Having decided to settle in France, we hastened to make ourselves acquainted with contemporary French literature, thinking to find in it a reflection of the soul and manners of the nation. But the realistic literature of the time, in spite of the great artistic worth of many of the authors, gave us an erroneous idea of life in France, of which it represented but one of many aspects. It was therefore with apprehension that we asked ourselves if we should ever be able to adapt ourselves to the new conditions, and whether our isolation would not be great.

We arrived in Paris on the 15th of October 1888, and we lodged at a small hotel in the Latin quarter, not far from the rue d’Ulm where the old Pasteur Institute stood, the new one not being completed. There was but little room in the laboratory, and Metchnikoff felt rather uneasy, fearing that he was in the way. But the new Institute soon was sufficiently advanced for him to settle there.

He was given two rooms on the second floor; I served as his assistant; he was perfectly happy at being at last able to give himself up in peace to his work. Soon, young physicians came to work under his direction. Their number having increased, he was given a whole floor in which to instal them, two rooms on that floor being reserved for his own use. He occupied these rooms until the end of his life.

His dreams were at last realised. This is from a narration of the causes which led to his departure from Russia, in his own words:

Soon he was able to appreciate the great French qualities: humanitarian manners, tolerance, and gentleness, real freedom of thought, loyal and courteous intercourse, all of which made life easy and agreeable. And most precious of all were the true friendships which he contracted with his colleagues and his pupils. Indeed the Institut Pasteur and France became for him a second Motherland, and when in later years he was invited to other countries with more liberal conditions, he habitually replied that only for one place would he leave the Pasteur Institute, “the neighbouring cemetery of Montparnasse.”

However, after his death, the Pasteur Institute which he had so loved continued to give him hospitality and harboured his ashes....

Pasteur himself ever was most kind and helpful to Metchnikoff. During the first years, when his health still allowed it, he used often to come to the laboratory, questioning Metchnikoff on his researches with much interest and always warmly encouraging him. He even attended assiduously his course of lectures on inflammation. After his state of health no longer allowed him to go out, Metchnikoff used to visit him every day, and tried to cheer him by talking to him of current researches.

MM. Duclaux and Roux became his closest friends; they were at first brought together by scientific interests and by questions concerning the Institute; but, gradually, personal sympathy grew up between them, binding them by that solid bond which is made up of daily occurrences, inducing respect, confidence, and affection. Moreover, Metchnikoff felt the deepest gratitude towards Pasteur and his collaborators, who had given him the possibility of working in so favourable an atmosphere.

From the very first, Pasteur sympathised with the phagocyte theory; the other members of the Institute thought it too biological, almost vitalistic. But when they had made themselves thoroughly cognisant with it, they also adopted it. Thus, having found in the Pasteur Institute not only favourable working conditions but also moral support, Metchnikoff became deeply attached to it, and the interests of “the House” became his.

In 1915, on the occasion of Metchnikoff’s seventieth anniversary, M. Roux, in a Jubilee speech, gave of him and of his work the following appreciation which describes, better than anything I could say, what his part was in the Pasteur Institute:

At the beginning the members of the Pasteur Institute were few, and the association bore a quasi-family character, Pasteurians often being compared with a monastic order, united by the worship of science. The progressive growth of the Institute inevitably destroyed its character of intimacy, but it remained a precious scientific focus, and this is what Metchnikoff said of it in 1913, À propos of the twenty-fifth anniversary of its foundation:

It was especially the development of pure scientific research in the Institute which interested Metchnikoff; he continually considered means of contributing towards it; he thought it necessary to attract active scientific forces regardless of their origin, to institute generous scientific “scholarships,” and to stimulate by every means scientific activity and spirit.

As the rapid development of bacteriology necessitated having recourse to chemistry, physics, and physiology, he considered it indispensable to organise collective work in which specialists in these divers branches should take part, thus collaborating to the solution of the same problem. Later he was able to realise this project, up to a certain point, in his own laboratory, when studying intestinal flora.

He thought it would be useful to extend this method, as far as possible, to researches such as that on tuberculosis and on cancer, such researches being complicated and protracted and demanding co-ordinate efforts and an organisation that should prevent the repetition of individual first steps. A clinic attached to the Pasteur Institute and adapted to scientific researches seemed to him indispensable.

He also considered that the experimental study of those human diseases which can only be inoculated in anthropoid apes should be carried out through the breeding of those animals in the colonies, for infantile diseases demand very young apes as subjects for experiments, and they cannot be brought to Europe in sufficient numbers without great loss. A mission of workers might carry out experiments on the spot.

He thought the popularisation of science a very useful thing and wished the Pasteur Institute to participate in it by appropriate courses of public lectures. He attached great importance to the penetration into ordinary life of results acquired by science, for the struggle against disease consists chiefly in prophylactic and hygienic measures which can only be applied by a well-informed public. For that reason he was always willing to be interviewed on scientific questions by journalists and, indeed, by any one, however ignorant. In order to instruct the public he often wrote popular articles on questions of hygiene and medicine.

Science in general never was a dead letter for him; his most abstract conceptions were always narrowly bound to life; he saw one through the other and considered that they should serve each other.

Apart from scientific researches, he took part in the courses given at the Pasteur Institute. He prepared his lectures with infinite care, and, in spite of his long experience, he never could give them without some nervousness, especially during the last years of his life. He used even to write down the first sentences and to read them out in order to give himself time to recover; but very soon his self-control would return, and he would proceed with animation and lucidity; his lectures were living and suggestive.

