“Where is the government which has secured such a majority?” wrote Pasteur’s old friend Chappuis, now Rector of the Grenoble Academy. The value of the recompense was certainly much enhanced by the fact that the Assembly, divided upon so many subjects, had been almost unanimous in its feeling of gratitude towards him who had laboured so hard for Science, for the country and for Humanity.
“Bravo, my dear Pasteur: I am glad for you and for myself, and proud for us all. Your devoted friend, Sainte Claire Deville.”
“You are going to be a happy scientist,” wrote M. Duclaux, “for you can already see, and you will see more and more, the triumph of your doctrines and of your discoveries.”
Those who imagined that this national recompense was the close of a great chapter, perhaps even the last chapter of the book of his life, gave him, in their well-meaning ignorance, some advice which highly irritated him: they advised him to rest. It is true that his cerebral hæmorrhage had left him with a certain degree of lameness and a slight stiffness of the left hand, those external signs reminding him only too well of the threatening possibility of another stroke; but his mighty soul was more than ever powerful to master his infirm body. It was therefore evident that Nisard, usually very subtle in his insight into character, did not thoroughly understand Pasteur when he wrote to him, “Now, dear friend, you must give up your energies to living for your family, for all those who love you, and a little too for yourself.”
In spite of his deep, even passionate tenderness for his family, Pasteur had other desires than to limit his life to such a narrow circle. Every man who knows he has a mission to fulfil feels that there are rays of a light purer and more exalted than that proceeding from the hearth. As to the suggestion that Pasteur should take care of his own health, it was as useless as it would be to advise certain men to take care of that of others.
Dr. Andral had vainly said and written that he should forbid Pasteur any assiduous labour. Pasteur considered that not to work was to lose the object of living at all. If, however, a certain equilibrium was established between the anxious solicitude of friends, the prohibitions of medical advisers and the great amount of work which Pasteur insisted on doing, it was owing to her who with a discreet activity watched in silence to see that nothing outside his work should complicate Pasteur’s life, herself his most precious collaborator, the confidante of every experiment.
Everything was subordinate to the laboratory; Pasteur never accepted an invitation to those large social gatherings which are a tax laid by those who have nothing to do on the time of those who are busy, especially if they be celebrated. Pasteur’s name, known throughout the world, was never mentioned in fashionable journals; he did not even go to theatres. In the evening, after dinner, he usually perambulated the hall and corridor of his rooms at the Ecole Normale, cogitating over various details of his work. At ten o’clock, he went to bed, and at eight the next morning, whether he had had a good night or a bad one, he resumed his work in the laboratory.
That regular life, preserving its even tenor through so many polemics and discussions, was momentarily perturbed by politics in January, 1876. Pasteur, who, in his extraordinary, almost disconcerting modesty, believed that a medical diploma would have facilitated his scientific revolution, imagined—after the pressing overtures made to him by some of his proud compatriots—that he would be able to serve more usefully the cause of higher education if he were to obtain a seat at the Senate.
He addressed from Paris a letter to the senatorial electors of the department of Jura. “I am not a political man,” he said, “I am bound to no party; not having studied politics I am ignorant of many things, but I do know this, that I love my country and have served her with all my strength.” Like many good citizens, he thought that a renewal of the national grandeur and prosperity might be sought in a serious experimental trial of the Republic. If honoured with the suffrages of his countrymen, he would “represent in the Senate, Science in all its purity, dignity and independence.” Two Jura newspapers, of different opinions, agreed in regretting that Pasteur should leave “the peaceful altitudes of science,” and come down into the Jura to solicit the electors’ suffrages.
In his answers to such articles, letters dictated to his son—who acted as his secretary during that electoral campaign and accompanied him to Lons-le-Saulnier, where they spent a week, published addresses, posters, etc.—Pasteur invoked the following motto, “Science et Patrie.” Why had France been victorious in 1792? “Because Science had given to our fathers the material means of fighting.” And he recalled the names of Monge, of Carnot, of Fourcroy, of Guyton de Morveau, of Berthollet, that concourse of men of science, thanks to whom it had been possible—during that grandiose epoch—to hasten the working of steel and the preparation of leather for soldiers’ boots, and to find means of extracting saltpetre for gunpowder from plaster rubbish, of making use of reconnoitring balloons and of perfecting telegraphy.