During the past two or three years the cinematograph has entered a new field, which, fifteen years ago, would have been regarded as quite beyond its reach. With truly wonderful ingenuity the camera is attached to the microscope in such a way as to make possible the production of the actual processes of germ life.

The microscope is always a source of infinite interest. The thought of a whole world of organisms, existent, material, yet so small as to be invisible, has a peculiar fascination, and we are eagerly curious to get some conception of their structure and movements. But the possibility not merely of magnifying the red and white corpuscles of the blood till they appear like huge hoops, or the parasite of the sleeping sickness to a length of some two feet, to follow the attacks of these foes upon the human organism—such a possibility makes one feel that there is no limit to the power of man over the natural world.

Micro-cinematography is surely one of the serious triumphs of animated photography. Here again the latter offers itself as a coadjutor to scientific research, and proves its title to rank among the educational influences of the age.

Micro-cinematography may be divided into two broad classes—the study of bacteria, the most minute living organism which the scientific photographer has ever attempted to catch in motion, and popular microscopy, or the study of insects, plants, pond life, and so on.

Bacteriological micro-cinematography is an abstruse and difficult subject for investigation. The microbe is so sensitive to various influences, and so difficult to handle, that it is a formidable task to bring it within reach of the sensitised celluloid film and seize it in its normal condition and environment.

A French professor, Dr. J. Comandon, of Paris, has been for years absorbed in the study of the blood, its structure, functions, and the continuous warfare that is waged between the corpuscles, and a host of parasites as seen under the microscope and the ultra-microscope.

One supposes that the microscope is an ideal instrument for the investigation of those objects which are so minute as to be beyond the capacity of the human eye. This, however, is far from being the case. Briefly described, the microscopic investigation of bacteria is carried out by one or more of three broad processes, which are regarded almost as standardised methods. All three, however, possess numerous shortcomings. Often the bacteria has to be destroyed; and the slide has to be stained by means of aniline dyes, in order to bring up the details of the object sufficiently strongly for examinations; for the majority of the organisms under investigation are transparent, and their image stands out faintly against the brilliant light. Greater success is possible with the ultra-microscope than with the microscope. By its means objects so minute as to be invisible, even with the microscope, can be thrown as bright points upon a black background, not necessarily with sizes and forms clearly defined, but yet in such a way as to enable their positions and movements to be ascertained and followed.

The disadvantages of ordinary microscopic investigation are obvious. In many instances as the investigator has to kill the germ before he examines it, he has perforce to content himself with the study of coloured corpses of these infinitesimally small organisms.

It occurred to Dr. Comandon that possibly the microscope could be combined with the cinematograph in such a manner that the microbes could be photographed distinctly and brilliantly upon the film, and subsequently projected upon the screen with tremendous magnification, without the organisms suffering any distortion or other ill-effects. He realised that if this could be achieved, the scientist would be provided with a more powerful weapon for the examination of a particular microbe than hitherto has been available. Furthermore, if the object could be thrown on to the screen with perfect detail, then, owing to the tremendous magnification obtained, the study of the life, movement, and habits of the parasite would be possible under easy and congenial conditions.

The eminent French investigator approached Messrs. Pathé Frères, and unfolded his ideas. The technical difficulties in the way were prodigious, and the field was untested, both in microscopy and cinematography. However, as there was the possibility of some startling results being achieved, Pathé Frères decided to collaborate, and promised to provide Dr. Comandon with every facility he desired.

The work was commenced without delay, and the manufacturers proceeded with the construction of the special apparatus that was required. This had to be of an elaborate character, owing to the peculiar conditions; and exasperating failures attended the early work.

Although a cinematograph picture only measures approximately 1 inch in width by three-quarters of an inch in depth, the first magnification was considerable, ranging in the case of bacteria to 300 diameters or more. This had to be carried out with punctilious sharpness of detail, because when it came to projection, the magnification was multiplied enormously, and any error in the original picture or negative would be proportionately increased.

