“Do you know when it first saw the light, this electric telegraph, one of the most marvellous applications of modern science? It was in that memorable year, 1822: Oersted, a Danish physicist, held in his hands a piece of copper wire, joined by its extremities to the two poles of a Volta pile. On his table was a magnetized needle on its pivot, and he suddenly saw (by chance you will say, but chance only favours the mind which is prepared) the needle move and take up a position quite different from the one assigned to it by terrestrial magnetism. A wire carrying an electric current deviates a magnetized needle from its position. That, gentlemen, was the birth of the modern telegraph. Franklin’s interlocutor might well have said when the needle moved: ‘But what is the use of that?’ And yet that discovery was barely twenty years old when it produced by its application the almost supernatural effects of the electric telegraph!”
The small theatre where Pasteur gave his chemistry lessons soon became celebrated in the students’ world.
The faults had disappeared with which Pasteur used to reproach himself when he first taught at Dijon and later at Strasburg. He was sure of himself, he was clear in his explanations; the chain of thought, the fitness of words, all was perfect. He made few experiments, but those were decisive. He endeavoured to bring out every observation or comparison they might suggest. The pupil who went away delighted from the class did not suspect the care each of those apparently easy lessons had cost. When Pasteur had carefully prepared all his notes, he used to make a summary of them; he had these summaries bound together afterwards. We may thus sketch the outline of his work; but who will paint the gesture of demonstration, the movement, the grave penetrating voice, the life in short?
After a few months the Minister wrote to M. Guillemin, the rector, that he was much pleased with the success of this Faculty of Sciences at Lille, “which already owes it to the merit of the teaching—solid and brilliant at the same time—of that clever Professor, that it is able to rival the most flourishing Faculties.” The Minister felt he must add some official advice: “But M. Pasteur must guard against being carried away by his love for science, and he must not forget that the teaching of the Faculties, whilst keeping up with scientific theory, should, in order to produce useful and far-reaching results, appropriate to itself the special applications suitable to the real wants of the surrounding country.”
A year after the inauguration of the new Faculty, Pasteur wrote to Chappuis: “Our classes are very well attended; I have 250 to 300 people at my most popular lectures, and we have twenty-one pupils entered for laboratory experiments. I believe that this year, like last year, Lille holds the first rank for that innovation, for I am told that at Lyons there were but eight entries.” It was indeed a success to distance Lyons. “The zeal of all is a pleasure to watch (January, 1856). It reaches that point that four of the professors take the trouble to have their manuscript lessons printed; there are already 120 subscribers for the course of applied mechanics.
“Our building is fortunately completed; it is large and handsome, but will soon become insufficient owing to the progress of practical teaching.
“We are very comfortably settled on the first floor, and I have (on the ground floor immediately below) what I have always wished for, a laboratory where I can go at any time. This week, for instance, the gas remains on, and operations follow their course whilst I am in bed. In this way I try to make up a little of the time which I have to give to the direction of all the rather numerous departments in our Faculties. Add to this that I am a member of two very active societies, and that I have been entrusted, at the suggestion of the Conseil-Général,[24] with the testing of manures for the département of the Nord, a considerable work in this rich agricultural land, but one which I have accepted eagerly, so as to popularize and enlarge the influence of our young Faculty.
“Do not fear lest all this should keep me from the studies I love. I shall not give them up, and I trust that what is already accomplished will grow without my help, with the growth that time gives to everything that has within it the germ of life. Let us all work; that only is enjoyable. I am quoting M. Biot, who certainly is an authority on that subject. You saw the share he took the other day in a great discussion at the Académie des Sciences; his presence of mind, high reasoning powers, and youthfulness were magnificent, and he is eighty-four!”
In a mere study on Pasteur as a scientific man, the way in which he understood his duties as Dean would only be a secondary detail. It is not so here, the very object of this book being to paint what he was in all the circumstances, all the trials of life. Besides his professional obligations, his kindness in leaving his laboratory, however hard the sacrifice, bears witness to an ever present devotion. For instance, he took his pupils round factories and foundries at Aniche, Denain, Valenciennes, St. Omer. In July, 1856, he organized for the same pupils a tour in Belgium. He took them to visit factories, iron foundries, steel and metal works, questioning the foremen with his insatiable curiosity, pleased to induce in his tall students a desire to learn. All returned from these trips with more pleasure in their work; some with the fiery enthusiasm that Pasteur wished to see.
The sentence in his Lille speech, “in the fields of observation, chance only favours the mind which is prepared,” was particularly applicable to him. In the summer of 1856 a Lille manufacturer, M. Bigo, had, like many others that same year, met with great disappointments in the manufacture of beetroot alcohol. He came to the young Dean for advice. The prospect of doing a kindness, of communicating the results of his observations to the numerous hearers who crowded the small theatre of the Faculty, and of closely studying the phenomena of fermentation which preoccupied him to such a degree, caused Pasteur to consent to make some experiments. He spent some time almost daily at the factory. On his return to his laboratory—where he only had a student’s microscope and a most primitive coke-fed stove—he examined the globules in the fermentation juice, he compared filtered with non-filtered beetroot juice, and conceived stimulating hypotheses often to be abandoned in face of a fact in contradiction with them. Above some note made a few days previously, where a suggested hypothesis had not been verified by fact, he would write: “error,” “erroneous,” for he was implacable in his criticism of himself.