A young woman of Ulverston who was much in the company of the nailer’s wife from Wigan, caught smallpox from her child, and died on 22 February; her sister sickened soon after, and had the disease favourably. An epidemic followed in the town, of which some particulars are known down to October, 1816; the disease was very fatal also in Whitehaven at the same time. Two things gave a particular interest to the Ulverston smallpox of 1816, two things which were found to characterize the epidemic everywhere in England and Scotland as it spread in 1817, 1818 and 1819. These were, first the numerous cases of smallpox among those who had been inoculated with cowpox, a sequel now obvious on a large scale for the first time; and secondly, the admixture of a good many cases of “crystalline” or “hornpox” eruptions among the usual pustular cases. There was nothing new in such crystalline eruptions in smallpox; for example Huxham mentions them at Plymouth in 1752. But they were always curious, and it was always a matter of wonder that they should happen in one epidemic and not in another. Of thirty-five cases tabulated from the Ulverston epidemic of 1816, twelve had the “horny pox,” or the “small horny kind,” all the rest having the ordinary pustules of smallpox, sometimes discrete, sometimes confluent, four being scarred, and one covered by “a complete cake of incrustation.” All those thirty-five cases were above five years of age, except one child of three, and they seem to have nearly all recovered. Nothing is said of the infants and children under the age of five, who then contributed three-fourths of the mortality in every epidemic of smallpox. The crystalline eruption was not chickenpox; for the three first cases of it had all gone through chickenpox before.

Almost identical in tenour with this account from Ulverston is the narrative of an epidemic at Newton Stewart, in Wigton, just across the Solway from Cumberland, which began in the autumn of 1816, but did not extend until the following summer[1102]. The first case was one of “hornpox” in a girl from London; the second case was in a companion of the former, in the same family, her disease being ordinary pustular smallpox; both had been vaccinated. One hundred cases in the epidemic were thus assorted:

That is to say, the mortality of the whole was thirteen per cent., an ordinary mortality for a country town. There were all extremes, from confluent smallpox to discrete, many of the discrete having no proper pustules “but hard vesicles of more or less tubercular appearance.... These were termed by the people nerles or hornpox, and have long been noticed by very aged matrons, who pretend to no little skill in the diagnostics of smallpox, and who have distinct varieties by name, beyond the enumeration of any nosologist.” Their diagnostic skill was natural enough, for the practice in smallpox had been almost entirely in their hands.

A certain proportion of hornpox cases was so characteristic of this epidemic (1816-19) as to have been remarked everywhere—in England as well as in Scotland. The epidemic was not well reported as a whole at any one place. Sometimes, as at Ulverston, only the vaccinated cases were given; at other times, as at Cupar Fife and Edinburgh, only the “hornpox” cases were given; again, in the account of the Norwich epidemic, which is the fullest, the large number of cases with crystalline or horny eruption were not counted in as smallpox cases at all. Dewar’s table of the Cupar Fife epidemic, in the spring of 1817, included 70 cases, all of crystalline or hornpox[1103]. The latter variety was part of the epidemic at St Andrews[1104].

The Edinburgh cases which Thomson heard of to the end of the epidemic numbered 556, assorted as follows[1105]:

A large proportion had the crystalline eruption, while some of the deaths are put down to “malignant crystalline water-pock.” At Lanark and New Lanark the epidemic was also taken notice of[1106]. At the latter were situated the cotton mills managed under Robert Owen’s co-operative system; and it appears that vaccination had been somewhat generally carried out in this socialist community. The following was the incidence of smallpox upon 322 persons:

It is clear that this was the first severe and general epidemic in Scotland since the beginning of the century, although we have seen that the disease had never been out of Glasgow. Thomson saw well enough how that epidemiological fact told: “It is to the severity of this epidemic, I am convinced, that we ought to attribute the greatness of the number of the vaccinated who have been attacked by it, and not to any deterioration in the qualities of cowpox virus, or to any defects in the manner in which it has been employed. [Dewar said the same for Cupar Fife.] Had a variolous constitution of the atmosphere, similar to that which we have lately experienced, existed at the time Dr Jenner brought forward his discovery, it may be doubted whether it ever could have obtained the confidence of the public.” Thomson himself, professor of military surgery in Edinburgh and a person of high character, drew the most astonishing inferences from the tolerably simple facts of the epidemic in 1817-19. The crystalline was mixed with the ordinary pustular smallpox in this epidemic, as it had been in some 18th century epidemics; it was common to those who had been vaccinated and to those who had not been so; it occurred in those who had previously gone through the chickenpox. Yet the professor concluded that crystalline or hornpox was smallpox “modified” by vaccination, that it should be called “varioloid,” and that “modified” smallpox and chickenpox were the same disease.

