Modern preventive medicine may be said to date from the introduction of inoculation for smallpox in the early part of the eighteenth century. It is much more profitable to dwell on the history of the second step in this direction, a far greater one, due to the genius of one man, Edward Jenner, whose Life by Dr. Baron, though not a biographical masterpiece, is the source of much valuable information.

The name of Stephen Jenner had been handed down from generation to generation in Gloucestershire, and the Rev. Stephen Jenner, father of Edward, was vicar of Berkeley when his famous son was born, on May 17, 1749. The father, however, died in 1754, and an elder son, another Stephen Jenner, Fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford, is credited with some attention to his education. But his school life was not prolonged, for about the thirteenth year of his age he commenced preparation for a medical career by entering upon apprenticeship to Mr. Daniel Ludlow, a medical practitioner at Sodbury near Bristol, with whom he remained six years.

Young Edward, when a fine ruddy boy of eight, was, with many others, put under a preparatory process for inoculation for smallpox. This was indeed a formidable proceeding, lasting six weeks. He was first bled, to ascertain whether his blood was “fine;” was then purged repeatedly till the ruddy youth became emaciated and feeble; and all the while was kept on a low diet, and dosed with some drink which was supposed to sweeten the blood. This is appropriately termed a “barbarism of human veterinary practice,” but it was followed by exposure to contagion from others in a state of severe disease. By good luck the boy got off with a mild attack; but we may well ascribe to the lowering preparatory treatment he had undergone, that he never could as a child enjoy sleep, and was constantly haunted by imaginary noises. All his life long he was too acutely alive to these impressions and to any sudden jar.

It is perhaps more interesting, it is certainly more important, to notice the influence exerted upon one mind by another, than to examine the influences of any material objects upon human nature. In this light we may view with pleasure the relations which existed between Jenner, his elder brother already mentioned, and the great anatomist, John Hunter. The ties of affection and esteem must have been strong which drew the young doctor from the attractions of London, from constant association with his admired friend in his studies, from opportunities to inquire such as those afforded by the arrangement of Sir Joseph Banks’s collection made during Captain Cook’s celebrated voyage, from prospects of gain and worldly advancement, to the retirement of a country village, the isolation and the simplicity of rural existence. We can hardly overestimate the benefits derived by the developing mind of the young doctor from his daily intercourse for two years with such a preceptor as John Hunter. The impression was mutual, for we find Hunter years afterwards writing to Jenner, “I do not know any one I would sooner write to than you: I do not know anybody I am so much obliged to.” A correspondence full of interest on subjects of natural history was kept up between them. Hunter’s appreciation of his friend’s attainments was shown markedly when he formed the plan of a school of natural history and human and comparative anatomy, and asked Jenner to come and be his partner in the undertaking. Very many particulars of experiments and inquiries in natural history by Jenner were communicated to Hunter, and were of essential service to him. His most important published paper in natural history was that on the Cuckoo, published in the “Philosophical Transactions” for 1788.

Jenner’s name has been so exclusively connected in the popular mind with the subject of vaccination, that his ability as a practitioner and his originality in many departments of medicine and surgery have been somewhat lost sight of. No doubt this was much aided by his own modesty; but in the treatment of many diseases his views, founded on the improved anatomy and physiology he had learned from Hunter and his own acute observation, were far in advance of his time.

It was perhaps, however, by his sympathetic qualities of heart that Jenner most of all obtained and maintained the influence which he possessed. He could truly rejoice with those that rejoiced, and weep with those that wept. In him uncommon delicacy of feeling co-existed with a joyous and lively disposition; and his gentlemanly manners made him welcome everywhere. He was ever observant of natural phenomena, and loved nothing better than to persuade some friend to ride with him during his long journeys through the countryside. Those who enjoyed the pleasure have described the vivid and imaginative fervour which characterised his conversation, whether in reference to his own feelings or the beauties of the scenery around, and the captivating simplicity and ingenuity with which he explained phenomena of animal and vegetable life which came under notice. In fact he never met any one without endeavouring to gain or to impart instruction.

Among the many proofs of Jenner’s sagacity and acuteness in matters outside medicine should be mentioned the following, recorded by Sir Humphry Davy, showing that Jenner anticipated the late Charles Darwin in his views of the important effects produced by earthworms upon the soil. “He said the earthworms, particularly about the time of the vernal equinox, were much under and along the surface of our moist meadow-lands; and wherever they move, they leave a train of mucus behind them, which becomes manure to the plant. In this respect they act, as the slug does, in furnishing materials for food to the vegetable kingdom; and under the surface, they break the stiff clods in pieces and finally divide the soil.”

