A system of practical medicine. By American authors. Vol. 1

by Unknown

As has already been said, the cicatrix is to a certain extent peculiar in that it is usually depressed and foveolated. Too much stress has been laid upon these features, however, and the truth is that some traumatic scars cannot be distinguished readily from that of vaccinia, while, on the other hand, many a genuine pock leaves no permanent trace behind it. Indeed, in the cow it is the exception for a noteworthy scar to form.

SEQUELÆ AND COMPLICATIONS.—The most important sequela of vaccinia is the fact that it protects the subject against small-pox, and on that circumstance hinges the chief practical interest of the disease. This leads us at once to the subject of vaccination, and therefore under that head we shall pursue our consideration of this curious affection.

Vaccination.

SYNONYMS.—"The new inoculation;" Fr. Vaccination; Ger. Kuhpockenimpfung, Schutzpockenimpfung; It. Vaccinazione; Sp. Vacunacion.

HISTORY.—Before giving the history of vaccination itself (meaning by that term the intentional inoculation of vaccinia for the purpose of protecting the subject against small-pox), it may be well to devote a few words to a practice that preceded it—that of the intentional inoculation of small-pox (or simply inoculation, latterly called variolation). In very early times various Oriental peoples became aware of the fact that small-pox might be very decidedly mitigated by inoculation. This was practised in various ways, all of which may be reduced to the process of inserting small-pox virus into a solution of continuity. Lady Montagu, the wife of an English ambassador to Turkey, brought the practice back to England with her, where it soon made its way into popular favor, and whence it spread rapidly over Europe and America. Thus contracted, small-pox was shorn of a great part of its terrors; the eruption was usually trifling in amount, and in every way the disease was mild as a rule. Still, the mortality was something worth considering, and, worse than that, the inoculated disease was communicable by effluvium, so that an inoculated person had to be secluded carefully for fear of spreading the disease in the ordinary way. In all cases, too, careful medical treatment was thought necessary. On the whole, then, while inoculation was undoubtedly a boon, it was fraught with many grave perils. So great, indeed, were these perils, and so thoroughly were they appreciated, that the practice was interdicted by law in most civilized countries so soon as vaccination had become established in popular favor.

In several European countries the common people—at least those of them who had much to do with dairies—gradually became aware of the existence of the disease termed cow-pox, and of the fact that those individuals who had accidentally contracted it were rendered proof against the infection of small-pox. There is even fair testimony to show that some of these people, particularly the English farmer, Benjamin Jesty, relying on their observation to this effect, employed intentional cow-pox inoculation as a protective measure. These facts, however, do not detract in the least from the credit that all Christendom has awarded to a man who subjected the popular impression in question to the test of scientific investigation, proved its truth, and demonstrated its value to the world. That man was Edward Jenner, an English country physician. It was in the last quarter of the eighteenth century that he entered upon his course of inquiry, and on the eve of the present century he published his demonstration to the world. It was not a discovery; it was not an invention: it was more than either, "a matchless piece of induction," to quote the words of Mr. John Simon. Filled as he must have been with the consciousness of his great achievement, Jenner set this good example to all investigators: that he did not make haste to convert the world; he first convinced himself. It may almost be said, indeed, that, like Minerva from the head of Jove, the rational and perfected practice of vaccination sprang complete from Jenner's hands. Doubt and ridicule he had to encounter at first, and afterward envy and detraction; but the force of his facts and the symmetry of his deductions were such that the new inoculation soon spread through the broad world, and has ever since maintained its sway, save with a few fanatical scoffers.

That vaccination really does protect against small-pox observation has taught the whole civilized world, if we leave out of account the few conscientious and intelligent doubters (made such, doubtless, quite as much by the extravagant statements often put forth by those who from time to time think it incumbent on them to defend vaccination, as by their own misinterpretation of facts) who are to be found associated with the noisy little body of actual opponents of the practice. One of the most injurious statements ever made in the advocacy of vaccination is, that it always protects if properly done. When one of these illogical defenders of that proposition is confronted with an instance that disproves his assertion, he falls back on the allegation that in that instance the vaccination was not properly done. The manifest absurdity of such an argument strikes the doubter most forcibly, and inclines him to say to himself, Falsus in uno, falsus in omne. Unbelief founded on this ground would never have arisen if the plain truth had always been adhered to: that the protection afforded by vaccination is not invariable, and that very often it is not permanent. In the infancy of the practice these facts were not known, but it is now many years since they became obvious to every fair-minded observer. The misapprehension of facts lies chiefly in the false deduction from the circumstance that the great majority of cases of small-pox occur in persons who have been vaccinated. But the explanation of this is very simple. Suppose that, of one hundred persons vaccinated, twenty fail to be protected permanently; that all persons not vaccinated are unprotected; and that throughout the civilized world the proportion of vaccinated to unvaccinated persons is as ninety to ten. Making no pretence of arithmetical accuracy, it may certainly be said that all these suppositions are well within the truth. It follows from them that in a community of ten thousand persons there will be nine thousand who have been vaccinated, and one thousand who have not. Of the former, eighteen hundred will have failed to secure lasting protection. Therefore in case of an epidemic there will probably be a proportion of eighteen cases of small-pox in the vaccinated to ten in the unvaccinated; and yet this should not obscure the fact that of the nine thousand vaccinated more than seven thousand were absolutely protected, whereas of the one thousand not vaccinated not one could escape the disease if exposed to it. When we add the further observation that of the eighteen hundred cases of small-pox among the vaccinated not more than thirty or forty would probably prove fatal, while of the one thousand cases in the unvaccinated about two hundred would end in death, we have a striking demonstration of the efficiency of vaccination. As a matter of fact, statistics show that the figures here given err rather in allowing too little than in asserting too much in favor of vaccinal protection.

The question naturally arises, Why it is that vaccination protects some persons and does not protect others?—reference being had, of course, to permanent protection, for it is exceedingly rare for temporary immunity to be attained if we exclude those instances in which the variolous infection has taken place before the operation is resorted to. This question cannot be answered with any certainty, but various theories have been brought forward, some of which call for notice.

In the first place, it has been thought that the revolution of the system termed puberty was fraught with such a radical change as to do away with the mild modification due to vaccination. While this theory has an air of plausibility, it seems to lack proof and not to be upheld by analogy, for we do not find that children who have had scarlet fever, measles, and the like often undergo those diseases a second time on arriving at the age of puberty.