First our pleasures die, and then
Our hopes, and then--our fears, and when
These are dead--the debt is due.
Dust claims dust--and we die too.
SHELLEY.
Unpleasant incidents--The fabrication of lacto-bacilli--St.
Léger-en-Yvelines--Return to Paris--First cardiac attack--Evolution
of the death-instinct--Notes on his symptoms.
The end of 1912 had some unexpected emotions in store for us.
Metchnikoff had always been able to congratulate himself on the cordial
hospitality which he had found in France, and to the end of his life he
remained deeply grateful for it.
But, in any country, incidents may occur about which it would be
unjust to generalise when they are due to individuals or to particular
limited circles, as was the fact in the present case. In spite of the
broad and generous ideas so widespread in France, a sudden current
of narrow nationalism became manifest, at this moment, in certain
quarters. Foreigners were accused of invading the country, of occupying
lucrative posts and increasing the difficulties of the bitter struggle
for existence. At first, only vague allusions were made, but, little
by little, the attacks of that nationalist circle went beyond all
bounds of justice and decency and turned into brutal provocations. The
contemptuous word _métèque_ was resuscitated.
One newspaper especially led a furious propaganda and hesitated at no
means of overwhelming its victims, one of whom was Metchnikoff.
Those coarse attacks might have been ignored with the contempt which
they deserved had they not been echoed by a writer in a serious
publication. Dr. Roux then wrote a reply in the same paper, and the
campaign ceased.
A proverb says with truth, "Slander away! something will always
stick." And it was thus in this case. Metchnikoff was reproached with
having made money by his scientific discoveries. The story of his
whole life and the fact that he left no fortune should suffice to
answer this calumny, yet I am obliged to dwell on it, though I should
have preferred not to do so. The incident is too characteristic of
Metchnikoff to be omitted in this biography, which must be a faithful
testimony. The calumny was based on a real fact, but the interpretation
of it was absolutely false. After Metchnikoff's experiments on the
lactic bacillus, a notion of the hygienic power of pure sour milk began
to spread among the public. A manufacturer had the idea of preparing
it on a large scale, according to the new scientific principles, and
wished to form a company to that effect; he asked Metchnikoff to
recommend to him some one whom he could entrust with the technical work
of preparing the pure curded milk. It happened that we were just then
trying to find a post for a young couple in whom we were interested,
and whose child was my husband's goddaughter. He trained his protégé
in the technique required, and was therefore able to recommend him.
A short time later, the manufacturer declared that he could not be
sure of the success of his enterprise without the guarantee of the
name of Metchnikoff, whose researches had proved the advantages of
the preparation in question. After consulting the legal adviser of
the Pasteur Institute, Metchnikoff consented to this, without of
course having any pecuniary interest in it; the formula chosen was,
"sole provider of Professor Metchnikoff." The undertaking succeeded,
and our protégé's future was assured. Metchnikoff himself, however,
was attacked and accused most unjustly, though he had never made any
personal profit whatever from the enterprise. And yet, when his friends
told him that it had been very reckless on his part thus to expose
himself, he answered that he thought it impossible to hesitate between
the welfare of a whole family and the possibility of gossip. His
reasoning was imprudent and perhaps erroneous, but he never hesitated
between doing a kindness and the possible unpleasant consequences it
might have for himself. If some people could not understand him, it was
because he was far from the commonplace, "not like other people," a
quality often misunderstood and unforgiven.
Such are the facts. "Honi soit qui mal y pense!"
The desire to lessen the ills around him was, in general, the cause of
heavy anxieties in his later years. He had learnt that the discovery of
an industrial process, of which the realisation required capital, would
be an excellent investment. He immediately wished to make his friends
profit by it, as well as himself, in order to alleviate material
difficulties. But until the end of his life the undertaking had no
results, and he was obsessed by the fear of having given bad advice to
those who followed him.
He knew not how to refuse, even when he should have done so; therefore
he was odiously exploited. Often he worked, in his rare leisure
moments, for people who were unworthy of his kindness. During the last
years of his life, all these incidents grieved him so much that he used
to say he felt the burden of existence. His soul was darkened, he felt
very depressed, and his health suffered.
We spent the summer holidays of 1913 at St. Léger-en-Yvelines, a
pretty place on the edge of the Rambouillet forest. In his choice of a
holiday resort, my husband was always guided by the desire to find a
place favourable to my sketching, and St. Léger answered the purpose
wonderfully. The fields with their vast horizons, the forest with its
graceful bracken and carpets of softly-tinted heather, the mysterious
ponds, all went to compose an admirable symphony, full of artistic
suggestion.
