The doctor paced up and down the floor of his office trying to make a decision. He thought he had found a way to prevent smallpox, a terrible disease that killed thousands of people and left others with scarred faces or blinded eyes.
He thought he had found a way, but he wasn’t sure. To be sure, he had to experiment on someone who had never had the disease. And if he was wrong, the person on whom he would experiment could get the disease and die or become scarred or blinded for life.
Can I take a chance? He asked himself.
That morning a young milkmaid had come to him with a bad case of cowpox. Cowpox was a disease that looked like smallpox, but it was not dangerous. The doctor discovered that people who had had certain form of cowpox would never get smallpox. The doctor had examined the milkmaid’s sores and injected them into a healthy person, that person too, would never get smallpox.
How can I be sure? The doctor asked himself.
But he knew that he had to make this experiment. If he was right, the world would be free of smallpox once and for all.
He left his office, mounted his horse, and rode through the countryside. At last he came to a small cottage, and through the window he saw a family sitting in a firelit room. It was the home of a workman he knew named Phipps.
When the doctor knocked at the door, Mr. Phipps welcomed him with a puzzled expression. The doctor knew that Mr. Phipps was wondering why the doctor had come to the house when no one was sick. But he invited the doctor to sit down and offered him a bowl of hot soup.
Speaking quickly, the doctor began to tell about his plan.
“I have found an exciting thing,” he said. “A certain form of cowpox will prevent smallpox, I know that for sure now.”
Glancing at his wife, Mr. Phipps rubbed his cheek. “Doctor, I mean no disrespect, sir, but I have had cowpox and smallpox, too, sir. See the marks on my face?”
“Yes, I know,” the doctor answered. “So have many others. That is why I have failed so often to find the right answer. But there is only one kind of cowpox that protects against smallpox. Do you understand that?”
Phipps scratched his head. “Yes, I guess I do, sir.”
“Good! You know, too, that we have tried to prevent smallpox by what we call injection—putting some of the germs into people’s skins.”
“Excuse me, doctor,” Phipps broke in. “Again meaning no disrespect, sir, but both my wife, Jane here, and myself have had that done. Jane’s family has too. But they died from smallpox. And one of our children—“
“Yes, and so did many others,” the doctor agreed. “It all has to do with strength, Phipps. The germs inside the cowpox sores were taken at the wrong time. They must be taken out of the sores when the disease is at its strongest. Otherwise, the injection won’t work.”
Phipps still looked a little puzzled. The doctor continued his explanation.
“A young milkmaid with cowpox came to see me this morning,” he said. “If I could take some of the germs from her sores tomorrow, when the disease is at its strongest, and inject someone else with them, I am sure I could make the person who receives the injection free from smallpox forever. I would have to give two injections. The first one would be the cowpox germs. The second, which would come later, would be the smallpox germs.” The doctor’s heart skipped as he saw the expressions of shock on the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Phipps. “I must do this, Phipps. I must do this, tomorrow.”
Mrs. Phipps fingered her apron with her hands. “Seems like it would be very dangerous,” she said softly.
The doctor looked into her eyes. “I don’t think so, Jane. I am very sure there will be no danger.”
“Who is going to receive these injections?” she asked.
“I need someone who has never had cowpox or smallpox. And I need someone who has never had an injection before,” the doctor answered. “It’s a hard thing to ask you, but Jane, I’d like to try the injection on your boy.”
Mrs. Phipps clasped her hands to steady her shaking. “No, no,” she cried. “Not Jamie. He’s only eight years old.” She covered her face with her apron and cried.
Slowly, the doctor told about a little girl he had seen in London who had been so terribly ill. He talked about the suffering and death of others he had known. He spoke of millions of people in the world who were in constant danger from this terrible disease.
“It isn’t only in our village, Jane,” he said. “Smallpox strikes in places all over the world. Thousands and thousands of people like you and me, thousands and thousands of children like your Jamie, like that little girl in London, could be happy and live useful lives if smallpox can be destroyed.”
Mr. and Mrs. Phipps did not answer. They just stared at the floor.
Then the doctor got up and leave. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I am asking a lot of you. I would use my own son, but he has already had an injection.”
Mrs. Phipps looked up. “Your own son? You love him so little?”
“Jane, I love him so much that I want him to be saved from smallpox,” the doctor answered. “And I have so much faith in what I can do, that I would use my own son before anyone else if I could. Don’t you know me, Jane?” he asked sadly. “I would not willingly risk any child’s life, or my own, or yours.”
Just as the doctor was about to leave, Mr. Phipps stepped his way. “Jane, I think the doctor should give Jamie the injections,” Mr. Phipps said.
“Will you give our boy to him?” Jane asked in horror. “Will you stand by and see our son die because of this?”
“We’ve known the doctor a long time, Jane,” Mr. Phipps answered. “If he’s sure the injections are safe, then so am I. Maybe if we had listened to him before, he could have saved your family, our other child, and all the people from our valley who have died of smallpox. Maybe if he doesn’t do this now, Jamie will never live to grow up. These injections have to be tried. Let us be the ones to give the doctor his chance.” With that, Mr. Phipps turned to the door. “Come tomorrow,” he said. “Jamie will be ready.”
The next afternoon the doctor came to the Phipps’ home. He injected the cowpox germs into Jamie’s arm. There was no danger from the injection. The danger would come with the later smallpox injection.
“Doctor, I’m scared,” Jane Phipps said. “I’m awful scared.”
“Jane, you need not to be,” the doctor said. “When this is over, you will have given your child a wonderful gift of freedom from pain and sickness. Forget your fears and be glad that you could do this for him.”
Two months later, the smallpox injection was given.
Now came the hard part—the waiting to find out what would happen. To Jane and Mr. Phipps, the time was almost unbearable. To the doctor, it was even worse. He watched the little boy with concern he dared not show.
A week passed and the child stayed well.
Another week passed and there was no sign of smallpox, or even of a slight fever.
“We’ve won. We’ve won,” the doctor cried at last. “We’ve brought about a miracle. Smallpox will be gone forever.”
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