I have mentioned above Roux’s masterly appreciation of his influence at the Pasteur Institute. The following was written to me, a year after Metchnikoff’s death, by one of his closest disciples and collaborators, and describes in a vivid manner the deep feelings with which he inspired his pupils:

Metchnikoff on his part never remained indifferent to his pupils. His solicitude towards them was warm, sometimes paternal, always ready and active. Many of his pupils remained his friends and collaborators for years afterwards. His fiery and exclusive temperament, however, made him take up a very different attitude in exceptional cases, when he found himself in front of one who persisted in a path which Metchnikoff himself considered the wrong path, or before an action which he thought disloyal or work done without conscience. Then he became beside himself, and positively dangerous to those who had exposed themselves to the paroxysm of his indignation.

Fortunately such cases were rare; as a general rule, the atmosphere of his laboratory was impregnated with scientific spirit and ardour; all forces in it converged towards the same goal, being bound together by a community of aspirations and activity of which he was the soul.

The first period of his life in France was taken up by the strengthening and development of the phagocyte theory and by an eager struggle in its defence. He displayed in it his full energy as a scientist and a fighter, and this was perhaps the most agitated, the most tense period of his life.

When at last his theory was securely established and began to be accepted, he continued his researches with the same passionate ardour but in an atmosphere of peace. It was joy and bliss to him to be able to work apart from other preoccupations, and the years of his life between fifty and sixty were the happiest he ever had.

The state of his soul and his ideas had considerably evolved in the course of years; the great moral and physical sensitiveness which had so often made him miserable in his youth had decreased and he had become much less impulsive. Unpleasant sensations no longer caused him so much suffering; he could bear the mewing of a cat or the barking of a dog; personal vexations no longer made him take such a horror of life as to wish to be rid of it: he now merely tried to conquer them.

At first this change operated less upon his ideas than upon his sensations and sentiments. Accustomed as he was to analyse his emotions, he realised the development within himself of a new sense of appreciation; less sensitive now to extreme impressions, he had become more so to ordinary ones. For instance, though less enchanted by music, and less irritated by discordant noises, he enjoyed absolute calm more fully. Now indifferent to rich food, which he formerly used to enjoy, he appreciated simple fare, bread and pure water. He did not seek for picturesque sites but took infinite pleasure in watching the growth of grass or the bursting of a bud. The first halting steps or the smile of an infant charmed and delighted him.

Demanding less from life, he now appreciated it as it was, and experienced the joy of mere living. The instinct, the sense of life had been born in him. He now saw Life and Nature under a different aspect from that which they had borne for him in his youth, for he had gradually acquired more balance; he had become adapted.

In their turn, his ideas evolved towards a more optimistic conception of life. His reflections, freed from the yoke of his juvenile sensitiveness, tended towards the possibility of a correction of the disharmonies of human nature through knowledge and will. This evolution had taken years. “In order to understand the meaning of life,” he said, “it is necessary to live a long time, without which one finds oneself in the position of a congenitally blind man before whom the beauties of colour are spread out.”

During the twenty-eight years that he lived in France, nearly all his time was devoted to the laboratory. Whilst the Institute was still in its beginning, work there was calm and collected; but, as its growing renown attracted many people, this quietude decreased considerably. Metchnikoff felt this, but could not bring himself to refuse to admit those who came; he compensated himself by peaceful Sundays and holidays.

For a long time we inhabited the neighbourhood of the Institute and spent the summers at SÈvres; in 1898 we bought a small villa there with a sum of money which we inherited from an aunt. In 1905 we settled there altogether, for Metchnikoff, confined in the laboratory all day, felt the need of fresh air; the daily walk that he was obliged to take to reach the house and the absolute calm, away from the noise of the city, suited him; he even fancied that the hill on which the house was built provided him with a wholesome exercise for his heart.

The return to SÈvres, which he greatly liked, was to him a daily source of pleasure. I can see him now, hastily coming out of the train, his pockets full of papers and brochures which he read in the train and parcels in his hands, for he loved to bring home little presents. A kindly smile illumined his face and he never failed to express the pleasure he felt at coming home. “How pure the air is! How green the grass! What peace! You see, if I did not go to Paris to work I should not be so alive to the charm of SÈvres and the pleasure of rest.” He used to come home at seven and do no more work; it was his daily rest. He then gave himself up to complete relaxation, joked, related the incidents of the day, spoke of his researches, planned experiments for the next day, read aloud part of the evening and then listened to music, not only because he liked it, but also because he wanted to “switch on to another line,” i.e. rest his mind completely.

He was an incomparable companion, always alive and communicative, generously giving out the treasures of his heart and his intelligence. He liked a simple life; all artifice, all convention displeased him. He disliked luxury in his person to that extent that he never consented to possess a gold watch nor any object with no particular use. His only luxury was to gratify others. He enjoyed peaceful family life and a circle of intimate friends. Yet, appreciating as he did all serious manifestations of life, he was glad to have the opportunity of meeting people who were interesting either in themselves or for the knowledge which they could impart.

In Life as in Science he found precepts to help the evolution of his moral and philosophical ideas, which he placed in their turn at Life’s service. If he could not solve a problem, he at least pointed out its importance.

His attentive penetration of things in themselves, coupled with a creative imagination, was the force which enabled him to open out new prospects and new paths.

On looking back upon his own life, he used to say that the period spent at the Pasteur Institute had been the happiest, the most favourable to his scientific work; he therefore remained deeply attached to it until the end of his life.