Pouchet then devised this ingenious experiment. He filled a bottle with boiling water, hermetically sealed it with the greatest care, and plunged it upside down into a basin of mercury. When the water was quite cold he uncorked the bottle under the metal, and introduced into it half a litre of pure oxygen gas, which is as necessary to the life of the smallest microscopic organism as it is to that of the larger animals and vegetables. Up to this time there was nothing in the vessel but pure water and oxygen. Pouchet then introduced a minute bunch of hay which had been enclosed in a corked bottle, and exposed in a stove for a long time to a temperature of more than 100 degrees. At the end of eight days a mouldiness was developed in this infusion of hay. 'Where does this come from?' cried M. Pouchet triumphantly. Certainly not from the oxygen, which had been prepared from a chemical compound at the temperature of incandescence. The water had been equally deprived of germs, since at the boiling temperature all germs would have been destroyed. The hay also could not have contained them, for it had been taken from a stove heated to 100 degrees. As it was urged, however, that certain organisms could resist this temperature, M. Pouchet heated the hay from 200 to 300 degrees, or to any temperature that might be desired. Pasteur came to disturb the triumph of M. Pouchet. In a lecture which he gave at the Sorbonne in 1864, before a large assembly composed of savants, philosophers, ladies, priests, and novelists--Alexandre Dumas was in the first row--all showing eager interest in the problems to be dealt with in the lecture, Pasteur thus criticised the experiment of Pouchet: 'This experiment is irreproachable, but irreproachable only on those points which have attracted the attention of its author. I will demonstrate before you that there is a cause of error which M. Pouchet has not perceived, which he has not in the least suspected, which no one before him suspected, but which renders his experiment as completely illusory as that of Van Helmont's pot of dirty linen. I will show you where the mice got in. I will prove to you, in short, that it is the mercury which carries the germs into the vessels, or, rather, not to go beyond the demonstrated fact, the dust which is suspended in the air.' To render visible this floating dust, Pasteur caused the hall to be darkened, and pierced the obscurity by a beam of light. There then appeared, dancing and twirling in the beam, thousands of little particles of dust.