Elie himself was gay and full of spirits. He worked in the morning, and
we spent the rest of the day in the forest. He often read aloud; he
rested and enjoyed the peaceful calm, pure air, and verdure which he
loved so much.
He had arranged to take advantage of these holidays to execute work of
which he had been thinking for a long time. As it has been said above,
he thought that the life instinct was only developed gradually and
produced at the same time an optimistic conception of life; he wished
to verify this personal impression by the psychological evolution of
divers other thinkers. He turned to Maeterlinck, as a representative of
modern ideas. This author, mystical and pessimistic in his youth, had
acquired in his maturity a far more optimistic conception of life. He
himself explained this change by the influence of circumstances, but
Metchnikoff saw in it a deeper cause, connected with the progressive
evolution of the vital instinct which, by bringing equilibrium with
it, suggests optimism. The study of Maeterlinck's works confirmed his
opinion.
Time flowed peacefully between rest and these occupations; at the end
of the holidays, we congratulated ourselves on their result on my
husband's health; on our return, his friends thought him looking well.
Yet on the 19th October, about seven in the morning, he had a terrible
cardiac attack without any apparent cause. I found him seated at his
desk, and was terrified by his appearance; his lips were blue, and he
was breathing with difficulty. And yet he was writing, and this is what
he was writing:
SÈVRES, _19th October 1913_, 7.45 A.M.
This morning, after a good night, my heart was working well; I had
from 58 to 59 regular pulsations. But, as I rose, I suddenly felt
acute pain along the sternum; at the same time began a strong crisis
of tachycardia. I had never in my life felt anything like it....
Here he had to stop as the crisis was becoming intolerable, but a few
hours later he took up his pen again:
_19th October_, 3 P.M.
The crisis lasted till one o'clock (six hours' duration).
There were times when the pain in the chest was unendurable.
I was thirsty and drank hot, weak tea; I vomited; I felt wind in the
stomach and the intestine. About noon the pain decreased, but the
heart-beats were frequent and extremely irregular. I lunched in
order not to alarm my wife, though I feared to aggravate the attack
by filling my stomach.
But the opposite happened. From the first mouthfuls (I naturally
eat very little) the pain became more tolerable and the pulse less
frequent. After lunch, everything became normal again; the pain
ceased, the pulsations slackened (78-80 per min.) and became much
more regular. Intermittence was rare, and I several times counted
100 regular beats in succession. I remained absolutely conscious
during the whole crisis, and what chiefly pleased me is that I felt
no fear of death, which I was expecting at every moment. It was not
only _reasoning_ which made me understand that it was better to die
now, whilst my intellectual powers had not yet gone from me and I had
evidently accomplished all of what I was capable; I resigned myself
also _in feeling_, and quite serenely to the catastrophe which was
coming upon me and which would be far from unexpected.
My mother, who had suffered from heart attacks during a great part of
her life, died at 65. My father died of apoplexy in his 68th year.
My eldest sister succumbed to an oedema of the brain; my brother
Nicholas died at 57 of _angina pectoris_.
Undoubtedly my cardiac heredity is a bad one. Already in my youth, I
suffered from my heart. At 33 I had such cardiac pains that sometimes
I had to rest after walking a few paces. At 34, I had much giddiness
and a feeling of heaviness in the head. I could not read a few lines,
a poster even, without a painful sensation. In 1881, during relapsing
fever, I had severe cardiac intermittence, very fatiguing and only
relieved by small doses of digitalin.
I afterwards had periodical attacks of intermittence but never any
tachycardia, at least none that lasted more than a few seconds.
A little tincture of strophanthus used to relieve me during
intermittence. I ended by consulting Dr. Vaquez, but the treatment
he prescribed gave me no relief. As I attributed my condition to
poisoning by the toxins of intestinal microbes, I resolved to give
up raw food and to purge myself now and then with Carabaña water.
The success of this treatment was indisputable, and in 1897 the
intermittence ceased. In the autumn of 1898 I was beginning to suffer
from polyuria; I consulted Albaran, who counselled Contrexéville
water, but this cure caused the appearance of _albumen_ in my urine.
In 1898 I consulted Norden at Frankfort and Leube in Paris during
the Exhibition of 1900. Neither found anything alarming. Norden had
told me that I had _symptoms of arterio-sclerosis inherent to my age_
(53). I adopted a mixed diet; I took, regularly, sour milk prepared
with cultures of the Bulgarian lactic bacillus, and, during some
years, my health was quite satisfactory.
It was only after my journey to Russia in 1909 that a notable
aggravation supervened. I felt acute pains in the chest, along the
sternum, especially after eating or walking.