Several cases of smallpox had occurred in the spring of 1816 at Quarndon, two miles from Derby, one or two of the nine cases proving fatal. Several of the Derby doctors went to see them, some calling them “aggravated chickenpox,” and others “mild smallpox after vaccination.” In the spring following (1817), most of the children and young people in the villages of Breadsall, Smalling, Spondon, Heaver, and others near Derby, were afflicted with the epidemic, which declined in autumn. It came back in the spring of 1818, when it spread more generally than before, and was still prevalent at the end of that year, in Nottinghamshire and Staffordshire as well as in Derbyshire. In Herefordshire, also, in February, 1818, “typhus, measles and smallpox were at once raging.” The disease proved fatal in many instances among the lower orders in Derbyshire, who still followed the heating regimen, giving the children saffron to drink, and holding them in blankets before a strong fire, to bring the eruption out; but it was fatal also to some who were treated more rationally. In this part of England, as in Lancashire, Wigtonshire, Fifeshire, Edinburgh, and elsewhere, a large proportion of the cases had the crystalline eruption of smallpox, horny or glassy pimples or hard vesicles, which dried about the sixth day. But, said Dr Bent, the peculiar form “is the same in those persons who have never had the cowpox and in those who have passed through that disease satisfactorily.” His two drawings of the characteristic hornpox were made from unvaccinated children. On the very day of his writing he had seen two children in the same family, both with the crystalline eruption, the one vaccinated and the other not. In his practice at the Derby Infirmary, one in-patient and one out-patient had died of smallpox after vaccination, and one out-patient had died of it who had not been vaccinated. He was greatly astonished, after all that had been said of the certainty of cowpox protection[1107].

The epidemic of 1817-19 was longest in reaching the Eastern Counties, just as that of 1741-42 had been, and that of 1837-39 was to be. It was also towards the close of 1818 and beginning of 1819 that the disease became frequent in Canterbury. When it did reach Norwich, Lynn and many other places in Norfolk and Suffolk it became unusually destructive. The history of smallpox in Norwich from the beginning of the century was a history of the usual periodic epidemics, such as the city had been visited by in former times, according to the records in Blomefield’s History or other sources. The first epidemic was in the year 1805, when smallpox was unusually common in London also. The next, with 203 deaths, lasted from 1807 to 1809. In 1813, the bills again showed many deaths by it from 10 February to 3 September. For fully four years after that there was not a death from smallpox reported in Norwich. In June, 1818, by which time the epidemic had reached large dimensions in Ireland, Scotland, and part of England, it was brought to Norwich by a girl who had come with her parents from York; it spread little at the time, the deaths to the end of the year being only two. Meanwhile measles was a very frequent and fatal disease among the children in Norwich throughout the year 1818. The smallpox began to rage in April, 1819, after which the measles was hardly met with, and only a few cases of scarlatina. The following table shows the enormous rapidity with which smallpox went through the infants and children of the Norwich populace when it had once fairly begun[1108]:

In one week of June, there were forty-three burials from smallpox. Half the deaths were of infants under two years; nearly all the rest were of children under ten:

If the deaths were at the rate of one in about six cases, there would have been some three thousand children attacked in a population of 50,000 of all ages. Two hundred cases which Cross kept notes of were classified by him thus:

Forty-six of these died, a rather high rate of 23 per cent., which is due perhaps to the crystalline or hornpox cases being excluded from the definition of smallpox altogether; all the petechial or haemorrhagic cases died, and most of the confluent. Sloughing of the face, lips or labia, occurred in three children, and bloody stools in many of the worst cases. Those 200 cases occurred in 112 families, comprising 603 individuals, of whom nearly one-half (297) “had smallpox formerly” (including the inoculated form of it, doubtless).

This was a great epidemic for Norwich in the 19th century. The public health there, as elsewhere, had improved greatly since the 18th century. In 1742 the deaths had been increased 502 by smallpox; but in that year, a year of severe typhus, the deaths from all causes were 1953, against 1352 in 1819. One reason of the enormous smallpox mortality from May to September, 1819, was the number of susceptible children, all the greater that there had been hardly any smallpox for five years, whereas in towns such as Norwich in the 18th century it appears to have been perennial: all the greater, also, because “the removal of families from the country to Norwich, during a flourishing and improving state of our manufactures for two or three preceding years, gave a sudden increase to the number of those liable to the disease.” Norwich may have been better off than many other towns; but the winter of 1816-17, when the smallpox epidemic began, was a time of depressed trade, many families being on the move in search of work; and it does not appear that all those who crowded to Norwich had found employment. The epidemic was “confined almost exclusively to the very lowest orders of the people;” the contagion was spread abroad among them by the shifts they were reduced to in their indigence—“the public exposure of hideous objects just recovering, loaded with scabs, at the street corners.” Yet this deplorable state of want and beggary does not seem to have been accompanied with much typhus fever among the adult population, as it certainly was in 1742. Cross describes a petechial fever, in May, June and July, 1819, which was fatal in all the cases that he was called to; but he speaks of it only among children. Whenever the population increases rapidly, as it had been doing in the second decade of the 19th century, it is upon the young lives that epidemic mortality falls most. The smallpox epidemic at Norwich in 1819 caused rather more deaths than in 1742, when the public health was very much worse; but it would hardly have caused so many had it not been aided by the state of population.

