Experiments on Animals. Stephen Paget
how it was continued through all his Edinburgh and Glasgow life:—
"After being appointed to the Chair of Surgery in the University of Glasgow, I became one of the surgeons to the Royal Infirmary of that city. Here I had, too, ample opportunities for studying hospital diseases, of which the most fearful was pyæmia. About this time I saw the opinion expressed by a high authority in pathology that the pus in a pyæmic vein was probably a collection of leucocytes. Facts such as those which I mentioned as having aroused my interest in my student days in a case of pyæmia, made such a view to me incredible; and I determined to ascertain, if possible, the real state of things by experiment. …
"While these investigations into the nature of pyæmia were proceeding, I was doing my utmost against that deadly scourge. Professor Polli, of Milan, having recommended the internal administration of sulphite of potash on account of its antiputrescent properties, I gave that drug a very full trial as a prophylactic. … At the same time, I did my best, by local measures, to diminish the risk of communicating contagion from one wound to another. I freely employed antiseptic washes, and I had on the tables of my wards piles of clean towels to be used for drying my hands and those of my assistants after washing them, as I insisted should invariably be done in passing from one dressing to another. But all my efforts proved abortive; as I could hardly wonder when I believed, with chemists generally, that putrefaction was caused by the oxygen of the air.
"It will thus be seen that I was prepared to welcome Pasteur's demonstration that putrefaction, like other true fermentations, is caused by microbes growing in the putrescible substance. Thus was presented a new problem: not to exclude oxygen from the wounds, which was impossible, but to protect them from the living causes of decomposition by means which should act with as little disturbance of the tissues as is consistent with the attainment of the essential object. … To apply that principle, so as to ensure the greatest safety with the least attendant disadvantage, has been my chief life-work."[12]
And, of course, the application of that principle is not limited to the performance of the major operations of surgery. It is in daily use in every hospital, and in every practice all the world over, for the safe and quick healing of whole legions of injuries, "casualties," and minor operations.
But what of Semmelweis, and his study of puerperal fever? Did he not, before Lord Lister, and without the help of experiments on animals, discover antiseptic surgery? His claim is urged by those who are opposed to all such experiments. And the answer is, that his work was lost just for want of experiments on animals. If he could have demonstrated, as Pasteur did, the living organism, the thing itself, there in the tissues of an infected rabbit, and in a test-tube, and under a microscope, he might have stopped the mouths of his adversaries. He could not. He could only demonstrate to them the fact that their patients died, and his patients lived: and that some sort of direct infection was the cause of the deaths. The tragedy of his life cannot be told too often, and may be told again here.[13] For want of the final proof that bacteriology, and the inoculation of animals, alone could give, he was unable to hold out against his enemies till Pasteur could rescue him.
In 1846, when he was twenty-three years old, Ignaz Semmelweis was appointed assistant-professor in the maternity department of the huge general hospital of Vienna. For many years, the mortality in the lying-in wards had been about 1.25 per cent., and no more. Then, under a new professor, it had risen; and, for some years before Semmelweis came on the scene, it had been 5 per cent., or even 7 per cent. In October 1841, there had been an epidemic that had lasted till May 1843. In these twenty months, out of 5139 women delivered, 829 had died; that is to say, 16 per cent.
There were two sets of wards in the maternity department. The one set may be called Clinique A, and the other Clinique B. For many years, the mortality had been the same in each. In 1841 a change was made: Clinique A was assigned to the teaching of students, and Clinique B to the teaching of midwives: and, so soon as this change had been made, the mortality in Clinique B became less, but the mortality in Clinique A did not. Commissions of inquiry were held, and in vain. It was suggested that the foreign students were somehow to blame, nobody knew why; and many of them were sent away. Still the deaths went on. Women admitted to Clinique A would go down on their knees and pray to be allowed to go home; almost every day the bell was heard ringing in the wards, for the administration of the Sacrament to a dying woman. People talked about atmospheric influences, and overcrowding, and the tainted air of old wards, and the power of the mind over the body: and Semmelweis set to work.
He observed that cases of protracted labour in Clinique A died, almost all of them; but not in Clinique B. He observed also that cases of premature labour, nearly all of them, did well, whichever Clinique they were in; so did those women who were delivered before they came to the hospital, and were admitted after delivery. He observed also that a row of patients, lying side by side, would all be attacked at once in Clinique A; which never happened in Clinique B. He tried everything: he altered the details of treatment; he used various subterfuges to prevent one of the professors from examining serious cases; he enforced this or that rule in Clinique A, because it was the custom in Clinique B; he slaved away at the notes of the cases—and at last the truth came to him, by the death of one of his friends from a dissection-wound. He says, "My friend's fatal symptoms unveiled to my mind an identity with those which I had so often noticed at the deathbeds of puerperal cases." He saw now that the students, coming straight from the dissecting-rooms, had infected the patients during examination.
In May 1847 he gave orders that every student, before examining, should thoroughly disinfect his hands. But, though he had reckoned with dissecting-room poisons, he had forgotten to reckon with other sources of infection. In October of that year, a woman was admitted who had malignant disease; of twelve women examined after her, eleven got puerperal fever, and died. In November, a woman was admitted who had a suppurating knee-joint, with sinuses; and eight women were infected from her, and died. Therefore Semmelweis said, "Not only can the particles from dead bodies generate puerperal fever, but any decomposed material from the living body can also generate it, and so can air contaminated by such materials." Henceforth he isolated all infected cases, he enforced the strict use of disinfectants: and the mortality in Clinique A, which in May 1847 had stood at 12.24 per cent., fell in December to 3.04, and in 1848 was 1.27.
His work was taken up with enthusiasm by Hebra, Skoda, and Haller; the news of it was sent to every capital in Europe. In February 1849 Haller read a paper on it before the Medical Society of Vienna, and said, "The importance of these observations is above all calculation, both for the maternity department and for the hospitals in general, but particularly for the surgical wards." A committee was nominated to report on the whole matter; but it was opposed by the professor in charge of Clinique A, and nothing came of it. In May 1850, Semmelweis opened a great debate on puerperal fever, which occupied three sittings of the Vienna Medical Society. His opponents were there in full force, all the Scribes and Pharisees of the profession. They brought about a vague distrust of his figures and his facts; they got people to believe that there must be "something else" in puerperal fever, as well as the local infection. Semmelweis began to be discouraged. The University authorities made a dead set against him—they refused to renew his appointment, they got him out of the hospital, and out of Vienna. He went to Pesth, and was Professor of Midwifery there; but the same opposition and hostility were at Pesth as at Vienna. Slowly he began to lose his hold over himself, went down hill, became excitable and odd. The end came in July 1865. At a meeting of University professors, he suddenly took a paper from his pocket and read aloud to them a solemn oath, to be enforced on every midwife and every doctor. His mind had given way: he was moved to an asylum at Vienna, and died there a few weeks later. He was only forty-two when he died—What a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me.
The contrast between the work of Semmelweis and the work of Pasteur cuts like a knife here. The failure of Semmelweis' teaching may be estimated by the fact that it had all to be done over again. The year of his success at Vienna was 1848. Eight years later, in the Paris Maternity Hospital, between 1st April and 10th May 1856, came such an outbreak of puerperal fever that out of 347 patients 64 died. In 1864, out of 1350 cases, 310 deaths. In Jan.-Feb. 1866, out of 103 cases, 28 deaths: "Women of the lower classes looked upon the Maternité as the vestibule of death." In 1877–78, came the use of carbolic acid and perchloride of mercury at