True Stories From History and Biography (11 page)

"Of a truth," ejaculated Cotton Mather, clasping his hands and looking up
to Heaven, "it was a merciful Providence that brought this book under mine
eye! I will procure a consultation of physicians, and see whether this
wondrous Inoculation may not stay the progress of the Destroyer."

So he arose from Grandfather's chair, and went out of the library. Near
the door he met his son Samuel, who seemed downcast and out of spirits.
The boy had heard, probably, that some of his playmates were taken ill
with the small pox. But, as his father looked cheerfully at him, Samuel
took courage, trusting that either the wisdom of so learned a minister
would find some remedy for the danger, or else that his prayers would
secure protection from on high.

Meanwhile, Cotton Mather took his staff and three-cornered hat, and walked
about the streets, calling at the houses of all the physicians in Boston.
They were a very wise fraternity; and their huge wigs, and black dresses,
and solemn visages, made their wisdom appear even profounder than it was.
One after another, he acquainted them with the discovery which he had hit
upon.

But these grave and sagacious personages would scarcely listen to him. The
oldest doctor in town contented himself with remarking, that no such thing
as inoculation was mentioned by Galen or Hippocrates, and it was
impossible that modern physicians should be wiser than those old sages. A
second held up his hands in dumb astonishment and horror, at the madness
of what Cotton Mather proposed to do. A third told him, in pretty plain
terms, that he knew not what he was talking about. A fourth requested, in
the name of the whole medical fraternity, that Cotton Mather would confine
his attention to people's souls, and leave the physicians to take care of
their bodies.

In short, there was but a single doctor among them all, who would grant
the poor minister so much as a patient hearing. This was Doctor Zabdiel
Boylston. He looked into the matter like a man of sense, and finding,
beyond a doubt, that inoculation had rescued many from death, he resolved
to try the experiment in his own family.

And so he did. But, when the other physicians heard of it, they arose in
great fury, and began a war of words, written, printed, and spoken,
against Cotton Mather and Doctor Boylston. To hear them talk, you would
have supposed that these two harmless and benevolent men had plotted the
ruin of the country.

The people, also, took the alarm. Many, who thought themselves more pious
than their neighbors, contended, that, if Providence had ordained them to
die of the small pox, it was sinful to aim at preventing it. The strangest
reports were in circulation. Some said, that Doctor Boylston had contrived
a method for conveying the gout, rheumatism, sick headache, asthma, and
all other diseases, from one person to another, and diffusing them through
the whole community. Others flatly affirmed that the Evil One had got
possession of Cotton Mather, and was at the bottom of the whole business.

You must observe, children, that Cotton Mather's fellow citizens were
generally inclined to doubt the wisdom of any measure, which he might
propose to them. They recollected how he had led them astray in the old
witchcraft delusion; and now, if he thought and acted ever so wisely, it
was difficult for him to get the credit of it.

The people's wrath grew so hot at his attempt to guard them from the small
pox, that he could not walk the streets in peace. Whenever the venerable
form of the old minister, meagre and haggard with fasts and vigils, was
seen approaching, hisses were heard, and shouts of derision, and scornful
and bitter laughter. The women snatched away their children from his path,
lest he should do them a mischief. Still, however, bending his head
meekly, and perhaps stretching out his hands to bless those who reviled
him, he pursued his way. But the tears came into his eyes, to think how
blindly the people rejected the means of safety, that were offered them.

Indeed, there were melancholy sights enough in the streets of Boston, to
draw forth the tears of a compassionate man. Over the door of almost every
dwelling, a red flag was fluttering in the air. This was the signal that
the small pox had entered the house, and attacked some member of the
family; or perhaps the whole family, old and young, were struggling at
once with the pestilence. Friends and relatives, when they met one another
in the streets, would hurry onward without a grasp of the hand, or
scarcely a word of greeting, lest they should catch or communicate the
contagion. And, often a coffin was borne hastily along.