His appearance and manner in this early portion of his life are thus described by his intimate friend, Edward Gardner: “His height was rather under the middle size, his person was robust, but active and well formed. In his dress he was peculiarly neat, and everything about him showed the man intent and serious, and well prepared to meet the duties of his calling. When I first saw him it was on Frampton Green. I was somewhat his junior in years, and had heard so much of Mr. Jenner of Berkeley that I had no small curiosity to see him. He was dressed in a blue coat and yellow buttons, buckskins, well-polished jockey-boots, with handsome silver spurs, and he carried a smart whip with a silver handle. His hair, after the fashion of the times, was done up in a club, and he wore a broad-brimmed hat. We were introduced on that occasion, and I was delighted and astonished. I was prepared to find an accomplished man, and all the country spoke of him as a skilful surgeon and a great naturalist; but I did not expect to find him so much at home on other matters. I who had been spending my time in cultivating my judgment by abstract study, and smit from my boyhood with the love of song, had sought my amusement in the rosy fields of imagination, was not less surprised than gratified to find that the ancient affinity between Apollo and Esculapius was so well maintained in his person.”

So informing and yet witty, so full of life, so true to life was his conversation that the chance of sharing it was eagerly embraced, and his friends rode many miles to accompany him on his way home from their houses, even at midnight. His poetical fancy occasionally vented itself in little pieces of verse, one of which, entitled “Signs of Rain,” beginning—

will probably long prove of interest in children’s collections of verse.

Some of his epigrams are very apt, as this on the death of a miser—

Singing and violin and flute playing were favourite amusements of his; and in his later years he would lay aside all cares for a time and sing one of his own ballads with all the mirth and gaiety of his youthful days.

Science and social intercourse were combined in two societies of which Jenner was the soul—one he called the Medico-convivial, which met usually at Radborough, the other the Convivio-medical, assembling at Alveston.

At the meetings of these societies Jenner would often bring forward the reported prophylactic virtues of cowpox, and earnestly recommend his medical friends to inquire into the matter. All his efforts, however, failed to induce them to take it up; and the subject became so distasteful to them that they at one time threatened to expel him if he continued to harass them with so unprofitable a subject.

Dr. Jenner did not marry till March 6, 1788, when Miss Catherine Kingscote, a lady belonging to a well-known Gloucestershire family frequently furnishing representatives to Parliament, became his wife. The union was very happy, but Mrs. Jenner’s delicate health for many years caused great anxiety and needed constant attention.

In 1792 Jenner became M.D. of St. Andrews, with the view of giving up much of his fatiguing general practice. In 1794, at the age of forty-five, he suffered from a severe attack of typhus fever, which threatened to prove fatal. At this time the experiments in proof of vaccination had not been made, and if he had died, the world in all probability might have waited long for the introduction of this great novelty.

Many who learn that vaccination was made known to the world in 1798, when Jenner was forty-nine years old, do not know that the subject attracted his attention in his youthful days as a country surgeon’s apprentice, and that his faculties were ever after engaged upon the matter at every convenient opportunity. He repeatedly mentioned the subject of cowpox to his great teacher, John Hunter, when studying with him in London. Hunter never damped the ardour of a pupil by suggesting doubts or difficulties; but it does not appear that he was specially impressed by what he heard. Yet he made known Jenner’s information and opinions both in his lectures and to his friends. But for many years Jenner’s ideas were poohpoohed by medical and other authorities whom he met in his country practice. They believed many had had smallpox after cowpox, and that the supposed protective influence of the latter was due to something in the constitution of the individual.

Not till 1780 did Jenner fully disclose to his devoted friend Edward Gardner his hopes and fears about what he felt to be his great life-work. He then described to him the various diseases which attacked milkers when they handled diseased cows, and especially that form which afforded protection against smallpox; and with deep and anxious emotion expressed his hopes of being able to propagate this latter form from one human being to another, so as to bring about the total extinction of smallpox.

The exceeding simplicity of the ultimate discovery makes it difficult for us nowadays to imagine the circumstances under which Jenner had to grope his way in the imperfect twilight, and the perplexities by which he was beset in arriving at true conclusions. Both his own observation and that of other medical men of his acquaintance proved to him that what was commonly called cowpox was not a certain preventive of smallpox. But he ascertained by assiduous inquiry and personal investigation that cows were liable to various kinds of eruptions on their teats, all capable of being communicated to the hands of the milkers; and that such sores when so communicated were all called cowpox. But when he had traced out the nature of these various diseases, and ascertained which of them possessed the protective virtue against smallpox, he was again foiled by learning that in some cases when what he now called the true cowpox broke out among the cattle on a dairy farm, and had been communicated to the milkers, they subsequently had smallpox.