The epidemic of 1819 spread all over East Anglia[1109]. At Lynn there had been a good deal of the disease three years before; in 1819 there were so many deaths from it that in June the clergy ordered the smallpox burials to be specially marked in the register, from which date until the end of August they numbered forty. At Yarmouth the epidemic was still raging at the end of 1819. Of ninety-one surgeons in Norfolk and Suffolk who replied to a circular issued by Cross, all but eleven saw cases of smallpox in 1819, three had had cases in 1818, two had seen the disease in 1817, and one in 1816. Generally speaking, the disease had been in abeyance in those counties for seven years; a surgeon of Prudham, whose practice covered eleven parishes, had seen no case of smallpox for twelve years before. The largest number of deaths in the practice of any one surgeon was twelve. Twenty-eight surgeons together had 598 smallpox patients, with 97 deaths; but in their districts there had been 180 deaths besides from the same disease, in families unvisited by them.

The accounts of this epidemic in London are most meagre. In the bills of mortality, now become quite inadequate to the whole capital, the deaths rose to 1051 in 1817, fell next year to 421, and in 1819 were 712. But it was in the year 1819 that the admissions to the smallpox hospital were most numerous, namely, 193, the highest number since the epidemic of 1805, when they were 280 in the year. The horny or crystalline kind of smallpox was found in London, as elsewhere[1110].

In the spring of 1818, “smallpox post vaccinationem” was frequent among the boys of Christ’s Hospital[1111]. None of the cases proved fatal that year, but there was a death in the school from smallpox in 1820, probably the last fatality from that cause in the history of the school[1112].

A few casual notices of smallpox in England in the years following the epidemic of 1817-19 lead one to suppose that the disease did not again fall to that apparent extinction which it had reached before the last epidemic began. It is heard of in and around Chichester in 1821; nineteen surgeons who supplied Dr John Forbes with information had seen about 130 to 140 cases, with 20 deaths; about 80 of the cases were in persons previously inoculated with cowpox, 19 cases (or the most of 19) were in persons previously inoculated with smallpox[1113]. This was doubtless the experience of paying patients only; according to the East Anglian precedent of 1819 there would have been twice as much smallpox in families who received no professional treatment. Canterbury is another town from which a rapidly spreading epidemic of smallpox is reported—in the winter of 1823-4. It continued into the winter and spring of 1824-25, among the poor, fatal cases being by no means rare. Dr Carter frequently saw children exposed in the streets of Canterbury with smallpox upon them; he appealed to the mayor to have some check imposed on the spread of contagion, but nothing was done, and smallpox was still prevalent at the date of his writing in the autumn of 1824[1114]. The same year there was a severe epidemic at Oxford. These were probably only samples of epidemics filling the interval from 1819 to 1825, when smallpox again became general.

Extent of Inoculation with Cowpox or Smallpox, 1801-1825.

Twenty-five years had now passed since cowpox became the rival or substitute of the old matter of inoculation. The history at this point requires some notice of the extent to which each of those methods was practised. Professional opinion, or that part of it which found expression, was for the most part in favour of cowpox. The Smallpox and Inoculation Hospital of London took the lead, under Woodville, in substituting cowpox for smallpox, and other public institutions, such as the Newcastle and Whitehaven Dispensaries, quickly followed. The new mode was practised upon larger numbers than the old. At the Newcastle Dispensary the inoculations of smallpox from 1786 to 1801 had been 3268; the inoculations of cowpox from 1801 to 1825 were 20,264. At the Whitehaven Dispensary 173 children were inoculated with smallpox in 1796, the total inoculations before that having been 906. To the end of 1803 the total vaccinations were 490, of which many were done during the severe outbreak of smallpox in 1803.

In Glasgow, where the old inoculation was either little practised or of little use, the Jennerian mode was received with favour, and was offered to the children of the working classes gratuitously at the Hall of the Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons. From the 15th of May, 1801, to the 31st of December, 1811, these public vaccinations numbered 14,500, an average of about 1400 in the year. In the next seven years they declined as follows:

On the revival of smallpox the Glasgow Cowpock Institution was opened on 28 August, 1818, and vaccinated 146 to the 1st of January, 1819. The smaller demand for even gratuitous vaccination of infants after 1812 was owing to the very small amount of smallpox in Glasgow in those years; in the six years, 1813-19, there were said (by Cleland) to have been only 236 deaths from smallpox in a total of 22,060 deaths from all causes, or 1·07 per cent. of all deaths[1115]. Not more than a fourth part of all the infants born in Glasgow had been vaccinated in the years 1812 to 1818, and that was the time when smallpox was at its lowest point among the infantile causes of death. In some of those years when smallpox was in abeyance measles was most destructive. It was currently said in Glasgow that vaccination, if it discouraged smallpox, predisposed to measles, an opinion of the populace which Malthus shared from the à priori point of view. But in a survey of the individual cases in their practice the Glasgow doctors did not find that those were the relevant circumstances, whatever the truly relevant things may have been. Thus, Dr Robert Watt, a good observer and cautious reasoner, who became president of the Glasgow faculty, wrote: “The only family within my knowledge where three died of the measles in 1808 was one where none of the children had been either vaccinated or had had the smallpox. I met with another family where two died in the same circumstances”—that is to say, five children, in two families, escaped smallpox to die of measles, no artificial interference having been attempted[1116].