"Alas, alas!" said Cotton Mather to himself. "What shall be done for this
poor, misguided people? Oh, that Providence would open their eyes, and
enable them to discern good from evil!"

So furious, however, were the people, that they threatened vengeance
against any person who should dare to practise inoculation, though it were
only in his own family. This was a hard case for Cotton Mather, who saw no
other way to rescue his poor child Samuel from the disease. But he
resolved to save him, even if his house should be burnt over his head.

"I will not be turned aside," said he. "My townsmen shall see that I have
faith in this thing, when I make the experiment on my beloved son, whose
life is dearer to me than my own. And when I have saved Samuel,
peradventure they will be persuaded to save themselves."

Accordingly, Samuel was inoculated; and so was Mr. Walter, a son-in-law of
Cotton Mather. Doctor Boylston, likewise, inoculated many persons; and
while hundreds died, who had caught the contagion from the garments of the
sick, almost all were preserved, who followed the wise physician's advice.

But the people were not yet convinced of their mistake. One night, a
destructive little instrument, called a hand-grenade, was thrown into
Cotton Mather's window, and rolled under Grandfather's chair. It was
supposed to be filled with gunpowder, the explosion of which would have
blown the poor minister to atoms. But the best-informed historians are of
opinion, that the grenade contained only brimstone and assaf[oe]tida, and
was meant to plague Cotton Mather with a very evil perfume.

This is no strange thing in human experience. Men, who attempt to do the
world more good, than the world is able entirely to comprehend, are almost
invariably held in bad odor. But yet, if the wise and good man can wait
awhile, either the present generation or posterity, will do him justice.
So it proved, in the case which we have been speaking of. In after years,
when inoculation was universally practised, and thousands were saved from
death by it, the people remembered old Cotton Mather, then sleeping in his
grave. They acknowledged that the very thing, for which they had so
reviled and persecuted him, was the best and wisest thing he ever did.

"Grandfather, this is not an agreeable story," observed Clara.

"No, Clara," replied Grandfather. "But it is right that you should know
what a dark shadow this disease threw over the times of our forefathers.
And now, if you wish to learn more about Cotton Mather, you must read his
biography, written by Mr. Peabody, of Springfield. You will find it very
entertaining and instructive; but perhaps the writer is somewhat too harsh
in his judgment of this singular man. He estimates him fairly, indeed, and
understands him well; but he unriddles his character rather by acuteness
than by sympathy. Now, his life should have been written by one, who,
knowing all his faults, would nevertheless love him."

So Grandfather made an end of Cotton Mather, telling his auditors that he
died in 1728, at the age of sixty-five, and bequeathed the chair to Elisha
Cooke. This gentleman was a famous advocate of the people's rights.

The same year, William Burnet, a son of the celebrated Bishop Burnet,
arrived in Boston, with the commission of governor. He was the first that
had been appointed since the departure of Colonel Shute. Governor Burnet
took up his residence with Mr. Cooke, while the Province House was
undergoing repairs. During this period, he was always complimented with a
seat in Grandfather's chair; and so comfortable did he find it, that on
removing to the Province House, he could not bear to leave it behind him.
Mr. Cooke, therefore, requested his acceptance of it.

"I should think," said Laurence, "that the people would have petitioned
the king always to appoint a native-born New Englander to govern them."

"Undoubtedly it was a grievance," answered Grandfather, "to see men placed
in this station, who perhaps had neither talents nor virtues to fit them
for it, and who certainly could have no natural affection for the country.
The king generally bestowed the governorships of the American colonies
upon needy noblemen, or hangers-on at court, or disbanded officers. The
people knew that such persons would be very likely to make the good of the
country subservient to the wishes of the king. The legislature, therefore,
endeavored to keep as much power as possible in their own hands, by
refusing to settle a fixed salary upon the governors. It was thought
better to pay them according to their deserts."

"Did Governor Burnet work well for his money?" asked Charley.

Grandfather could not help smiling at the simplicity of Charley's
question. Nevertheless, it put the matter in a very plain point of view.