It was this repeated failure to arrive at a perfect result which perhaps gave the stimulus that led Jenner to ultimate triumph. The fact that he was on the scent of a discovery which in some form had a promise of indefinite blessing, made him redouble his efforts when most perplexed. He conceived the idea that the virus of the cowpox itself might undergo changes sufficient to deprive it of its protective power, and yet enable it to communicate a disease to the milker. Thus he at last came on the track of the discovery that it was only in a certain condition of the pustule that the virus was capable of imparting its protective power to the human constitution.

Having thus steered his way safely through all the pitfalls which might have destroyed the accuracy of his results, Jenner was able to go on to the next stage, that of putting his theory to the test. It is singular how long he was before he had an opportunity of further experiment. In 1788 he showed a drawing of the cowpox as it occurred in milkers to Sir Everard Home and others in London. Various eminent medical men, Cline, Adams, Haygarth, heard of and discussed the matter, and encouraged Jenner’s inquiries. But it was not till May 14, 1796, that he had an opportunity of transferring cowpox from one human being to another. Sarah Nelmes, a dairymaid who had been infected from her master’s cows, afforded the matter, and it was inserted by two surperficial incisions into the arms of James Phipps, a healthy boy about eight years old. The cowpox ran an ordinary course with no ill effect, and in July Jenner writes to Gardner: “The boy has since been inoculated for the smallpox, which, as I ventured to predict, produced no effect. I shall now pursue my experiments with redoubled ardour.”

Jenner did not, even now that he had attained to certainty in his own mind, rush precipitately into publicity, although his benevolent desires to avert the scourge of smallpox from humanity strongly urged him to do so. Still less did he yield to the temptation to establish himself as a practitioner with a specialty for warding off smallpox, which might have led him speedily to fortune. He was as if forearmed against the stringent requirements which would be made as to the proofs of such a discovery if made gratuitously public. At this time he says: “While the vaccine discovery was progressive, the joy I felt at the prospect before me of being the instrument destined to take away from the world one of its greatest calamities, blended with the fond hope of enjoying independence and domestic peace and happiness, was often so excessive that, in pursuing my favourite subject among the meadows, I have sometimes found myself in a kind of reverie. It is pleasant to me to recollect that these reflections always ended in devout acknowledgments to that Being from whom this and all other mercies flow.”

Until the spring of 1798 Jenner had no further opportunity of pursuing his inquiries, for the cowpox disappeared from the neighbouring dairies. At last he had matured his research, and it was ready for publication. Before sending it to the printers it was most carefully scrutinised by a number of friends at Rudhall, near Ross, in Herefordshire, the seat of Mr. Thomas Westfaling. Their sympathy encouraged him and their judgment approved of his work, which none who read Jenner’s modest and now classic recital, “An Inquiry into the Causes and Effects of the Variolæ Vaccinæ,” bearing date June 21, 1798, can wonder at. Previous to this date, however, Dr. and Mrs. Jenner had been two months in London, experiencing much mortification from the fact that no one in London could be obtained as a patient to be inoculated with cowpox. Dr. Jenner often stated that his patience had been exhausted on that occasion: and it remained for Henry Cline to perform the first successful vaccination in London. Finding that subsequent inoculation with smallpox failed to give his patient any disease, Cline expressed his opinion that this promised to be one of the greatest improvements ever made in medicine; and he begged Jenner to remove to London, promising him a practice of ten thousand a year. Jenner’s sentiments on this matter are characteristically expressed in the following extract: “Shall I, who even in the morning of my days sought the lowly and sequestered paths of life—the valley, and not the mountain; shall I, now my evening is fast approaching, hold myself up as an object for fortune and for fame? Admitting it as a certainty that I obtain both, what stock should I add to my little fund of happiness? My fortune, with what flows in from my profession, is sufficient to gratify my wishes; indeed, so limited is my ambition and that of my nearest connexions, that were I precluded from future practice I should be enabled to obtain all I want. And as for fame, what is it? a gilded butt, for ever pierced with the arrows of malignancy.”

The first lady of rank who had her child vaccinated was Lady Frances Morton (afterwards Lady Ducie). The Countess of Berkeley very early promoted Jenner’s success and ardently advocated vaccination.

A certain Dr. Woodville, eager to rank among the vaccinators, discovered cowpox in a dairy in Gray’s Inn Lane, in January 1799, found that the milkers became infected, and took from them matter with which he vaccinated a number of persons; but contrary to Jenner’s practice, he proceeded to insert smallpox matter in their arms on the third and fifth days after vaccination, as if that could afford a fair trial of the new method. No wonder that the patients exhibited pustules like those of smallpox, and this was the first of the many disasters that arose from the injudicious zeal of Jenner’s first followers. This same Dr. Woodville, in an interview with Jenner in March of the same year, showed himself so little acquainted with the real character of cowpox, that he described it as having been communicated by effluvia; and that the patient had it in the confluent way. Jenner remarked on this: “Might not the disease have been the confluent smallpox communicated by Dr. Woodville, as he is always full of the infection?”

