But may there not be other factors, as yet unrecognized, that supplement the Lamarckian and Darwinian principles in bringing about this marvellous evolution of beings? That, it would seem, is the most vital question that the philosophical zoology of our generation must hand on to the twentieth century. For today not even Professor Haeckel himself can give it answer.
VII. SOME MEDICAL LABORATORIES AND MEDICAL PROBLEMS
THE PASTEUR INSTITUTE
THE national egotism that characterizes the French mind is not without its compensations. It leads, for example, to the tangible recognition of the merits of the great men of the nation and to the promulgation of their names in many public ways. Thus it would be hard to mention a truly distinguished Frenchman of the older generations whose name has not been given to a street in Paris. Of the men of science thus honored, one recalls off-hand the names of Buffon, Cuvier, Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, Pinel, Esquirol, Lamarck, Laplace, Lavoisier, Arago, Claude Bernard, Broca—indeed, one could readily extend the list to tiresome dimensions. Moreover, it is a list that is periodically increased by the addition of new names, as occasion offers, for the Parisian authorities never hesitate to rechristen a street or a portion of a street, regardless of former associations.
One of the most recent additions to this roll of fame is the name of Pasteur. The boulevard that bears that famous name is situated in a somewhat out-of-the-way corner of the city, though to reach it one has but to traverse the relatively short course of the Avenue de Breteuil from so central a position as the tomb of Napoleon. The Boulevard Pasteur itself is a not long but very spacious thoroughfare, which will some day be very beautiful, when the character of its environing buildings has somewhat changed and its quadruple rows of trees have had time for development. At present its chief distinction, in the eyes of most observers, would probably be found in the fact that it is the location of the famous fête forain at one of the annually recurring stages of the endless itinerary of that noted function. During the period of this distinction, which falls in the month of May, the boulevard becomes transformed into a veritable Coney Island of merry-go-rounds, shooting-galleries, ginger-bread booths, and clap-trap side-shows, to the endless delight of throngs of pleasure-seekers. There is no sight in all Paris worthier inspection for the foreigner than the Boulevard Pasteur offers at this season, for one gains a deep insight into the psychology of a people through observation of the infantile delight with which the adult population here throws itself into the spirit of amusements which with other nations are for the most part reserved for school-children. Only a race either in childhood or senescence, it would seem, could thus give itself over with undisguised delight to the enchantments of wooden horses, cattle, cats, and pigs; to the catching of wooden fish with hooks; to the shooting at targets that one could almost touch with the gun-muzzle, and to the grave observation of sideshow performances that would excite the risibilities of the most unsophisticated audience that could be found in the Mississippi Valley.
As we move among this light-hearted and lightheaded throng we shall scarcely escape a feeling of good-humored contempt for what seems an inferior race. It will be wholesome, therefore, for us to turn aside from the boulevard into the Rue Dotot, which leads from it near its centre, and walk a few hundred yards away from the pleasure-seekers, where an evidence of a quite different and a no less characteristic phase of the national psychology will be before us. For here, within easy sound of the jangling discords of the organs that keep time for the march of the cheveaux de bois, rises up a building that is in a sense the monument of a man who was brother in blood and in sentiment to the revellers we have just left in the boulevard, yet whose career stamped him as one of the greatest men of genius of any race or any time. That man was Louis Pasteur. The building before us is the famous institute that bears his name.
In itself this building is a simple and unimposing structure, yet of pleasing contour. It is as well placed as the surroundings permit, on a grassed terrace, a little back from the street, where a high iron fence guards it and gives it a degree of seclusion. There are other buildings visible in the rear, which, as one learns on entering, are laboratories and the like, where the rabbits and guinea-pigs and dogs that are so essential to the work of the laboratory are kept. On the terrace in front is a bronze statue of a boy struggling with a rabid dog—a reminder of the particular labor of the master-worker which led directly to the foundation of the institution. It will be remembered that it was primarily to give Pasteur a wider opportunity to apply his newly discovered treatment for the prevention of rabies that the subscription was undertaken which led finally to the erection of the buildings before us and brought the Pasteur Institute in its present form into being. Of the other aims and objects of the institution I shall speak more at length in a moment.
I have just said that the building before us is in effect the monument of the great savant. This is true in a somewhat more literal sense than might be supposed, for the body of Pasteur rests in a crypt at its base. The personal labors of the great discoverer were practically ended at the time when the institute was opened in 1888, on which occasion, as will be remembered, the scientific representatives of all nations gathered in Paris to do honor to the greatest Frenchman of his generation. He was spared to the world, however, for seven years more, during which time he fully organized the work of the institution along the lines it has since followed, and was, of course, the animating spirit of all the labors undertaken there by his devoted students and assistants. He is the animating spirit of the institution still, and it is fitting that his body should rest in the worthy mausoleum within the walls of that building whose erection was the tangible culmination of his life labors. The sarcophagus is a shrine within this temple of science which will serve to stimulate generations of workers here to walk worthily in the footsteps of the great founder of the institution. For he must be an unimaginative person indeed who, passing beneath that arch bearing the simple inscription "Ici Repose Pasteur," could descend into the simple but impressive mausoleum and stand beside the massive granite sarcophagus without feeling the same kind of mental uplift which comes from contact with a great and noble personality. The pretentious tomb of Galileo in the nave of Santa Croce at Florence, and the crowded resting-place of Newton and Darwin in Westminster Abbey, have no such impressiveness as this solitary vault where rests the body of Pasteur, isolated in death as the mightier spirits must always be in life.
AIMS AND OBJECTS OF THE PASTEUR INSTITUTE