Manchester was another populous district where vaccination had been freely offered to the poorer classes. Roberton, writing in 1827, says that it had been on the decline for several years, and gives the following figures for the earlier period, May, 1815, to May, 1823[1117]: At the Manchester Lying-in Charity the annual average of deliveries was 2667, while the number of infants brought back for vaccination averaged 1392 in a year. During the same eight years public vaccinations at the Manchester Infirmary averaged 1700 annually. Great numbers of infants were said, also, to have been vaccinated gratuitously by druggists. The decline in the number of vaccinations, which had perhaps begun some time before (as at Glasgow), was shown conclusively by the returns for the two years May, 1824—May, 1826. The births at the Lying-in Charity averaged 3285 per annum; but the vaccinations in the infants brought back to the charity, together with those brought to the Manchester Infirmary, averaged only 1309 per annum.

Newcastle, Glasgow and Manchester were probably favourable instances of the extent of public vaccinations in the first quarter of the century. In London the proportion of vaccinations to births is known to have been smaller, although there was more money going and at one time four public charities—the Vaccine Pock Institution, the Royal Jennerian Society, Walker’s offshoot from the latter, and the Inoculation Hospital. The following were the vaccinations at the Inoculation Hospital in four periods of five years each from 1806[1118]:

At Norwich, Dr Rigby succeeded in 1812 in persuading the Board of Guardians to offer half-a-crown premium to parents for each child brought to be vaccinated. The premiums paid were as follows:

—the annual births being from a thousand to twelve hundred[1119].

At the Canterbury Hospital the applications for free vaccinations fluctuated as follows:

The sudden rise in 1819-20 and again in 1824 was owing to smallpox being epidemic in the city. During the severe epidemic of 1824 there were 250 vaccinations at the Dispensary, besides the 588 at the hospital[1120]. At Kendal the following is the Dispensary record of vaccinations for three years, the annual average of births being 390[1121]:

These are examples of the spasmodic demand for vaccination in the towns. The following is an instance of general vaccination in a village during an epidemic:

The village of North Queensferry, near Edinburgh, had a population of 390. There was an epidemic of smallpox from 14 December, 1811, to 7 March, 1812, during which time 46 children, from one to fifteen years, were attacked, and seven died, the same number that had died in the last epidemic, in 1797. When the epidemic was over there were only nine persons in the village, most of them aged, who had neither had smallpox nor cowpox. Those who had been vaccinated numbered 132; while of those “formerly vaccinated” only two were included among the 46 children who caught smallpox in 1811-12. The adult population must have nearly all gone through smallpox in former epidemics[1122]. These general vaccinations during or towards the end of an epidemic were exactly comparable to the general inoculations by the old method. At Norwich, where a premium of half-a-crown was given to parents for each vaccination, the epidemic of smallpox in 1819 stimulated the practice somewhat, the increase in July and August having followed a public meeting of the inhabitants and a combined effort of the doctors:

Cross estimated that a fifth part of the population of Norwich (50,000) were vaccinated—8000 before the epidemic of 1819, and 2000 during the epidemic. Many of the adults had been through the smallpox in the ordinary way in former epidemics. The state of vaccination throughout Norfolk and Suffolk was indicated in the answers made by ninety-one practitioners to the circular of queries sent out by Cross. Twenty-six had done 13,313 vaccinations during the epidemic of 1819. The whole number in the practice of those ninety-one from first to last had been 120,000, two of the practitioners having vaccinated none.

To sum up, as well as the records enable us to do, the extent of the new practice in the first quarter of the century, it was systematically carried out from year to year among the infants of large towns, such as Glasgow, Newcastle, Manchester and London, and in these the maximum of gratuitous vaccinations in proportion to the births may have been one-half. In smaller towns and in country parishes the inoculations of cowpox, like those of smallpox, appear to have been irregular or by fits and starts, the alarm of smallpox being the occasion for them. But after the epidemic of 1817-19, which was the most general since cowpox had been tried, it was not mere negligence or procrastination that kept parents back, it was distrust of the new practice and preference for the old.

The original mode of inoculation, with the matter of smallpox itself, was far from being supplanted by its rival. In Jenner’s first essay the latter was put forward tentatively, not indeed because of any want of confidence in asserting its protective powers, but because it was only in certain circumstances that a substitute was desired for the old inoculation. Some of those who took up the new matter soon discontinued the old altogether, as at the Newcastle and Whitehaven Dispensaries. At the London Inoculation Hospital the old practice was given up for out-patients after 1807, and for in-patients about 1821. In private practice, tastes or preferences differed. While ordinary people left it to the discretion of their medical advisers, commissioning them to inoculate their children “with either kind of pock,” the upper classes “judge for themselves, and those among them who are philanthropists and converts to the new faith inoculate their own children and those of the poor together[1123].” Moseley, in 1808, said that the “mere operative practice” in cowpox, by which phrase he meant to contrast the academic countenance of it by eminent physicians and surgeons, had been “chiefly carried on by lady-doctors, wrong-headed clergymen, and disorderly men-midwives,” Dr Pearson being named as the only man of letters or pretensions to science who had been practically concerned in it of late[1124].