Notwithstanding the mistakes of injudicious friends vaccination began to spread in 1799, largely through the aid of those friends of Jenner who themselves became inoculators—including many who were not medical practitioners. In the same year it came into notice on the continent, the “Inquiry” having become known in Vienna, Hanover, and Geneva. In particular Dr. de Carro in Vienna became its most zealous and judicious advocate, and greatly contributed to the striking diminution in the ravages of smallpox which soon became evident in that city through the introduction and wide spread of vaccination. A little later, vaccine matter was first sent to Berlin. The same year vaccination became known in the United States, Professor Waterhouse of Cambridge, Mass., being the first to appreciate its importance. He as soon as possible vaccinated his own children, and then had one of them publicly inoculated with smallpox; and no infection following, the practice became at once established in the United States. Some contamination with smallpox having taken place by injudicious action as in England, matter was obtained direct from Jenner, and President Jefferson, with his sons-in-law, in 1801, set the example of vaccinating in their own families and those of their neighbours, nearly 200 persons. France and Spain had also followed in the wake, and almost all Europe was now being vaccinated.

We cannot follow the details of the successful introduction of vaccination as by a triumphal progress all over the world, proving its efficacy on men of all colour, of all civilisations, of all climates. Sir Ralph Abercrombie’s expedition to Egypt was the first armed force submitted to vaccination, and its good effects were most evident. At Palermo it was not unusual to see on the mornings of public inoculation at the hospital a procession of men, women, and children, conducted through the streets by a priest carrying a cross, on the way to be inoculated. The medical officers of the British navy in 1801 presented Dr. Jenner with a gold medal in honour of his discovery.

Smallpox was still committing great ravages in India and Ceylon, and Jenner exerted himself to the utmost to transmit vaccine matter to the East. The early attempts all failed, some from accident, such as the loss of an East Indiaman at sea, others from inexperience in sending the virus so great a distance, exposed to such vicissitudes of climate. Dr. Jenner proposed to the Secretary of State to send in some ship to India a number of soldiers who had not had smallpox, and to vaccinate them in succession by appointing a skilled surgeon to accompany the vessel; but those in office could not see the wisdom of this plan. Consequently the noble discoverer resolved himself to do what was so needful, and while seeking to defray part of the cost by a public subscription, he headed it with a subscription of a thousand guineas. But before the project could be matured, news arrived of the successful introduction of vaccine matter into Bombay, in consequence of its successive transfer to Constantinople, to Bagdad, to Bussora, and thence by sea to Bombay. The self-denying enthusiasm of Dr. Jenner is, however, as conspicuous as if his expedition had been fitted out as he intended.

The simple narrative which the great man himself gave in 1801 in a pamphlet only extending to eight pages, deserves reproducing in every account of the discovery. Its simplicity is more forceful than any decorative treatment could have rendered it. “My inquiry into the nature of the cowpox commenced upwards of twenty-five years ago. My attention to this singular disease was first excited by observing, that among those whom in the country I was frequently called upon to inoculate, many resisted every effort to give them the smallpox. These patients I found had undergone a disease they called the cowpox, contracted by milking cows affected with a peculiar eruption on their teats. On inquiry, it appeared that it had been known among the dairies time immemorial, and that a vague opinion prevailed that it was a preventive of the smallpox. This opinion I found was comparatively new among them, for all the older families declared they had no such idea in their early days.”

“During the investigation of the casual cowpox, I was struck with the idea that it might be practicable to propagate the disease by inoculation, after the manner of the smallpox, first from the cow, and finally from one human being to another. I anxiously waited some time for an opportunity of putting this theory to the test. At length the period arrived, and the first experiment was made upon a lad of the name of Phipps, in whose arm a little vaccine virus was inserted, taken from the hand of a young woman who had been accidentally infected by a cow. Notwithstanding the resemblance which the pustule, thus excited on the boy’s arm, bore to variolous inoculation, yet as the indisposition attending it was barely perceptible, I could scarcely persuade myself the patient was secure from the smallpox. However, on his being inoculated some months afterwards, it proved that he was secure. This case inspired me with confidence; and as soon as I could again furnish myself with virus from the cow, I made an arrangement for a series of inoculations. A number of children were inoculated in succession, one from the other; and after several months had elapsed, they were exposed to the infection of smallpox—some by inoculation, others by variolous effluvia, and some in both ways, but they all resisted it. The result of these trials gradually led me into a wider field of experiment, which I went over not only with great attention, but with painful solicitude.”

