, desiring to thank him for the five years he had spent in studying the silkworm disease, offered him an artistic souvenir: a silver heather twig laden with gold cocoons.
Pasteur did not fail to remind them that it was at the request of their fellow citizen that he had studied pébrine. He said, “In the expression of your gratitude, by which I am deeply touched, do not forget that the initiative was due to M. Dumas.”
Thus his character revealed itself on every occasion. Every morning, with a step rendered heavy by age and ill-health, he went from his rooms to the Hydrophobia Clinic, arriving there long before the patients. He superintended the preparation of the vaccinal marrows; no detail escaped him. When the time came for inoculations, he was already informed of each patient’s name, sometimes of his poor circumstances; he had a kind word for every one, often substantial help for the very poor. The children interested him most; whether severely bitten, or frightened at the inoculation, he dried their tears and consoled them. How many children have thus kept a memory of him! “When I see a child,” he used to say, “he inspires me with two feelings: tenderness for what he is now, respect for what he may become hereafter.”
 
Already in May, 1892, Denmark, Sweden, and Norway had formed various Committees of scientists and pupils of Pasteur to celebrate his seventieth birthday. In France, it was in November that the Medical and Surgical Section of the Academy of Sciences constituted a Subscription Committee to offer Pasteur an affectionate homage. Roty, the celebrated engraver, was desired to finish a medal he had already begun, representing Pasteur in profile, a skull cap on his broad forehead, the brow strongly prominent, the whole face full of energy and meditation. His shoulders are covered with the cape he usually wore in the morning in the passages of his Institute. Roty had not time to design a satisfactory reverse side; he surrounded with laurels and roses the following inscription: “To Pasteur, on his seventieth birthday. France and Humanity grateful.”
On the morning of December 27, 1892, the great theatre of the Sorbonne was filled. The seats of honour held the French{448} and foreign delegates from Scientific Societies, the members of the Institute, and the Professors of Faculties. In the amphitheatre were the deputations from the Ecoles Normale, Polytechnique, Centrale, of Pharmacy, Vétérinaires, and of Agriculture—deep masses of students. People pointed out to each other Pasteur’s pupils, Messrs. Duclaux, Roux, Chamberland, Metchnikoff, in their places; M. Perdrix, a former Normalien, now an Agrégé-préparateur; M. Edouard Calmette, a former student of the Ecole Centrale, who had taken part in the studies on beer; and M. Denys Cochin, who, thirteen years before, had studied alcoholic fermentation in the laboratory of the Rue d’Ulm. The first gallery was full of those who had subscribed towards the presentation about to be made to Pasteur. In the second gallery, boys from lycées crowned the immense assembly with a youthful garland.
At half past 10 o’clock, whilst the band of the Republican Guard played a triumphal march, Pasteur entered, leaning on the arm of the President of the Republic. Carnot led him to a little table, whereon the addresses from the various delegates were to be laid. The Presidents of the Senate and of the Chamber, the Ministers and Ambassadors, took their seats on the platform. Behind the President of the Republic stood, in their uniform, the official delegates of the five Academies which form the Institut de France. The Academy of Medicine and the great Scientific Societies were represented by their presidents and life-secretaries.
M. Charles Dupuy, Minister of Public Instruction, rose to speak, and said, after retracing Pasteur’s great works—
“Who can now say how much human life owes to you and how much more it will owe to you in the future! The day will come when another Lucretius will sing, in a new poem on Nature, the immortal Master whose genius engendered such benefits.
“He will not describe him as a solitary, unfeeling man, like the hero of the Latin poet; but he will show him mingling with the life of his time, with the joys and trials of his country, dividing his life between the stern enjoyment of scientific research and the sweet communion of family intercourse; going from the laboratory to his hearth, finding in his dear ones, particularly in the helpmeet who has understood him so well and loved him all the better for it, that comforting encouragement of every hour and each moment, without which{449} so many struggles might have exhausted his ardour, arrested his perseverance, and enervated his genius....
“May France keep you for many more years, and show you to the world as the worthy object of her love, of her gratitude and pride.”
The President of the Academy of Sciences, M. d’Abbadie, was chosen to present to Pasteur the commemorative medal of this great day.
Joseph Bertrand said that the same science, wide, accurate, and solid, had been a foundation to all Pasteur’s works, each of them shining “with such a dazzling light, that, in looking at either, one is inclined to think that it eclipses all others.”
After a few words from M. Daubrée, senior member of the Mineralogical Section and formerly a colleague of Pasteur’s at the Strasburg Faculty, the great Lister, who represented the Royal Societies of London and Edinburgh, brought to Pasteur the homage of medicine and surgery. “You have,” said he, “raised the veil which for centuries had covered infectious diseases; you have discovered and demonstrated their microbian nature.”
When Pasteur rose to embrace Lister, the sight of those two men gave the impression of a brotherhood of science labouring to diminish the sorrows of humanity.