There was really little to choose between the new method and the old so far as concerned facility of operating; if anything, the inoculation of smallpox was the more difficult of the two, although that also was largely practised by amateurs[1125]. Again, as regards remunerativeness, inoculation with smallpox no longer required the combined services of a physician, a surgeon and an apothecary; it had become a matter of simple routine, just as ill paid (or as well paid, according to circumstances) as inoculation with the matter from the cow. It was not on such grounds, but on grounds of scientific principle or of sentimental interest, that an active propaganda was kept up in favour of the old inoculation. The leading defenders of the latter, such as Moseley, physician to Chelsea Hospital, and Birch, surgeon to St Thomas’s Hospital, maintained that cowpox was alien in nature to smallpox and could not be received as its equivalent. The foreign protagonists, such as Dr Müller, of Frankfort, and Dr Verdier, of Paris, emphasized still more the radical unlikeness of cowpox to smallpox. Said Verdier: “The vaccinists appeal to experience, setting aside all objections based upon the unlikeness of cowpox to smallpox. We are to be made invulnerable by vaccine as Achilles was made invulnerable by being dipped in the waters of the Styx. Protection by cowpox contradicts the received principle of inoculation. It is in vain to appeal to experience against established principles: for true principles are the result of the experience of all ages, and become the touchstone of each successive empirical innovation.”

The English inoculators by the old method gave all sorts of reasons for their preference, and were doubtless actuated by the usual mixture of motives. There were medical families, such as the Lipscombs, who had an hereditary interest and pride in inoculation. It was a Lipscomb who had recited in the Sheldonian Theatre during the Oxford commemoration of 1772, a poem, “On the Beneficial Effects of Inoculation.” Inoculators to the third generation, it was not surprising that the Lipscomb family should have caused to be printed in 1807, as if to shame the changing fashion of the day, the prize poem of five-and-thirty years before, which contained such spirited lines as these:

“When, pierced with grief at sad Britannia’s woes,
Her country’s guardian Montagu arose:
Pure patriot zeal her ev’ry thought inspir’d,
Glow’d on her cheek, and all her bosom fir’d.
She saw the Tyrant rage without controul,
While just revenge inflam’d her gen’rous soul.
Full well she knew, when beauty’s charms decay’d,
Britannia’s drooping laurels soon would fade:
Pierc’d with deep anguish at the afflictive thought
And whelm’d with shame, a heav’n-taught Nymph she sought,
Whose potent arm, with wondrous power endued,
Had oft on Turkey’s plains the fiend subdued.
Obedient to her prayer the willing Maid
In pity came to sad Britannia’s aid.
‘Henceforth, fall’n Tyrant!’ cries the Nymph, ‘no more
Hope that just Heav’n will thy lost pow’r restore:
Let now no more thy touch profane defile
The sacred beauties of Britannia’s isle.
By me protected shall they now deride
Thy baffled fury and thy vanquish’d pride[1126].’”

Still it was just among those classes to whom the argumentum ad nitorem came home most forcibly that the fashion had changed. Before the end of the 18th century, the danger to beauty from an attack of smallpox had become a matter chiefly of historical interest, carrying the mind back to the Restoration or the early Georgian era. The richer classes, while they seem to have countenanced cowpox inoculation as a good thing in general, were probably apathetic on their own account. Lord Mulgrave said in the House of Lords on 8 July, 1814; “If their lordships recollected how many persons of the higher order were reluctant to introduce vaccination into their families, it really must appear to them a harsh and arbitrary measure to lay the poor under the necessity of adopting the practice.” The working class had been manifesting a devotion to the old practice which, indeed, they had never shown so long as it was unchallenged. Perhaps one reason to account for the undoubted preference of the poorer classes for the old inoculation was that they had only lately taken to it. Another was that a good deal of inoculation was done by amateurs of their own class—blacksmiths, farriers, tradesmen and women. A third reason was that the poorer classes, among whom smallpox prevailed most, saw their children take smallpox all the same, and cared little for the scientific explanation that a false or spurious kind of cowpox matter had been used. In October, 1805, a correspondent wrote from London to an Edinburgh journal: “The many late failures of supposed cowpock to prevent the smallpox have excited in some parts so much clamour among the lower orders of people that they insist upon being inoculated for the smallpox at some of the public institutions[1127].” A report on vaccination made to Parliament by the College of Physicians in 1807, deplores “the inconsiderate manner in which great numbers of persons ever since the introduction of vaccination are still every year inoculated with the smallpox.” When, in consequence of the same report, a vote was brought forward in Parliament to give Dr Jenner a national reward of twenty thousand pounds in addition to the ten thousand that he had got five years before, the populace were so angry that one of their leaders, John Gale Jones, himself a medical man, sent a message to Jenner at his lodgings in Bedford Place to advise him “immediately to quit London, for there was no knowing what an enraged populace might do[1128].”

Few particulars remain of the old inoculation at this time. One fact significant of the impression that the criticisms of cowpox had made is that Dr John Walker, director of the Royal Jennerian Society, who pushed “vaccination” among the poorer classes more than anyone in London, was all the while an inoculator in the old manner. He wrote to Lettsom, “I have from the first introduction of vaccination entertained an opinion respecting its nature different from those who suppose it a substitute only for smallpox.... I have, from an early part of my practice, been in the habit of diluting smallpox virus with water previous to its introduction into the system;” and this he had been doing in the name of Jenner, under the influence of a belief that, if cowpox were not smallpox, it ought to be, that it was a pity the disease had ever been called cowpox, and that the name (which was a very old one) “has only served to debase it in the eyes of the common people, and prevent its general adoption[1129].” The very director of the Jennerian institute was among the prophets of the old inoculation.