The great revolution effected by vaccination can scarcely be appreciated in our days, and some testimonies from the past are continually needed. The Rev. Dr. Booker, of Dudley, which in his time contained fourteen thousand inhabitants, testified thus respecting vaccination and its striking effects: “I have, previous to the knowledge of the vaccine inoculation, frequently buried, day after day, several (and once as many as eight) victims of the smallpox. But since the parish has been blessed with this invaluable boon of Divine Providence (cowpock), introduced among us nearly four years ago, only two victims have fallen a prey to the above ravaging disorder (smallpox). In the surrounding villages, like an insatiable Moloch, it has lately been devouring vast numbers, where obstinacy and prejudice have precluded the Jennerian protective blessing, and not a few of the infected victims have been brought for interment in our cemeteries; yet, though thousands have thus fallen beside us, the fatal pestilence has not hitherto again come nigh our dwelling. The spirit of Jenner hath stood between the dead and the living, and the plague has been stayed.”

Many ladies took up the practice of vaccination with zeal and skill. Thus, up to November 1805, Miss Bayley, of Hope, near Manchester, had vaccinated two thousand six hundred persons, and a female friend of hers had vaccinated two thousand. Miss Bayley is related to have carried on her extensive vaccinations with great judgment and precision. She commenced by offering five shillings to any one who could produce an instance of the occurrence of smallpox in any person vaccinated by her. Out of the whole number of cases above mentioned, however, only one claim was made; and on referring to her books, it was found that a mark had been made against the name, indicating a suspicion that the vaccination had not been effective.

Dr. Jenner has often been reproached for encouraging unprofessional persons to practise vaccination: but it should be noted that he never did so unless the person concerned had carefully studied the subject, and could be relied on to follow his directions implicitly. In fact, some of the non-professional vaccinators were more efficient than many professional ones, for these frequently disdained to be instructed by him, and by no means followed the rules he laid down. Thus discredit came to vaccination to a great extent by the mistakes of its professional advocates.

The most extraordinary attacks were made upon vaccination and its promoters, including, of course, most virulent denunciations of its supposed anti-religious tendencies. Opposing doctors detected resemblances to ox-faces, produced in children, as they alleged, by vaccination. A lady complained that since her daughter was vaccinated she coughed like a cow, and had grown hairy all over her body; and in one country district it was stated that vaccination had been discontinued there, because those who had been inoculated in that manner bellowed like bulls.

One mode in which some doctors suffered at the time of the introduction of smallpox is not often remembered. Inoculation with smallpox was largely practised, and some medical men derived a considerable proportion of their income from this branch of their profession. It was stated on good authority that Dr. Woodville, at one time Physician to the Smallpox Hospital, having given up inoculation and largely practised vaccination, his income sank in one year from £1000 to £100; and others who refused to discontinue inoculation and advocate vaccination were more than suspected of interested motives.

The antagonism of vaccination to the so-called designs of Providence was loudly asserted. One Dr. Squirrel on this head maintained that “Providence never intended that the vaccine disease should affect the human race, else why had it not, before this time, visited the inhabitants of the globe? Notwithstanding this, the vaccine virus has been forced into the blood by the manufacturing hand of man, and supported not by science or reason, but by conjecture and folly only, with a pretence of its exterminating the smallpox from the face of the earth.” Again, he denounces “the puerility and the impropriety of such a conduct, viz., of introducing vaccination with a boasted intention not only to supplant, but also to change and alter, and, in short, to prevent the established law of nature. The law of God prohibits the practice; the law of man, and the law of nature, loudly exclaim against it.” Inoculation had been just as bitterly denounced as “dangerous,” “sinful,” “diabolical,” in numerous sermons and medical treatises, when it was introduced, less than a century before this.

No more striking evidence of the beneficial results which attended vaccination, even in Jenner’s lifetime, could be given than those which attended its introduction into Vienna, where smallpox had prevailed severely for centuries. The average number of persons who died at Vienna in each of the first five years of this century was about 14,600: of these eight hundred and thirty-five died of smallpox in the year 1800. Vaccination being introduced and extensively adopted, the number of deaths from smallpox fell to one hundred and sixty-four in 1801, to sixty-one in 1802, to twenty-seven in 1803, while in 1804 only two persons died, and these deaths were not occasioned in Vienna, one being that of a boatman’s child who caught the disease on the Danube, and the other a child sent to Vienna from a distant part of the empire already infected. Yet so long was the practice of vaccination before it spread to an equal extent in England, that nine hundred and fifty deaths occurred from smallpox in London in the last three months only of 1805.

Wherever he might happen to be, Jenner offered to vaccinate gratuitously all poor persons who applied to him at fixed times. The people of one parish, in the neighbourhood of Cheltenham, held back, while the adjacent parishes accepted the new practice to a large extent. But in one particular year the people of the reluctant parish arrived in large numbers to claim vaccination for their children. On inquiry it appeared that smallpox had been among them, causing many deaths, while those of their neighbours who had been vaccinated escaped. Yet it was not this potent argument which had been most influential, but the fact that the cost of coffins and burial for those who had died of smallpox became alarming to the parish officials, and they were moved to urge the people authoritatively to be vaccinated, and so save the parish expenses.