After a speech from M. Bergeron, Life-Secretary of the Academy of Medicine, and another from M. Sauton, President of the Paris Municipal Council, the various delegates presented the addresses they had brought. Each of the large cities of Europe had its representative. The national delegates were called in their turn. A student from the Alfort Veterinary School brought a medal offered by the united Veterinary Schools of France. Amongst other offerings, Pasteur was given an album containing the signatures of the inhabitants of Arbois, and another coming from D?le, in which were reproduced a facsimile of his birth-certificate and a photograph of the house in which he was born. The sight of his father’s signature at the end of the certificate moved him more than anything else.
The Paris Faculty of Medicine was represented by its Dean, Professor Brouardel. “More fortunate than Harvey and than Jenner,” he said, “you have been able to see the triumph of your doctrines, and what a triumph!...”
The last word of homage was pronounced by M. Devise,{450} President of the Students’ Association, who said to Pasteur, “You have been very great and very good; you have given a beautiful example to students.”
Pasteur’s voice, made weaken than usual by his emotion, could not have been heard all over the large theatre; his thanks were read out by his son—
“Monsieur le Président de la République, your presence transforms an intimate fête into a great ceremony, and makes of the simple birthday of a savant a special date for French science.
“M. le Ministre, Gentlemen—In the midst of all this magnificence, my first thought takes me back to the melancholy memory of so many men of science who have known but trials. In the past, they had to struggle, against the prejudices which hampered their ideas. After those prejudices were vanquished, they encountered obstacles and difficulties of all kinds.
“Very few years ago, before the public authorities and the town councils had endowed science with splendid dwellings, a man whom I loved and admired, Claude Bernard, had, for a laboratory, a wretched cellar not far from here, low and damp. Perhaps it was there that he contracted the disease of which he died. When I heard what you were preparing for me here, the thought of him arose in my mind; I hail his great memory.
“Gentlemen, by an ingenious and delicate thought, you seem to make the whole of my life pass before my eyes. One of my Jura compatriots, the Mayor of D?le, has brought me a photograph of the very humble home where my father and mother lived such a hard life. The presence of the students of the Ecole Normale brings back to me the glamour of my first scientific enthusiasms. The representatives of the Lille Faculty evoke memories of my first studies on crystallography and fermentation, which opened to me a new world. What hopes seized upon me when I realized that there must be laws behind so many obscure phenomena! You, my dear colleagues, have witnessed by what series of deductions it was given to me, a disciple of the experimental method, to reach physiological studies. If I have sometimes disturbed the calm of our Academies by somewhat violent discussions, it was because I was passionately defending truth.
“And you, delegates from foreign nations, who have come from so far to give to France a proof of sympathy, you bring{451} me the deepest joy that can be felt by a man whose invincible belief is that Science and Peace will triumph over Ignorance and War, that nations will unite, not to destroy, but to build, and that the future will belong to those who will have done most for suffering humanity. I appeal to you, my dear Lister, and to you all, illustrious representatives of medicine and surgery.
“Young men, have confidence in those powerful and safe methods, of which we do not yet know all the secrets. And, whatever your career may be, do not let yourselves become tainted by a deprecating and barren scepticism, do not let yourselves be discouraged by the sadness of certain hours which pass over nations. Live in the serene peace of laboratories and libraries. Say to yourselves first: ‘What have I done for my instruction?’ and, as you gradually advance, ‘What have I done for my country?’ until the time comes when you may have the immense happiness of thinking that you have contributed in some way to the progress and to the good of humanity. But, whether our efforts are or not favoured by life, let us be able to say, when we come near the great goal, ‘I have done what I could.’
“Gentlemen, I would express to you my deep emotion and hearty gratitude. In the same way as Roty, the great artist, has, on the back of this medal, hidden under roses the heavy number of years which weigh on my life, you have, my dear colleagues, given to my old age the most delightful sight of all this living and loving youth.”
The shouts “Vive Pasteur!” resounded throughout the building. The President of the Republic rose, went towards Pasteur to congratulate him, and embraced him with effusion.
 
Hearts went out to Pasteur even from distant countries. The Canadian Government, acting on the suggestion of the deputies of the province of Quebec, gave the name of Pasteur to a district on the borders of the state of Maine.
A few weeks after the fête, the Governor-General of Algeria, M. Cambon, wrote to Pasteur as follows—
“Sir—Desirous of showing to you the special gratitude which Algeria bears you for the immense services you have rendered to science and to humanity by your great and fruitful discoveries, I have decided that your name should be given to the village of Sériana, situated in the arrondissement of Batna,{452} department of Constantine. I am happy that I have been able to render this slight homage to your illustrious person.” “I feel a deep emotion,” replied Pasteur, “in thinking that, thanks to you, my name will remain attached to that corner of the world. When a child of this village asks what was the origin of this denomination, I should like the schoolmaster to tell him simply that it is the name of a Frenchman who loved France very much, and who, by serving her, contributed to the good of humanity. My heart is thrilled at the thought that my name might one day awaken the first feelings of patriotism in a child’s soul. I shall owe to you this great joy in my old age; I thank you more than I can say.” The origin of Sériana is very ancient. M. Stéphane Gsell relates that this village was occupied long before the coming of the Romans, by a tribe which became Christian, as is seen by ruins of chapels and basilicas. It is situated on the slope of a mountain covered with oaks and cedars, and giving rise to springs of fresh water. A bust of Pasteur was soon after erected in this village, at the request of the inhabitants.
