In order to discredit Rowley, it is thought fair policy to connect him with such nonsense, and to have it supposed that he rested his case upon “the cowpoxed ox-faced boy:” it was far otherwise. He diligently tracked the vaccinators, and accumulated 504 cases of smallpox and injury after vaccination with 75 deaths, particulars being accurately specified. Nor was he content merely to report what he had ascertained. “Come and see,” was his forcible argument. “I have lately had under my care,” he wrote, “some of the worst species of malignant smallpox in the Marylebone Infirmary, which many of the faculty have examined and know to have been vaccinated.” His trust in “Come and see,” he still more powerfully exemplified in an exhibition of the injuries inflicted by vaccination in his Lecture Room in Savile Row in October, 1805. “Knowing,” he said, “the caviling character of the Cowpoxers, I determined to leave them no hole for retreat”; and therefore he brought together Joules, “the ox-faced boy, who also had a terribly diseased elbow-joint”; Marianne Lewis, the mangey girl, “who was covered with blotches like a leopard”; “a load of children in a cart from the south of London,” and others accompanied by their parents, and displaying their various maladies, said, “Behold the effects of the new disease that has been taken from the cow and implanted in humanity!” This painful exposition was continued over two days, and as he records, “the scene was truly affecting and distressing to all who witnessed it.” An antagonist like Rowley is a serious factor in any controversy, and we may estimate the havoc he wrought by the extreme anxiety of the Jennerites to have him estimated by the supposed absurdity of the ox-faced boy. To a man of practical temper like Rowley, the enthusiasm with which vaccination was at first advocated appeared akin to delirium-- I have been in some vaccination storms, and have had the buttons torn off my coat, cloth and all, to convince me of the great and infallible excellence of Cowpox. I have seen some of the vehement vaccinators redden like a flame with fury, their lips quivering, their eyes starting out of their heads, their mouths foaming, their tongues dropping hard words, and their fists clenched like pugilists, ready to accompany their violent wrath with other knock-down arguments. In such circumstances, mild, investigating Philosophy quits the scene and leaves the field of battle to the Bedlamites. The fury had subsided in 1805, and Rowley held that many medical men were deeply ashamed of the extravagance into which they had been committed, but lacked courage to make frank confession. Rowley died in 1806, and the regard in which he was held was manifest in the crowds who flocked to his funeral. In the _Roll of Physicians_, Dr. Munk observes--