On the DEATH of LOUIS PASTEUR HAL W. MOSELEY Tulane University of Louisiana, New Orleans, Louisiana
D
ECEMBER 27, 1932, marked the one hundred tenth anniversary of the birth of Louis Pasteur, the renowned French chemist and biologist, whose work has contributed to the health and happiness of mankind a t large as that of few other investigators has done.
A replica of the pictorial cover appears herewith, and the poem-song accompanied with its free translation into English verse follows: PASTEUR N'EST PLUS
(Air:
La France Guerriere)
Un grand malheur vient de frapper la France EUe a perdu l'un de ses grands enfants. Uu homme illustre entre tous que la Science Avait dot6 de ses dons 6clclatauts. A ces deux mats: la Science e t la Patrie Sa vie entiPre a su se consacrer E t cette tache sainte il I'a remplie. Nou pas pour lui, mais pour I'humanit6. Refrain: Pasteur n'est plus, ce dompteur de la rage S e n va, dompt6 par la mort A son tour. Mais dam nos coeurs son immortelle image Sera toujours, sera toujours.
Ses inventions illustres sont sans nombre E t grace A hi que de maux 6pargn&l De sa baguette il fit sortir de I'ombre La gu&ison de bien des Cprouv&. C'est grice A lui qu'aujourd'hui bien des rnPres
Ne pleurent pas un pauvre cher enfant. I1 6pargna bien des l a m e s amsres Puisque du n o u p il devint triomphant.
There has fallen into the hands of the writer a very interesting commemorative ballad-Pasteur died September 28, 1895-which points very clearly to the high esteem and great love with which his people regarded this fine character. It is the writer's opinion that this commemorative poem-song should be preserved in the literature of chemistry in America, and i t is therefore presented to THISJOURNAL for publication so that it may he shared by American readers. The original French has been done in English verse by one of the writer's young friends, Miss Edith Loeber Ballard, an advanced student in French in the Newcomb College of Tulane University. We are indebted to her for this careful piece of work.
On se souvient du jubil6 grandiose Qui courouna ses soixante-dix ans. On 1'6leva dans m e apoth6ose. On I'accabla de voeux et de presents. La gloire ailhe en w a i t fait sa praie. On le sacrait mi dans ce jubil6 E t eomme Hugo, Pastern connut la jaie D'entrer vivant dans l'immortalit.6.
C'est A ban droit que notre France est fihe D'avoir donne le jour au gl.and Pasteur Car elle a fait voir A I'Europe euti2re Qu'on sait allier la Science A la Valeur. Quoiqu'ils soieut fiers les mangeurs de chouaohte De leurs savants avec lunettes #or, C'est toujours nous qui leur montrons la route E t malgr6 tout leur montrerans encor.
PASTEUR I S NO MORE LBONNBMO
(A*:
La France Guerriere)
A great unhappiness t o France doth fall!
A son is lost! One noblest of his race! A man i l l u s ~ o u samong them all Upon whom Science ever showered grace! His Science and his Country-'twas t o these He consecrated his entire life! He finished an unselfish task, t o ease Humanity, and lessen mankind's strife!
'Tis thanks t o him that many mothers here Now for their children dear do cry no more, For he hath spared them many a bitter teat Since dread croup he hath triumphed o'er!
We all remember still that jubilee When Pasteur three score years and six did tellMuch feted, and pronounced divine was he, And heaped he .was with gifts and wishes well! To winged glory he was then a prey! Crowned king he was, this wondrous personality, And so, like Hugo, Pasteur knew that day The joy of ent'ring, living, into Immortality!
Refrain: Pasteur, subduer of the plague, is gone, For, in his turn. Grim Death bath led him on! But in our hearts, immortal, will his image always dawn! 2
is famous works are numberless and best! Then thanks t o him who many ills hath spared. Who with his wands, Experiment and Test, The light of true cure finally hath bared!
Ow France has nll good reason for her pride In having given this great l'a5tew birth.
For she has shorn all Europe far and sidc, His =lor and his scientific worth! Though proud be those who live on sauer kraut Of their savants with gold-rimmed glasses on, 'Ti we who trace for them their route! In spite of all their efforts, we lead on!
