28 September: Boreham on Louis Pasteur

An Architect of Civilisation
The name of Louis Pasteur, who died on September 28, 1895, must stand inscribed for all time on the scroll of humanity's greatest benefactors. His story is worth recalling. In the narrowest room of a small cottage in the Rue des Tanneurs at Dole, Pasteur was born amidst the Christmas-time revelries of 1822. It was a dingy little place opposite a tannery, but the great scientist was never tired of acknowledging his obligations to the years that he spent there.

The readiness of poor parents to forgo any slender comforts that they might have secured for themselves in order that they might fit their offspring for a loftier position in life than they themselves occupied is one of the most admirable and charming traits in human history; and it has never been more strikingly exemplified than in that modest tenement at Dole. The boy who was destined to bless the world with his discoveries left home when he was still a child, but the letters that passed between him and his parents represent an illuminating comment on the kind of life that must have been lived within those narrow walls. As long as the father's meagre store of knowledge gave him the advantage over his son, he spared no pains to teach him all that he knew; and, the moment that the boy's scholarship outdistanced his own, the elder Pasteur was eager to learn all that his boy could teach him. When, in 1882, and again in 1892, the French nation heaped its honours upon him, Pasteur insisted that the commemorations should be held in the squalid little street in which he was born; and, when his praises were sung by the lordliest and most learned in the land, he repudiated the glory and insisted on ascribing it to the memory of his parents.

Victory of the Microscope over the Telescope
Pasteur's authority is world-wide. It is no exaggeration to say that, on all the five continents of the world, commerce and industry are producing choicer and better materials today than would have been possible but for the work of Pasteur. Flocks and herds are healthier and finer; our foods and drinks are more palatable and nutritious; our clothing is more decorative and more enduring; our homes are more hygienic and more comfortable; and all the conditions of work and play are infinitely more congenial and more enjoyable because of his influence. Mr. G. K. Chesterton once affirmed that the history of the world may be divided into two parts. There is the Era of the Telescope and there is the Era of the Microscope. The telescope had its day and it was a great day, but in the nature of things, it came to an end. The number of immensities is strictly limited For the adventurers of the future there are no more poles to be discovered. It was some vague recognition of this stern fact that led to the inauguration of the second era, the Era of the Microscope.

Men suddenly realised that there is such a thing as the infinitude of the infinitesimal. The realm that we have come to know as the realm of germs, the realm of microbes, the realm of bacteria, burst upon the imaginations of men; and it was Louis Pasteur who blazed the trail that opened up that amazing area of expanding wonder. He stands as a pioneer. The pathfinders who had returned from the forests and jungles of the newly-opened continents had thrilling stories to tell of adventures with lions, tigers, wolves, and bears. But Pasteur realised that, whilst lions and tigers may count their victims by the score, the tiny creatures to which he was devoting his attention were compassing the slaughter of millions. He was horrified at the discovery that disease was frequently spread by those who were seeking most assiduously to cure it.

Transition from the Practical to the Sentimental
Whilst Pasteur was revolutionising medical thought in France, Lister in England was working along parallel lines; and it is characteristic of the golden traditions of the profession that each rejoiced unfeignedly in the splendid and invaluable triumphs of the other. Pasteur was nothing if not practical. In his 33rd year he was made professor and dean of the new Faculty of Science at Lille. He at once interested himself in the problems connected with the processes of fermentation in the local distilleries. He then applied himself to a study of the epidemic among silkworms that threatened the very existence of a great textile industry. Nothing that affected the prosperity or happiness of his fellowmen was beneath his notice. A little later, when sorrows began to multiply around him, his work entered upon a fresh phase. His father, mother, and several of his children had died. Impressed by these painful bereavements, he thought of the losses so common among his neighbours, and wondered if it would not be possible to lessen the griefs of the world. "It would be a grand thing," he exclaimed, "to give the heart its share in the progress of science." And from that moment he devoted himself to the work that has made his name immortal. "We are watching," said Dr. Sedillot, "the conception and birth of a new surgery which will be one of the greatest wonders of all time." And so it proved.

The story of Pasteur's old age reads like a page from a beautiful poem. Living at his institute, he slept in a tent under the flowering chestnut trees in the grounds, his admiring students waiting upon him night and day. On sunny afternoons he strolled to a shady group of pines and purple beeches amidst whose quiet seclusion his wife and daughters read to him. Princes and emperors who, in other days, had personally thanked him for the benefits that he had conferred upon their peoples, sent earnest inquiries after his health. And then, on a perfect Saturday afternoon he passed serenely away, having earned the benedictions of men of all classes, of all nationalities and of all times.

F W Boreham

Image: Louis Pasteur