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._