Besides those three dead hens, there was a living one which had been inoculated in the same way as the first hen. This one had remained for forty-three hours with one-third of its body immersed in a barrel of water. When it was seen in the laboratory that its temperature had gone down to 36° C., that it was incapable of eating and seemed very ill, it was taken out of the tub that very Saturday morning, and warmed in a stove at 42° C. It was now getting better, though still weak, and gave signs of an excellent appetite before leaving the Academy council chamber.
The third hen, which had been inoculated with ten drops, was dissected then and there. Bouley, after noting a serous infiltration at the inoculation focus, showed to the judges sitting in this room, thus suddenly turned into a testing laboratory, numerous bacteridia scattered throughout every part of the hen.
“After those ascertained results,” wrote Bouley, who drew up the report, “M. Colin declared that it was useless to proceed to the necropsy of the two other hens, that which had just been made leaving no doubt of the presence of bacilli anthracis in the blood of a hen inoculated with charbon and then placed under the conditions designated by M. Pasteur as making inoculation efficacious.
“The hen No. 2 has been given up to M. Colin to be used for any examination or experiment which he might like to try at Alfort.
“Signed: G. Colin, H. Bouley, C. Davaine, L. Pasteur, A. Vulpian.”
“This is a precious autograph, headed as it is by M. Colin’s signature!” gaily said Bouley. But Pasteur, pleased as he was with this conclusion, which put an end to all discussion on that particular point, was already turning his thoughts into another channel. The Academician who had joined the members of the Commission was showing him a number of the Revue Scientifique which had appeared that morning, and which contained an article of much interest to Pasteur.
In October, 1877, Claude Bernard, staying for the last time at St. Julien, near Villefranche, had begun some experiments on fermentations. He had continued them on his return to Paris, alone, in the study which was above his laboratory at the Collège de France.
When Paul Bert, his favourite pupil, M. d’Arsonval, his curator, M. Dastre, a former pupil, and M. Armand Moreau, his friend, came to see him, he said to them in short, enigmatical sentences, with no comment or experimental demonstration, that he had done some good work during the vacation. “Pasteur will have to look out.... Pasteur has only seen one side of the question.... I make alcohol without cells.... There is no life without air....”
Bernard’s and Pasteur’s seats at the Academy of Sciences were next to each other, and they usually enjoyed interchanging ideas. Claude Bernard had come to the November and December sittings, but, with a reticence to which he had not accustomed Pasteur, he had made no allusion to his October experiments. In January, 1878, he became seriously ill; in his conversations with M. d’Arsonval, who was affectionately nursing him, Claude Bernard talked of his next lecture at the Museum, and said that he would discuss his ideas with Pasteur before handling the subject of fermentations. At the end of January M. d’Arsonval alluded to these incomplete revelations. “It is all in my head,” said Claude Bernard, “but I am too tired to explain it to you.” He made the same weary answer two or three days before his death. When he succumbed, on February 10, 1878, Paul Bert, M. d’Arsonval and M. Dastre thought it their duty to ascertain whether their master had left any notes relative to the work which embodied his last thoughts. M. d’Arsonval, after a few days’ search, discovered some notes, carefully hidden in a cabinet in Claude Bernard’s bedroom; they were all dated from the 1st to the 20th of October, 1877; of November and December there was no record. Had he then not continued his experiments during that period? Paul Bert thought that these notes did not represent a work, not even a sketch, but a sort of programme. “It was all condensed into a series of masterly conclusions,” said Paul Bert, “which evidenced certitude, but there were no means of discussing through which channel that certitude had come to his prudent and powerful mind.” What should be done with those notes? Claude Bernard’s three followers decided to publish them. “We must,” said Paul Bert, “while telling the conditions under which the manuscript was found, give it its character of incomplete notes, of confidences made to itself by a great mind seeking its way, and marking its road indiscriminately with facts and with hypotheses in order to arrive at that feeling of certainty which, in the mind of a man of genius, often precedes proof.” M. Berthelot, to whom the manuscript was brought, presented these notes to the readers of the Revue Scientifique. He pointed to their character, too abbreviated to conclude with a rigorous demonstration, but he explained that several friends and pupils of Claude Bernard had “thought that there would be some interest for Science in preserving the trace of the last subjects of thought, however incomplete, of that great mind.”
Pasteur, after the experiment at the Académie de Médecine, hurried back to his laboratory and read with avidity those last notes of Claude Bernard. Were they a precious find, explaining the secrets Claude Bernard had hinted at? “Should I,” said Pasteur, “have to defend my work, this time against that colleague and friend for whom I professed deep admiration, or should I come across unexpected revelations, weakening and discrediting the results I thought I had definitely established?”