With the revival of smallpox in general epidemic diffusion in 1816-19 we begin to hear more of the old inoculation. The account already cited of the outbreak at Ulverston contains a table of fourteen previously cowpoxed children whom it was thought desirable during the epidemic to inoculate with smallpox, all of them receiving the infection in one degree or another. A practitioner at Dunse, Berwickshire, not only returned to the old inoculation (thereby incurring “much odium,” as he believed), but actually took his matter from the natural smallpox of his cowpox failures[1130].

When the epidemic reached the Eastern Counties, there were demands for the old kind of inoculation, not in Norwich only, but in numerous country parishes. Of ninety-one surgeons in Norfolk and Suffolk, who answered the queries of Cross, thirty-eight had practised the inoculation of smallpox in the epidemic of 1819; five of them, after having refused many private applications for inoculation in the old way, had at length yielded to the desire of the Overseers of the Poor, and had inoculated whole parishes. Cross’s correspondents also testified that there was much inoculation going on at that time in the Eastern Counties by the hands of farriers, blacksmiths, tailors, shoemakers and women.

Dr John Forbes, who then practised at Chichester, brought to light an exactly similar state of public feeling in Sussex in 1821-22[1131]. In the parish of Bosham there lived a farmer named Pearce who had an inherited skill in inoculating, his father having inserted smallpox into ten thousand persons in his day, without killing one of them. Pearce offered to wager with Forbes a considerable sum that he would inoculate any number of persons and that none of them should have more than twenty pustules. He believed that the smallpox matter became “as weak as water” by an uninterrupted transmission from one body to another.

In November, 1821, the Overseers of the Poor employed him to inoculate the pauper children, and his skill was soon in request for others, so that from two to three hundred in the parish were inoculated by him within a short time. He charged half-a-crown or a crown for each. From other parishes the people flocked to him in such numbers that he inoculated upwards of a thousand in the winter and spring of 1821-22. Before long he had three itinerant rivals, a knifegrinder, a tinsmith and a fishmonger, who claimed to have inoculated together a thousand persons, including four hundred previously cowpoxed. The surgeons of Emsworthy and Havant at length joined in the business, and in the space of six or eight weeks inoculated from twelve to thirteen hundred persons, who had not been previously vaccinated. Forbes also received from his medical friends in and around Chichester “an account of 680 cases of previously vaccinated individuals subjected by them to variolous inoculation.” In the great majority of these the constitutional symptoms were so slight as to be only just observable, the eruption consisting of only a few pustules, which were all that the Pearces, of Bosham, father and son, ever expected to get with inoculated smallpox where no infection of cowpox had preceded. Disappointments with the new inoculation had led to a great revival of the old also at Canterbury, the operators being mostly women.

The same thing happened in Cambridgeshire and in Bucks. In a parish within eleven miles of Cambridge several hundred persons were inoculated with smallpox in 1824, and in April, 1825, a medical practitioner inoculated a number in a village near[1132]. During a severe epidemic in the parish of Great Missenden, Bucks, which followed a general vaccination, and caused a prejudice against the latter, the old inoculation was generally resorted to[1133]. It looked for a brief period, about the time of the epidemic of 1824-26, as if the old inoculation were to return to favour even with the profession itself. Dr John Forbes wrote of the two kinds of inoculation in a studiously impartial manner. Dr Robert Ferguson, who was also destined to make a name, addressed in 1825 a letter to Sir Henry Halford in which he advocated a singular compromise, namely, two inoculations, one with cowpox, the other with smallpox, the cowpox to neutralize the contagiousness of the smallpox for the occasion, while the latter was to be the prophylactic against itself for the future[1134]. This reaction, if it deserves that name, corresponds in time to the great decline in the number of gratuitous vaccinations at Manchester, a decline which had been equally remarkable at Glasgow for some years before. There was at least an apathetic spirit towards cowpox inoculation during the epidemic of 1817-19, and for a good many years after it, while there was something like toleration, even among medical men, for the old inoculation.

The Smallpox Epidemic of 1825-26.

Compared with the epidemic of 1837-40, which was the first in England to be recorded under the new system of registration of the causes of death, the smallpox of 1825-26 makes a poor figure in the records. Yet there is reason to believe that it was an epidemic of the same general kind, if not of the same duration or fatality. At the Newcastle Dispensary far more children in the smallpox were visited in 1825 than in any year since its opening in 1777, namely, 113 cases, with 28 deaths, which would have been a small fraction of all the cases in Newcastle. At the Rusholme Road Cemetery, Manchester, which received about a fourth part of the burials, 112 children, all under seven years, were buried from smallpox in the six months, 18 June to 18 December, 1826[1135]. At Bury St Edmunds smallpox began to be epidemic about the end of 1824, when the guardians ordered a general vaccination, and reached its worst in July, 1825, the type being confluent in many of the cases[1136]. It was in Cambridgeshire villages the same year, and is casually heard of in Bucks[1137]. It had been severe at Oxford and Canterbury in 1824. At Glasgow the prevalence of fever is known for the corresponding years, but the smallpox deaths have not been taken out of the burial registers. The evidence from London is perhaps the best indication that the smallpox of 1825 was one of the more severe periodic visitations.