Bacteria are extremely sensitive to light and heat. Sunlight spells certain death to the microbe, and as a ray of electric light is the nearest artificial approach to the luminosity of our sun, its destructive component, the ultra-violet rays, had to be eliminated. Again, as the rays from the electric arc in the lantern focussed a strong heat upon the object, and as this likewise would bring about the sudden demise of the organism, the heat rays had to be mitigated as much as possible.

These two adverse factors were removed entirely by a novel arrangement. The illustration shows one of the apparatuses used by Dr. Comandon to secure his wonderful pictures. It is mounted on a rigid bench, and the parts which have to be moved to and fro to obtain adjustment, slide upon a horizontal triangular metal base, to which they are clamped in the requisite positions to secure rigidity. The lantern is mounted at the extreme end, and the light, supplied from an electric arc of 30 amperes, is concentrated into a thin ray, or pencil, which falls upon the object to be photographed, through which it passes to the film. The illumination may be either direct—that is, it may pass in a straight horizontal line from the lantern—or it may be reflected by means of a mirror in a direction perpendicular to the axis of the instrument, or at right angles, as in the ultra-microscope. The principle adopted varies according to the subject under observation. The organisms contained in a drop of blood, for instance, are dropped on to a carefully cleansed glass plate, which is inserted in the microscope in the usual manner.

At the opposite end of the bench is the cinematograph camera, which in this case is provided with extending bellows, as in the ordinary camera, for purposes of focussing. At the back of the camera is a small attachment whereby the bacteria, greatly magnified, can be focussed sharply and clearly upon the film. On top of the camera is mounted a small box containing the spool of unexposed sensitised film. When the contents of this are exhausted the box can be removed quickly and easily, and another charged film box substituted. The film drops from this box through the gate in the camera, and issues below into a second film box, which can be removed similarly when filled, to permit another empty case to be introduced. The mechanism of the camera itself is the same as that of the usual animated photographic camera, and it is operated in the same way, by the turning of a handle.

For the purpose of absorbing the heat rays, which in the concentrated beam of light would kill the microbes within a short space of time, a glass cell is inserted outside the lantern through which the focussed beam of light is passed. A stream of cold water is circulated continually through this water condenser, thus absorbing the greater proportion of the heat contained in the ray of light, without affecting its luminosity in any way. It will be observed that this is a reversion to the first projecting system evolved by the firm of Lumière for the cinematograph.

In order that the organism under photography should not be subjected to the action of the light any longer than is necessary, a revolving disc, or shutter, is placed between the microscope and the lantern. This shutter is fitted with opaque sectors or blades, corresponding to those in the camera, which at regular intervals eclipse the lens to enable the film to be jerked forward the depth of a picture intermittently after each exposure. This cut-off revolves with the camera shutter, so that when the lens aperture is closed, the light is also cut off from the organism slide in the microscope. By this arrangement the light passes through the slide of bacteria only during the fraction of a second that the celluloid film in the camera is exposed.

The evolution of this ingenious apparatus occupied several months of continuous work and hard thinking. Indeed, nearly a year was spent in experiments before a perfect film, suited to public exhibition, was produced.

As a result of the persevering and patient experiments on the part of Dr. Comandon and Messrs. Pathé Frères, a new and strange world has been revealed. The cinematograph, in conjunction with the microscope, has opened the gates of a kingdom long considered beyond the reach of all but the privileged few. Not only this; the bacteriological scientist is provided with facilities to study at ease intricate subjects which had hitherto baffled his skill. What the microscope is to the naked eye, the micro-cinematograph is to the microscope.