He then described the character of Governor Burnet, representing him as a
good scholar, possessed of much ability, and likewise of unspotted
integrity. His story affords a striking example, how unfortunate it is for
a man, who is placed as ruler over a country, to be compelled to aim at
any thing but the good of the people. Governor Burnet was so chained down
by his instructions from the king, that he could not act as he might
otherwise have wished. Consequently, his whole term of office was wasted
in quarrels with the legislature.

"I am afraid, children," said Grandfather, "that Governor Burnet found but
little rest or comfort in our old chair. Here he used to sit, dressed in a
coat which was made of rough, shaggy cloth outside, but of smooth velvet
within. It was said that his own character resembled that coat, for his
outward manner was rough, but his inward disposition soft and kind. It is
a pity that such a man could not have been kept free from trouble. But so
harassing were his disputes with the representatives of the people, that
he fell into a fever, of which he died, in 1720. The legislature had
refused him a salary, while alive; but they appropriated money enough to
give him a splendid and pompous funeral."

And now Grandfather perceived that little Alice had fallen fast asleep,
with her head upon his footstool. Indeed, as Clara observed, she had been
sleeping from the time of Sir Hovenden Walker's expedition against Quebec,
until the death of Governor Burnet—a period of about eighteen years. And
yet, after so long a nap, sweet little Alice was a golden-haired child, of
scarcely five years old.

"It puts me in mind," said Laurence, "of the story of the enchanted
princess, who slept many a hundred years, and awoke as young and beautiful
as ever."

A few evenings afterwards, cousin Clara happened to inquire of
Grandfather, whether the old chair had never been present at a ball. At
the same time, little Alice brought forward a doll, with whom she had been
holding a long conversation.

"See, Grandfather," cried she. "Did such a pretty lady as this ever sit in
your great chair?"

These questions led Grandfather to talk about the fashions and manners,
which now began to be introduced from England into the provinces. The
simplicity of the good old Puritan times was fast disappearing. This was
partly owing to the increasing number and wealth of the inhabitants, and
to the additions which they continually received, by the arrival and
settlement of people from beyond the sea.

Another cause of a pompous and artificial mode of life, among those who
could afford it, was, that the example was set by the royal governors.
Under the old charter, the governors were the representatives of the
people, and therefore their way of living had probably been marked by a
popular simplicity. But now, as they represented the person of the king,
they thought it necessary to preserve the dignity of their station, by the
practice of high and gorgeous ceremonials. And, besides, the profitable
offices under the government were filled by men who had lived in London,
and had there contracted fashionable and luxurious habits of living, which
they would not now lay aside. The wealthy people of the province imitated
them; and thus began a general change in social life.

"So, my dear Clara," said Grandfather, "after our chair had entered the
Province House, it must often have been present at balls and festivals,
though I cannot give you a description of any particular one. But I doubt
not that they were very magnificent; and slaves in gorgeous liveries
waited on the guests, and offered them wine in goblets of massive silver."

"Were there slaves in those days?" exclaimed Clara.

"Yes; black slaves and white," replied Grandfather. "Our ancestors not
only bought negroes from Africa, but Indians from South America, and white
people from Ireland. These last were sold, not for life, but for a certain
number of years, in order to pay the expenses of their voyage across the
Atlantic. Nothing was more common than to see a lot of likely Irish girls,
advertised for sale in the newspapers. As for the little negro babies,
they were offered to be given away, like young kittens."

"Perhaps Alice would have liked one to play with, instead of her doll,"
said Charley, laughing.

But little Alice clasped the waxen doll closer to her bosom.

"Now, as for this pretty doll, my little Alice," said Grandfather, "I wish
you could have seen what splendid dresses the ladies wore in those times.
They had silks, and satins, and damasks, and brocades, and high
head-dresses, and all sorts of fine things. And they used to wear
hooped-petticoats, of such enormous size that it was quite a journey to
walk round them."