“Our only consolation, as we feel our own strength failing us, is to feel that we may help those who come after us to do more and to do better than ourselves, fixing their eyes as they can on the great horizons of which we only had a glimpse.”
He did not long fulfil his new duties. On October 23, Sunday morning, after writing a letter in his room, he tried to speak to Mme. Pasteur and could not pronounce a word; his tongue was paralyzed. He had promised to lunch with his daughter on that day, and, fearing that she might be alarmed, he drove to her house. After spending a few hours in an easy chair, he consented to remain at her house with Mme. Pasteur. In the evening his speech returned, and two days later, when he went back to the Ecole Normale, no one would have noticed any change in him. But, on the following Saturday morning, he had another almost similar attack, without any premonitory symptoms. His speech remained somewhat difficult, and his deep powerful voice completely lost its strength. In January, 1888, he was obliged to resign his secretaryship.
Ill-health had emaciated his features. A portrait of him by Carolus Duran represents him looking ill and weary, a sad look in his eyes. But goodness predominates in those worn features, revealing that lovable soul, full of pity for all human sufferings, and of which the painter has rendered the unspeakable thrill.
Pasteur’s various portraits, compared with one another, show us different aspects of his physiognomy. A luminous profile, painted by Henner ten years before, brings out the powerful harmony of the forehead. In 1886, Bonnat painted, for the brewer Jacobsen, who wished to present it to Mme. Pasteur, a large portrait which may be called an official one. Pasteur is standing in rather an artificial attitude, which might be imperious, if his left hand was not resting on the shoulder of his granddaughter, a child of six, with clear pensive eyes. In that same year, Edelfeldt, the Finnish painter, begged to be allowed to come into the laboratory for a few sketches. Pasteur came and went, attending to his work and taking no notice of the painter. One day that Edelfeldt was watching him thus, deep in observation, his forehead lined with almost painful thoughts, he undertook to portray the savant in his meditative attitude. Pasteur is standing clad in a short brown coat, an experimental card in his left hand, in his right, a phial containing a fragment of rabic marrow, the expression in his eyes entirely concentrated on the scientific problem.
During the year 1888, Pasteur, after spending the morning with his patients, used to go and watch the buildings for the Pasteur Institute which were being erected in the Rue Dutot. 11,000 square yards of ground had been acquired in the midst of some market gardens. Instead of rows of hand-lights and young lettuces, a stone building, with a Louis XIII façade, was now being constructed. An interior gallery connected the main building with the large wings. The Pasteur Institute was to be at the same time a great dispensary for the treatment of hydrophobia, a centre of research on virulent and contagious diseases, and also a teaching centre. M. Duclaux’s class of biological chemistry, held at the Sorbonne, was about to be transferred to the Pasteur Institute, where Dr. Roux would also give a course of lectures on technical microbia. The “service” of vaccinations against anthrax was entrusted to M. Chamberland. (The statistics of 1882—1887 gave a total of 1,600,000 sheep and nearly 200,000 oxen.) There would also be, under M. Metchnikoff’s direction, some private laboratories, the monkish cells of the Pastorians.
At the end of October, the work was almost completed; Pasteur invited the President of the Republic to come and inaugurate the Institute. “I shall certainly not fail to do so,” answered Carnot; “your Institute is a credit to France.”
On November 14, politicians, colleagues, friends, collaborators, pupils assembled in the large library of the new Institute. Pasteur had the pleasure of seeing before him, in the first rank, Duruy and Jules Simon; it was a great day for these former Ministers of Public Instruction. Like them, Pasteur had all his life been deeply interested in higher education. “If that teaching is but for a small number,” he said, “it is with this small number, this élite that the prosperity, glory and supremacy of a nation rest.”
Joseph Bertrand, chairman of the Institute Committee, knowing that by so doing he responded to Pasteur’s dearest wishes, spoke of the past and recalled the memories of Biot, Senarmont, Claude Bernard, Balard, and J. B. Dumas.
Professor Grancher, Secretary of the Committee, alluded to the way in which not only Vulpian but Breuardel, Charcot, Verneuil, Chauveau and Villemin had recently honoured themselves by supporting the cause of progress and preparing its triumph. These memories of early friends, associated with that of recent champions, brought before the audience a vision of the procession of years. After speaking of the obstacles Pasteur had so often encountered amongst the medical world—
“You know,” said M. Grancher, “that M. Pasteur is an innovator, and that his creative imagination, kept in check by rigorous observation of facts, has overturned many errors and built up in their place an entirely new science. His discoveries on ferments, on the generation of the infinitesimally small, on microbes, the cause of contagious diseases, and on the vaccination of those diseases, have been for biological chemistry, for the veterinary art and for medicine, not a regular progress, but a complete revolution. Now, revolutions, even those imposed by scientific demonstration, ever leave behind them vanquished ones who do not easily forgive. M. Pasteur has therefore many adversaries in the world, without counting those Athenian French who do not like to see one man always right or always fortunate. And, as if he had not enough adversaries, M. Pasteur makes himself new ones by the rigorous implacability of his dialectics and the absolute form he sometimes gives to his thought.”