From this time forward for a number of years Jenner paid annual visits to London, remaining there a great part of the season, incessantly occupied in vaccinating, in giving information and instruction on the subject verbally to many medical men, in writing to a vast number of persons who corresponded with him from all parts of the world, for every one who heard of the discovery and wanted to know more about it applied to the discoverer, and in social intercourse with people of note, whom he never failed to impress by his eloquence and perspicuity. We cannot follow here the many incidents which marked these years, his intercourse with royal personages, the addresses of congratulation and gratitude which he received from all kinds of localities and bodies of people, the foundation of the Royal Jennerian Society, and the like. A few, however, must find a place.

A Dr. Pearson, to whom we shall have to refer again, distinguished himself at first as an ardent vaccinator, but subsequently he seems to have imagined himself entitled to much of the distinction which belonged to Dr. Jenner, and in order to secure this, set about forming a public “vaccine board,” in which the chief official status was assigned to himself. He succeeded in obtaining the patronage of the Duke of York and other notable persons. Addressing Jenner on the subject, in December 1799, Pearson says: “It occurs to me that it might not be disagreeable to you to be an extra-corresponding physician.... No expense is to be attached to your situation except a guinea a year as a subscriber, and indeed I think you ought to be exempt from that, as you cannot send any patients.” This was pretty well, one might think, to be addressed to Jenner: in one year after the full publication of his discovery, he was to be shunted off as an “extra-corresponding physician.” Jenner’s answer showed the sense in which he regarded it. “It appears to me somewhat extraordinary that, an institution formed upon so large a scale, and that has for its object the inoculation of the cowpox, should have been set on foot and almost completely organized without my receiving the most distant intimation of it.... For the present I must beg leave to decline the honour intended me.” After some discussion, most of the royal and influential personages who had promised to support Dr. Pearson’s institution withdrew their names from it.

At Brunn in Moravia, where Count Francis de Salm introduced and widely diffused vaccination, the people erected a temple dedicated to Jenner, and annually held a festival on his birthday.

The Dowager Empress of Russia first promoted vaccination in that empire, gave the name Vaccinoff to the first child vaccinated, had the child taken to St. Petersburg in one of her own coaches, placed in the Foundling Hospital, with a provision settled on her for life. In 1802 the Empress sent Dr. Jenner a letter signed with her own hand, with a valuable diamond ring. In fact in all foreign countries vaccination was accepted with more enthusiasm than in England. The proof of this may readily be seen in Dr. Baron’s Life of Jenner.

Meanwhile Jenner had expended a large amount of money out of his fortune, in visiting London, distributing information, giving up to a very large extent his practice at Berkeley, and being by no means recouped by profits of practice in London. His friends at length, seeing that he was now debarred from obtaining from practice an adequate reward for his great discovery, urged him to apply to Parliament for some reward. This was at last done in 1802, and the petition was recommended very strongly by the king, and considered by a committee of the House of Commons. This committee received evidence which unanimously affirmed the importance and practical value of the discovery, and almost as unanimously agreed in Jenner’s originality. Admiral Berkeley, chairman of the committee, said that Jenner’s was unquestionably the greatest discovery ever made for the preservation of the human species. A grant of £10,000 was proposed on June 2, 1802, and after a considerable discussion was carried, as against an amendment proposing to grant £20,000.

It soon appeared, however, that the House of Commons had failed to satisfy the sense of justice of the mass of people as well as of the more eminent members of the medical profession in its grant to Jenner. Sir Gilbert Blane, in an address he drew up on the subject, said: “It is the universal voice of this as well as other nations that the remuneration given to Dr. Jenner is greatly inadequate to his deserts, and to the magnitude of the benefit his discovery has conferred on mankind.”

In January 1803 was founded the Royal Jennerian Institution, under royal patronage, and with Jenner as president, to propagate vaccination in London and elsewhere. This continued its operations for some years with distinguished success; but Dr. Walker, who had been appointed resident inoculator, soon began to deviate from Jenner’s instructions, and to adopt methods calculated in Jenner’s view to bring the practice into disrepute. Consequently the dismissal of Walker was called for, but was negatived in one division, to which Walker had brought in as voters twenty persons who only paid their subscription on the day of voting. By such absurd possibilities are the steps of benefactors to their race frequently beset. The resignation of Dr. Walker took place soon afterwards, but the Jennerian Institution did not fully recover from the effects of the dissension, and on the establishment of the National Vaccine Institution in 1808 it became practically extinct.

Will it be credited that, after the decisive parliamentary vote, for more than two years the Treasury delayed to pay the money, on one pretence and another; and when at last it was paid, nearly £1000 was deducted on account of fees. Akin to this, though the amount was trifling, was a demand made upon Jenner for five pounds admission fees, when the corporation of Dublin conferred upon him the freedom of that city.