Enthusiasm for Pasteur was spreading everywhere. Women understood that science was entering their domain, since it served charity. They gave magnificent gifts; clauses in wills bore these words: “To Pasteur, to help in his humanitarian task.” In November, 1893, Pasteur saw an unknown lady enter his study in the Rue Dutot, and heard her speak thus: “There must be some students who love science and who, having to earn their living, cannot give themselves up to disinterested work. I should like to place at your disposal four scholarships, for four young men chosen by you. Each scholarship would be of 3,000 fr.; 2,400 for the men themselves, and 600 fr. for the expenses they would incur in your laboratories. Their lives would be rendered easier. You could find amongst them, either an immediate collaborator for your Institute or a missionary whom you might send far away; and if a medical career tempted them, they would be enabled by their momentary independence to prepare themselves all the better for their profession. I only ask one thing, which is that my name should not be mentioned.”
Pasteur was infinitely touched by the scheme of this mysterious lady. The scholarship foundation was for one year only, but other years were about to follow and to resemble this one.{453}
Many letters brought to Pasteur requested that he should study or order the study of such and such a disease. Some of these letters responded to preoccupations which had long been in the mind of Pasteur and his disciples. One day he received these lines:
“You have done all the good a man could do on earth. If you will, you can surely find a remedy for the horrible disease called diphtheria. Our children, to whom we teach your name as that of a great benefactor, will owe their lives to you.—A Mother.”
 
Pasteur, in spite of his failing strength, had hopes that he would yet live to see the defeat of the foe so dreaded by mothers. In the laboratory of the Pasteur Institute, Dr. Roux and Dr. Yersin were obstinately pursuing the study of this disease. In their first paper on the subject, modestly entitled A Contribution to the Study of Diphtheria, they said: “Ever since Bretonneau, diphtheria has been looked upon as a specific and contagious disease; its study has therefore been undertaken of late years with the help of the microbian methods which have already been the means of finding the cause of many other infectious diseases.”
In spite of the convictions of Bretonneau, who had, in 1818, witnessed a violent epidemic of croup in the centre of France, his view was far from being generally adopted. Velpeau, then a young student, wrote to him in 1820 that all the members, save two, of the Faculty of Medicine were agreed in opposing or blaming his opinions. Another brilliant pupil of Bretonneau’s, Dr. Trousseau, who never ceased to correspond with his old master, wrote to him in 1854: “It remains to be proved that diphtheria always comes from a germ. I hardly doubt this with regard to small-pox; to be consistent, I ought not to doubt it either with regard to diphtheria. I was thinking so this morning, as I was performing tracheotomy on a poor child twenty-eight months old; opposite the bed, there was a picture of his five-year-old brother, painted on his death-bed. He had succumbed five years ago, to malignant angina.”
Knowing Bretonneau’s ideas on contagion, Trousseau wrote further down: “I shall have the beds and bedding burnt, the paper hangings also, for they have a velvety and attractive{454} surface; I shall tell the mother to purify herself like a Hindoo—else what would you say to me!”
A German of the name of Klebs discovered the bacillus of diphtheria in 1883, by studying the characteristic membranes; it was afterwards isolated by Loeffler, another German.
Pure cultures of this bacillus, injected on the surface of the excoriated fauces of rabbits, guinea-pigs, and pigeons, produce the diphtheritic membranes: Messrs. Roux and Yersin demonstrated this fact and ascertained the method of its deadly action.
Dr. Roux, in a lecture to the London Royal Society, in 1889, said: “Microbes are chiefly dangerous on account of the toxic matters which they produce.” He recalled that Pasteur had been the first to investigate the action of the toxic products elaborated by the microbe of chicken-cholera. By filtering the culture, Pasteur had obtained a liquid which contained no microbes. Hens inoculated with this liquid presented all the symptoms of cholera. “This experiment shows us,” continued M. Roux, “that the chemical products contained in the culture are capable by themselves of provoking the symptoms of the disease; it is therefore very probable that the same products are prepared within the body itself of a hen attacked with cholera. It has been shown since then that many pathogenic microbes manufactured these toxic products. The microbes of typhoid fever, of cholera, of blue pus, of acute experimental septic?mia, of diphtheria, are great poison-producers. The cultures of the diphtheria bacillus particularly are, after a certain time, so full of the toxin that, without microbes, and in infinitesimal doses, they cause the death of the animals with all the signs observed after inoculation with the microbe itself. The picture of the disease is complete, even presenting the ensuing paralysis if the injected dose is too weak to bring about a rapid death. Death in infectious diseases is therefore caused by intoxication.”
This bacillus, like that of tetanus, secretes a poison which reaches the kidneys, attacks the nervous system, and acts on the heart, the beats of which are accelerated or suddenly arrested. Sheltered in the membrane like a foe in an ambush, the microbe manufactures its deadly poison. Diphtheria, as defined by M. Roux, is an intoxication caused by a very active poison formed by the microbe within the restricted area wherein it develops.{455}
It was sufficient to examine a portion of diphtheritic membrane to distinguish the diphtheritic ............