Some of the pictures obtained by Dr. Comandon are startling to such a degree as to be incredible. It was my privilege to see one of the first experimental films thrown upon the screen in the Paris Laboratory. It depicted the main blood stream of the frog magnified about 25,000 times. The corpuscles were plainly visible, being about the size of dinner plates. But most extraordinary was the form and movement of the parasite in the blood stream. This foreign organism resembled a tadpole in general appearance, and it darted with lightning-like rapidity to and fro, pressing home its attack upon the corpuscles of the blood with tremendous energy. One could scarcely believe that the eye was following the movements of an organism which under natural circumstances is beyond the scope of that organ. One had the sensation of gazing into a pond, where the spawn of the frog was in course of incubation, with specimens of the reptile in its first stages, darting hither and thither through the water.

Dr. Comandon introduced the spectator to still greater wonders in the under world. One may see in movement on the screen a drop of blood such as courses through one’s own body. There are the red corpuscles, or cells of circular shape as large as saucers, and some are to be seen piled upon one another like coins. The extent of the magnification in this film may be seen when it is borne in mind that a cubic space measuring 61/1000000 of an inch contains some 5,000,000 and 6,000 red and white blood cells respectively.

But the most fascinating spectacle to which we have been introduced by Dr. Comandon is the attack of the parasites upon the blood corpuscles, and the defensive tactics followed by the latter. There is one film showing blood infected with the trypanosome, discovered by Sir David Bruce, who was dispatched to Uganda by the Royal Society to investigate sleeping sickness. This malady is communicated by a species of the Tsetse-fly, which wreaks tremendous devastation among herds of cattle and horses in South Africa. For the purpose of this film Dr. Comandon inoculated a mouse with the parasite, and by the aid of the micro-cinematograph he shows the action of the disease germ through successive stages until the animal succumbs.

In the early part of the film the parasites are few in number; they are seen to dart to and fro among the blood cells with striking vigour and rapidity, jostling the corpuscles violently in all directions, and causing them to bounce against one another like india-rubber balls. As the film advances, showing the progress of the disease, the parasites are to be seen increasing rapidly in number. At last they appear to overwhelm the blood corpuscles, this multiplication continuing until death supervenes some four or five days after injection. The film was shown lately before a gathering of medical men, and created widespread interest, as it introduced them to a phase in the life of the parasite which hitherto had been beyond their comprehension.

Another film shows the “phenomenon of agglutination.” The white cells of the blood act as the policemen of the stream and maintain a vigilant outlook for criminals in the form of parasites. When the microbe offenders come within the strong arms, or embrace, of this guardian, either they are seized, or serum substances are thrown out by the white corpuscles, which agglutinate, kill, and dissolve these enemies.

The film shows the blood of a fowl infected with spirochætes. In the first instance, the microbes are to be seen swimming about actively in the plasma—the liquid in which the red and white corpuscles are held. The bird is recovering from the malady; one sees the white cells engaged in their task of restoring law and order in the blood stream. The spirochætes commence to congregate, become sluggish in their movements, forming first strings, and then star-shaped groups. The white cell appears on the scene, and these enemies gather round him in a dense clump. The policeman grasps them in a sticky embrace from which they cannot escape, and in a short time all the spirochætes have joined one or other of the gatherings about a policeman. The latter continues to throw out the agglutinate, which locks the enemies as tightly together as if they were handcuffed. At first they wriggle and endeavour to escape, but the white blood cell is too powerful. Their struggles become weaker and weaker until at last they cease. The policeman completes his victory by devouring the corpses.

One must see these pictures in animation upon the screen to observe the wonderful definition, detail, and brilliancy which they reveal. The magnification is immense—the thousandth part of an inch is increased to three feet or more. When the picture on the screen measures some 16 feet in width, the organism is magnified as much as 50,000 or possibly 100,000 times; a flea is so increased in size that it represents a fearful prehistoric monster as large as an ordinary dwelling house. A magnification of 100,000 times the diameter of the original, however, by no means indicates the limits of the eminent French investigator’s work. When the necessity arises, the enlargement can be carried to a far greater degree without any sacrifice of essential details.

Dr. Comandon’s dogged perseverance in the face of disappointments has been crowned with complete success. Micro-cinematography is on the threshold of a vast field in which it has tremendous opportunities, the limits of which it is impossible to define.