Among the multitude of testimonies of appreciation which Jenner received, not the least interesting is one which proceeded from the chiefs of the “Five Nations” of Canadian Indians, the Mohawks, the Onondagas, the Senecas, the Oneidas, and the Coyongas. Their address to him ran as follows: “Brother! our Father has delivered to us the book you sent to instruct us how to use the discovery which the Great Spirit made to you, whereby the smallpox, that fatal enemy of our tribes, may be driven from the earth. We have deposited your book in the hands of the man of skill whom our Great Father employs to attend us when sick or wounded. We shall not fail to teach our children to speak the name of Jenner; and to thank the Great Spirit for bestowing upon him so much wisdom and so much benevolence. We send with this a belt and string of wampum, in token of our acceptance of your precious gift; and we beseech the Great Spirit to take care of you in this world, and in the land of spirits.”

In 1804 one of the most beautiful of the Napoleon series of medals was struck in commemoration of the Emperor’s estimate of the value of vaccination. He was so sensible of Jenner’s claims, that he allowed his petitions for the liberation of British subjects to prevail. Napoleon was about to reject one petition, but when Josephine uttered the name of Jenner, he paused and exclaimed, “Jenner! ah, we can refuse nothing to that man.” Perhaps no more striking example of the extent to which Jenner’s influence extended outside England could be given, than the fact that numbers of persons travelled abroad or on shipboard bearing with them, in preference to a passport, a simple certificate signed “Edward Jenner,” testifying that the persons were known to him and were travelling in pursuit of health, or science, or other affairs unconnected with war. When the great war was over, and the allied sovereigns visited London, Jenner was introduced, among others, to the Emperor of Russia and the King of Prussia, by their special request.

But in Great Britain there were many things calculated to detract from Jenner’s perfect enjoyment. On various occasions the British government were by no means eager to show him a respect and honour equal to that paid to him abroad. When various government officials combined to launch a national vaccine establishment, it was at first stated that Jenner was to be director, with the stipulation that no one was to take any part in the vaccinating department who was not either nominated or approved by him. Yet soon afterwards, out of eight persons nominated by Jenner, six were rejected. Jenner himself was not admitted a member of the Board, which was composed exclusively of the four censors of the College of Physicians and the master, and two senior wardens of the College of Surgeons. In consequence of this treatment, occurring in 1808, when vaccination was so universally recognised, Dr. Jenner resigned the post of director, but was succeeded by his friend, Mr. Moore, who was thoroughly in his confidence.

A picture of Jenner’s inward life at this period, when the subject of a second parliamentary grant was being considered, may here be given from a letter of his:—“As for myself, I bear the fatigues and worries of a public character better by far than those who know the acuteness of my feelings could have anticipated. Happy should I be to give up my laurels for the repose of retirement, did I not feel it to be my duty to be in the world. I certainly derive the most soothing consolation from my labours, the benefits of which are felt the world over; but less appreciated, perhaps, in this island than in any other part of the civilised world.... Cheltenham is much improved since you saw it. It is too gay for me. I still like my rustic haunt, old Berkeley, best; where we are all going in about a fortnight. Edward is growing tall, and has long looked over my head. Catherine, now eleven years old, is a promising girl; and Robert, eight years old, is just a chip of the old block.”

In July 1806 Lord Henry Petty, who had succeeded Mr. Pitt as Chancellor of the Exchequer, carried a motion in the Commons, that the Royal College of Physicians should be requested to inquire into the progress of vaccine inoculation. The College made an inquiry, giving the fullest scope to the opponents of vaccination, and finally reported that, considering the number, respectability, disinterestedness, and extensive experience of its advocates, compared with the feeble and imperfect testimonies of its few opposers, the value of the practice seemed established as firmly as possible. In July 1807 the subject was again debated in Parliament, and a proposal to grant £10,000 was rejected in favour of one moved by Mr. Edward Morris that £20,000 be granted to Dr. Jenner.

The European inhabitants of India were from the first among the most earnest in recognising Jenner’s merits, and afforded him in many ways practical testimonies of their gratitude. About £4000 were transmitted to him from Calcutta in 1806 and following years; from Bombay £2000, and from Madras nearly £1400.

The effects of incessant labours were beginning seriously to tell on Jenner’s health, when in 1810 he lost his eldest son from consumption, in his 21st year. This event preyed much on his mind, and left him in a state occasioning great anxiety to his friends. In the same year he lost his firm friend the Earl of Berkeley, and his beloved sister, Mrs. Black. Under these troubles he felt the more acutely the calumnious attacks to which he was constantly subjected. Dr. Parry of Bath, writing to him about this time, says—“For Heaven’s sake, think no more of these wasps, who hum and buzz about you, and whom your indifference and silence will freeze into utter oblivion. Let me again entreat you not to give them one moment’s consideration, opus exegisti ære perennius. The great business is accomplished, and the blessing is ready for those who choose to avail themselves of it; and with regard to those who reject it, the evil will be on their own heads.”