In 1911 the intermittence reappeared. In January 1911, I consulted
Dr. Heitz in order to know whether I could undertake an expedition in
the Kalmuk steppes, where hygienic conditions are very unfavourable.
Dr. Heitz found my heart hypertrophied, some slight galloping noise,
the blood-pressure (Pachon's apparatus) 17-16-15. He said, however,
that I might undertake the journey, but added, "People die suddenly
with less the matter than that with their hearts." The journey went
well, though I suffered from frequent intermittence and pains along
the sternum when I walked.
After my return, my heart was fairly satisfactory.
What consoles me especially is that I have preserved my activity, my
passion for work, and my intellectual powers. But, naturally, I am
ready to die at any moment.
At the beginning of the summer I was sounded by Dr. Manoukhine and
Professor Tchistovitch; both thought the heart-sounds satisfactory,
but Manoukhine was rather struck by the weakness of the first
aortic sound whilst the second was very strong. I had frequent
intermittence, but with intervals of normal pulsations. Latterly I
have felt better in that respect, and the pain along the sternum only
occurred in exceptional cases.
Whilst preparing for my end, I am glad that I can face it with
courage and serenity.
As I look back upon my life, it seems to me to have been as
"orthobiotic" as possible.
If it may seem premature to die at 68 years and 5 months, it must not
be forgotten that I began to live very early (I published my first
scientific work at 18); that I have had many emotions during my life;
that I was, so to speak, in a state of continual ebullition.
The polemics concerning phagocytosis might have killed or finally
enfeebled me much earlier. At times (for instance, I refer to
Lubarsch's attacks in 1889 and those of Pfeiffer in 1894) I was ready
to rid myself of life.
Moreover, I only began to follow a rational hygiene (according
to my opinion) after I was 53 years old and already had symptoms
of arterio-sclerosis. I have been fairly successful in combating
intestinal putrefaction (phenols and indols),[29] but I could not
succeed in getting rid of abundant _clostridium butyricum_ which were
implanted in my intestine.
To sum up, I rejoice that I have had an existence not devoid of
sense, and I feel some satisfaction in considering my conception of
the problem of life as being accurate.
As I prepare to die, I have not the shadow of a hope of a life
beyond, and I calmly look forward to complete annihilation.
It is possible that having very early begun a very intense life, I
have attained at 68 a precocious satiety of living, just as certain
women cease to menstruate earlier than the great majority.
EL. METCHNIKOFF.
_P.S._--I believe everything is in order in view of my end (my will,
my affairs, etc.).
_P.S._--Let those who think that, according to my principles, I
should have lived a hundred years, "forgive" me my premature end in
view of the extenuating circumstances above-mentioned (intense and
precocious activity, excitable temperament, nervous disposition, and
late beginning of the rational diet).
E. M.
[29] 28th _June_ 1914.--I have again analysed my urine and I
again find indican in fairly large quantities in spite of
a diet which is as rational as possible. I am trying to
elucidate this strange contradiction.
The very next day he felt well enough to return to his work.
When urged to settle down in Paris in order to avoid the fatigue of
the journey, he replied that the peace and pure air of Sèvres were
indispensable to his health, that the journey did not fatigue him in
the least, but on the contrary provided him with wholesome exercise and
a pleasant walk. Knowing how prudent he was, I did not dare to insist
for fear of mistaking what was really best for him. And life gradually
resumed its normal course....
For a long time Metchnikoff had been observing himself very
attentively; he took regular notes on the influence of the food
diet which he followed; by the analysis of his urine, he sought for
indications respecting the toxic products of his intestinal flora; he
studied upon himself the advance of senility, whitening of hair, etc.
Since his crisis he had adopted the habit of writing occasional notes
on his psychical state. This is what he wrote on the 23rd December 1913
at Sèvres:
Two months and more have passed since I wrote the preceding lines.
During that period my health has been satisfactory; nevertheless I
have wondered every day whether it would be my last.
I am therefore hastening to write my memoir on infantile cholera.
The cardiac intermittence has been more or less frequent, yet every
day I have had periods of regular pulsations (58-66-72 per minute) as
usual.
The day before yesterday I contracted a bad cold, accompanied by a
little fever. Wondering if it would degenerate into pneumonia, I
faced anew the possibility of a near end, and I resumed the analysis
of my thoughts, feelings, and sensations.
As my 70 years draw near to their close, it seems to me that a
feeling of satiety with life, what I call the "natural death
instinct," is gently beginning to evolve.