The extensive prevalence of smallpox was heard of in Paris before the epidemic attracted much notice in London; the news of persons of distinction dying by smallpox in the French capital reads like the old notices of it in 17th century letters. In the same year it was very severe also in Sweden after a long period of quiescence. As to London, Dr George Gregory, physician to the Smallpox Hospital, said[1138]: “It may be inferred that smallpox has been nearly as general in 1825 as in any of the three great epidemics of the preceding century”—the demand for admission to the Hospital being, in his opinion, a fair index; while private information confirmed the estimate of its truly epidemic prevalence, and of its incidence chiefly upon the lower classes[1139]. In the years of the 18th century to which he referred, and in four maximum years of the 19th century, the cases and deaths at the Smallpox Hospital had been as follows[1140]:

London Smallpox Hospital.

While the demands upon the beds of the hospital pointed, as Gregory supposed, to the existence of a great epidemic in London, comparable to those of 1777, 1781 or 1796, in which years the smallpox deaths were returned by the parish clerks at 2567, 3500 and 3548 respectively, yet in 1825 the bills showed only 1299 deaths from smallpox. Gregory accepted without demur the figures of the parish clerks’ bills in 1825, although it is well known that they had become more and more defective, even for the original parishes, since the end of the 18th century[1141]. “But for the general prevalence of vaccination,” he said, the smallpox deaths in 1825 would have been 4000 in the same number of attacks, the difference being in the rate of fatality. His conclusion for all London was based upon the experience of the Smallpox Hospital. The patients received by that charity were of the same class as formerly, most of them being adults, among whom the proportion of fatalities was greater than at all ages. Taking the three epidemics of the 18th century with which he compared the epidemic of 1825 in respect of extent or number of attacks, we find that 25 per cent. of the cases admitted died in 1777, 39 per cent. in 1781 (the seasons were unwholesome by epidemic agues, dysenteries, and typhus), and 33 per cent. in 1796. The average of fatalities at the hospital from its opening in 1746 to the end of the century was about 29 per cent., and that was exactly the ratio of deaths among the 419 patients in 1825. The rate of fatality was a little higher than in the epidemic of 1777, and a little lower than in each of the epidemics of 1781 and 1796. Gregory in 1825 was enabled to separate the sheep from the goats by the dividing line of cowpox, the former dying at the rate of 8 per cent., the latter at the rate of 41 per cent. There are various ways of apportioning a general average. The presence or absence of cowpox scars is one principle, which could not have been used to break up the 25 per cent of 1777, or the 39 per cent, of 1781, or the 33 per cent. of 1796, into two component parts. One thing common to all times is the different rate of fatality at different ages. All the deaths in the 8 per cent. division of 1825 were between the ages of eighteen and twenty-seven; the ages of the 41 per cent. division are written in the books of the hospital. In portioning out the general rate of fatality from typhus fever at the London Fever Hospital, it is found that the dividing line of age is nearly the same as the dividing line of social position; in one table the high ratio of deaths to attacks is among persons in the second half of life, and the low ratio among persons in the flower of their age; in another table the many deaths to cases are among paupers, and the few fatalities among paying patients[1142]. However manifold the cutting up of a general average, some divisions would be identical, corresponding to natural lines of cleavage.

Having indicated the chief points in the vaccination controversy by the instance of Gregory’s arguments sixty years since, (to which might have been added the question of efficient or inefficient vaccination according to the appearance of the scars in after life[1143]), I shall for the rest depart from the usual practice of interlocking the history of smallpox epidemics with the history of vaccination. I shall treat the latter as ex hypothesi irrelevant, leaving it to each reader to incorporate, as matter of his own familiar knowledge or belief, whatever effects of cowpox upon smallpox, whether temporary effects or permanent, modifying effects or absolutely prophylactic, may suit his particular creed. I am led to take this course for several reasons. It leaves me free to look at the epidemics of smallpox from the same point of view as the other epidemics treated of in this work. It avoids a controversy which, unlike that of inoculation, is still actual, and unsuited to a historical treatise. It enables me to omit the excuses for failure, which are apt to be interminable and to usurp the whole space available for the epidemiology proper. Lastly, the irrelevancy which I here conveniently assume happens to be my real belief,—as elsewhere set forth in an examination of the antecedent probability arising out of the pathological nature and affinities of cowpox, and in a study of the grounds on which the authority of the profession was originally given to Dr Jenner’s teaching.