In 1811 occurred the first well-authenticated case of smallpox in a boy vaccinated by Jenner, the Hon. Robert Grosvenor. The disease became severe and threatened death, when all at once the later stages were passed through rapidly, and a good recovery was made. Other vaccinated children in this family were exposed to the contagion, and did not suffer. There seemed every reason, as Jenner explained, to ascribe the failure of protection in the first case to a peculiarity of constitution which would probably have exposed the patient to a second attack of smallpox. In fact, Dr. Jenner had vaccinated the child when in weak health at a month old. Lady Grosvenor was timid, and prevailed on him, contrary to his usual practice, to make one puncture only; and the pustule that resulted was deranged in its progress by being rubbed by the nurse. Nevertheless the case created much alarm and excitement, and greatly exhilarated the anti-vaccinists. Jenner’s simple answer was to admit the fact, alleging that if ten, fifty, or a hundred such events should occur, they would be balanced a hundred times over by cases of second attacks of smallpox. “I have ever considered the variolous and the vaccine radically and essentially the same. As the inoculation of the former has been known to fail in instances so numerous, it would be very extraordinary if the latter should always be exempt from failure. It would tend to invalidate my early doctrine on this point.”

A letter of Jenner to Dr. Baron on this subject, exhibits perhaps the utmost degree of irritation that he showed. “The Town is a fool—an idiot,” he remarks, “and will continue in this red-hot, hissing-hot state about this affair, till something else starts up to draw aside its attention. I am determined to lock up my brains and think no more pro bono publico.... It is my intention to collect all the cases I can of smallpox, after supposed security from that disease.”

In 1813 the degree of M.D. was voted to Jenner by the University of Oxford. It was expected that the London College of Physicians would have followed suit by admitting him to membership, but they exacted a full examination, which Jenner at his age, and with his reputation, could not be expected to submit to. In the summer of 1814 Jenner visited London for the last time, being presented to the Czar, and having numerous interviews with his sister, the Grand Duchess of Oldenburg. On the 13th September, 1815, Mrs. Jenner died, a calamity which most deeply afflicted Dr. Jenner, and seemed to mark his retirement from active public life. It is much to be regretted that he did not live to complete and publish his own final account, and matured convictions, as to the suitable conditions of vaccination, and the modifications and imperfections to which it was liable. This engaged much of his attention in his later years, but his inquiries were interrupted by illness and by family affliction. His later years were made painful by extreme nervous sensitiveness, and he had several attacks which foreboded death by apoplexy, which ultimately occurred on 26th January, 1823. He was buried at Berkeley, by the side of his wife, on 3d February.

Jenner’s nature, says his biographer, was mild, unobtrusive, unambitious; the singleness of his heart and his genuine modesty graced and adorned his splendid reputation. Had those who opposed him known how little of selfishness, vanity, or pride entered into his composition! He made no answer to aspersions.

“All the friends who watched him longest, and have seen most of his mind and of his conduct, with one voice declare that there was a something about him which they never witnessed in any other man. The first things that a stranger would remark were the gentleness, the simplicity, the artlessness of his manner. There was a total absence of all ostentation or display; so much so, that in the ordinary intercourse of society he appeared as a person who had no claims to notice. He was perfectly unreserved, and free from all guile. He carried his heart and his mind so openly, so undisguisedly, that all might read them. You could not converse with him, you could not enter his house nor his study, without seeing what sort of man dwelt there.”

“The objects of his studies generally lay scattered around him; and, as he used often to say himself, seemingly in chaotic confusion. Fossils, and other specimens of natural history, anatomical preparations, books, papers, letters—all presented themselves in strange disorder; but every article bore the impress of the genius that presided there. The fossils were marked by small pieces of paper pasted on them, having their names and the places where they were found inscribed in his own plain and distinct hand-writing.... He seemed to have no secrets of any kind: and, notwithstanding a long experience with the world, he acted to the last as if all mankind were trustworthy, and free from selfishness as himself. He had a working head, being never idle, and accumulated a great store of original observations. These treasures he imparted most generously and liberally. Indeed, his chief pleasure seemed to be in pouring out the ample riches of his mind to every one who enjoyed his acquaintance. He had often reason to lament this unbounded confidence; but such ungrateful returns neither chilled his ardour nor ruffled his temper.”

Such was the man to whom the world was indebted for vaccination; no court or metropolitan physician, no university student, but a country doctor, a man of science and of benevolence, whose name is undying.