When, in autumn 1910, experimenting with typhoid cultures, I had
soiled my face and mouth, I naturally said to myself that it might
give me typhoid fever. I washed my face and beard with soap and a
solution of sublimate without considering that I was safe against
the infection. I _reasoned_ that it would be preferable to contract
the disease and to die of it. (At my age typhoid fever is almost
always fatal. I had never had it, and might therefore consider myself
in a state of receptivity.) It is fine to fall on the battlefield,
especially at an age when life and activity are already on the
wane. But all that was pure _reasoning_; _instinctively_ I still
felt a great desire to live, and it was with joy that I counted
the days which separated me from the danger of having contracted
typhoid fever. I felt much relieved a fortnight after the incident,
considering that the limit of incubation was passed.
Thus _reasoning_ and feeling or _instinct_ were not in accord.
Since then, in the three following years, a modification has taken
place in my psychical condition.
The prospect of death _frightens me less than before_. During my
cardiac crisis of the 19th October 1913 I even felt no fear of death,
and my satisfaction at my recovery was _less_ than before.
I think it is that difference in quantity which constitutes the first
symptoms of _indifference_ towards death, an indifference which is
hardly perceptible at first.
Satiety with life is sometimes observed in old people of 80; it is
not surprising to feel the first approach of it about 70, especially
in the case of a man like myself who began very early to lead a very
intense life.
Other special circumstances influence even more this precocious
satiety of life. As I become more indifferent to my own life I feel
a more and more acute anxiety for the health, life, and happiness of
those who are dear to me.
I am especially troubled by a consciousness of the imperfection
of modern medicine. In spite of the progress realised in these
latter days, it is still powerless against a multitude of diseases,
threatening us on all sides.
Pulmonary lesions (tuberculosis, pneumonia, etc.), the nephrites, and
an infinite quantity of other diseases can yet neither be prevented
nor cured. So we live in constant fear for those we love. When
medicine shall (as I am persuaded) have conquered all these evils,
one cause of the bitterness of life will cease--but that is not yet
the case.
That is why, besides the weakening of the life-instinct, a
resignation towards death grows in us, as a means of no longer
feeling the ills which afflict our neighbours.
With time, when that source of unhappiness has been eliminated by
medicine, old age will be more attractive, and an orthobiotic life
will become normal and realisable.
At the ages of 50, 60, 65, I felt an intense joy in living, such as I
described in my _Studies on Human Nature_ and _Optimistic Essays_. In
the last few years it has lessened markedly.
Scientific work still provokes in me an invincible enthusiasm, but I
am becoming more indifferent to many of the pleasures of life.
And indeed he no longer had the joyous soul of former days; into his
life a funereal note had crept, low but continuous and obstinate. He
gave all the more energy to the study of those questions the solution
of which was to bring about the reign of orthobiosis. He spent
the whole winter in researches on the intestinal flora and on the
completion of his studies on infantile cholera.
In the spring, on the occasion of his anniversary, he wrote the
following:
SÈVRES, _16th May 1914_.
I have to-day entered my 70th year; it is a great event for me. As I
analyse my feelings, I realise more and more the _weakening_ of my
"life-instinct."
In order to verify my impressions, I wished to hear again the
musical compositions which formerly used to make me shed tears of
enthusiasm (for instance, Beethoven's 7th Symphony or Bach's aria
for the violin). Well, my impressionability towards music has very
much lessened. In spite of the facility with which old people weep, I
hardly shed a single tear, save with rare exceptions.
I observe the same change in other circumstances.
This spring, the blossoming of flowers, buds, bushes, and trees, all
this renascence of nature, has not excited in me a shadow of the
emotion of preceding years.
Rather I felt a melancholy, not on account of my coming end, but
because of the consciousness of the burden of existence.
There is no question for me now of the old joy of living; my
predominant feeling is _infinite anxiety_ for the health and
happiness of those I love. I now so well understand Pettenkoffer,
who committed suicide at 84 after losing all his family. Their
death had evidently been precocious because of the impotence of
medicine. At every step, one comes across cases where neither
hygiene nor therapeutics can do anything. How many are infected with
tuberculosis, no one knows how or where. What is to be done to avoid
it? And the consequences of measles, of scarlet fever, perhaps of a
simple sore throat, followed sometimes by tuberculosis or nephritis!
What is the use of being able to foretell, by means of the proportion
of urea in the blood, the precise moment of the death of an
"azotemic" patient when you cannot prevent it or cure him?
This imperfection of medical science prevents many from reaching true
_orthobiosis_, and it is understandable that, seeing the present
state of medicine, the feeling of the "burden of existence" may be
precocious, as in my case.
But it is indubitable that, in spite of the slowness with which
medical science is developing, it will in the future reach a degree
which will enable us to cease to tremble any longer before all sorts
of incurable diseases. Orthobiosis will then appear, no longer under
its present incomplete form, but as the solid and essential basis of
life.