The interval between the epidemic of 1825 and that of 1837-39 was occupied by a good deal of smallpox steadily from year to year in London, the deaths from which, in the following table from the bills of mortality, are to be understood as only a part of the whole, according to the explanation already given:

The inadequacy of these returns will appear from the fact that the 217 deaths in 1837 rose, under the new system of registration, from 1 July to 31 December, to 762, or to fully three times as many for the last six months as the parish clerks returned for the whole year. Their bills had become most defective when they were about to be, or had been superseded; but even on the special occasion of the cholera in 1832 they returned only some three-fifths of the known deaths. Besides these London figures there is little to show the extent of smallpox in England between the epidemic of 1825 and that of 1837-39. This was the time when many complaints were made of the so-called loss of power or strength in the current cowpox matter for inoculation. These complaints appear to have arisen from the greater frequency of smallpox among the cowpoxed, corresponding to the increasing numbers of the whole population who had received that kind of inoculation. “Secondary smallpox,” says a report from Worcestershire in 1833, “has been very prevalent of late years[1144],” the term “secondary” reflecting the teaching of Baron, chairman of the Smallpox Committee of the Medical Association, that cowpox itself was the primary smallpox. The increasing number of the vaccinated who took smallpox was clearly shown in the returns from the Smallpox Hospital of London, and was believed to be in proportion to the increasing number of the rising generation who had been vaccinated[1145].

A generation of Smallpox in Glasgow.

Glasgow had afforded the most striking instance in Britain of the decline of smallpox after the beginning of the 19th century. The decline was observed everywhere, but it was most noticeable in Glasgow, partly because the smallpox mortality of infants at the end of the 18th century had been excessive there, partly because Dr Watt took the trouble to prove it statistically from the burial registers. In the last six years of the 18th century, 1795-1800, smallpox had contributed 18·7 per cent. of the deaths from all causes; from 1801 to 1806, it contributed 8·9 per cent., and from 1807 to 1812 only 3·9 per cent. In the next six years, 1813-19, if Cleland’s search of the registers has been as laborious as Watt’s, the share of smallpox was only 1·07 per cent. of the deaths from all causes, which would mean that Glasgow was hardly at all touched by the epidemic of 1817-19, reported from many other parts of Scotland[1146]. But the lull in smallpox, which corresponded on the whole to the still greater lull in fevers during the prosperous times of the second half of the French war, was broken in Glasgow, if not in 1817, yet before long. Unfortunately there is a break in the statistics also. From 1821 the magistrates caused annual bills of mortality to be published, which did not, however, specify the causes of death until 1835[1147]. But we have some intermediate glimpses of the state of the poorer classes and of the prevalence of smallpox in particular. Writing in 1827, Dr Mac Farlane one of the poor’s surgeons, remarks upon the feeble stamina, sallow complexions, and the like, of all but a few children in the more crowded parts, adding that smallpox both in the virulent and “modified” forms had been more prevalent during the last three or four years than formerly[1148]. Three years after, Drs Andrew Buchanan and Weir gave an account of the state of the poor in Glasgow, which shows that it had actually deteriorated with the growth of the city. The poorer classes had been in some part displaced from their old dwellings in the heart of the town owing to the building of warehouses or the like, and had been provided with no new habitations as good as the old. “Apartments originally intended for cellars, and occupied as such until lately, are now inhabited by large families, and the only opening for light and air is the door, which when shut encloses the poor creatures in a tainted atmosphere and in total darkness. This is well exemplified in the cellars belonging to the houses on the south side of St Andrew’s Street.” Not only the notorious region of the Wynds, containing part of the three parishes of the Tron, St Enoch’s and St James’s, but also the Saltmarket and Gallowgate, were crowded with a destitute, vagrant and often vicious class of people. Many of the houses in the Wynds, with their network of alleys, were only one or two storeys high, in the old Scotch fashion; here were the night lodging-houses, with several beds in one room, two or three persons in a bed, twelve to eighteen people in as many square feet: “the extreme misery of these poor people is utterly inconceivable but to those who have actually witnessed it; it has certainly been carried to the very utmost point at which the existence of human beings is capable of being maintained. Some of them are lodged in places where no man of ordinary humanity would put a cow or a horse, and where those animals would not long remain with impunity.” Buchanan found sometimes a horse, sometimes an ass, sometimes pigs, in the same dungeon with one or more families[1149]. Such was the region in which Chalmers ministered from 1815 to 1822, first in the Tron parish, afterwards in the poor and crowded parish of St John’s. Things got no better, certainly, after he left worn out by his exertions, to become professor at St Andrews. Buchanan thought the best index of the degradation of the people in 1830 to be that not one in ten ever entered a church (if they had, he explains, the respectable congregation would have fled from their filth and rags). “The people are starving,” he exclaims, “and there is a law against the importation of food[1150].” It took sixteen years longer to secure the benefits of free trade, and meanwhile the public health of Glasgow got worse rather than better. The infantile part of it attracted far less notice than that which touched adults, so that we hear little of smallpox, while the records of fever and cholera are fairly complete. When the curtain is lifted in 1835 by the publication of statistics, the mortality of infants and children by infectious diseases is found to be proceeding as follows:

Glasgow Mortalities, 1835-39.

According to the following table of the ages at death from smallpox, it will appear that a higher ratio of infants died of it in their first year at Glasgow than was the rule elsewhere, whether in the 18th or in the 19th century. It was only in the year 1837, when typhus was at its worst and smallpox had somewhat declined, that the deaths by the latter of infants under one year were fewer than those of infants in their second year:

Glasgow: Table of Deaths from Smallpox 1835 to 1839.