CHAPTER V.
THE REJECTED BLESSING.
"COTTON MATHER," continued Grandfather," was a bitter enemy to Governor
Dudley; and nobody exulted more than he when that crafty politician was
removed from the government, and succeeded by Colonel Shute. This took
place in 1716. The new governor had been an officer in the renowned Duke
of Marlborough's army, and had fought in some of the great battles in
Flanders."
"Now I hope," said Charley, "we shall hear of his doing great things."
"I am afraid you will be disappointed, Charley," answered Grandfather.
"It is true that Colonel Shute had probably never led so unquiet a life
while fighting the French as he did now, while governing this province
of Massachusetts Bay. But his troubles consisted almost entirely of
dissensions with the Legislature. The king had ordered him to lay claim
to a fixed salary; but the representatives of the people insisted upon
paying him only such sums from year to year as they saw fit."
Grandfather here explained some of the circumstances that made the
situation of a colonial governor so difficult and irksome. There was not
the same feeling towards the chief magistrate now that had existed while
he was chosen by the free suffrages of the people, it was felt that as
the king appointed the governor, and as he held his office during the
king's pleasure, it would be his great object to please the king. But
the people thought that a governor ought to have nothing in view but the
best interests of those whom he governed.
"The governor," remarked Grandfather, "had two masters to serve,--the
king, who appointed him; and the people, on whom he depended for his
pay. Few men in this position would have ingenuity enough to satisfy
either party. Colonel Shute, though a good-natured, well-meaning man,
succeeded so ill with the people, that, in 1722, he suddenly went away
to England and made Complaint to King George. In the meantime
Lieutenant-Governor Dummer directed the affairs of the province, and
carried on a long and bloody war with the Indians."
"But where was our chair all this time?" asked Clara.
"It still remained in Cotton Mather's library," replied Grandfather;
"and I must not omit to tell you an incident which is very much to the
honor of this celebrated man. It is the more proper, too, that you
should hear it, because it will show you what a terrible calamity the
smallpox was to our forefathers. The history of the province (and, of
course, the history of our chair) would be incomplete without particular
mention of it."
Accordingly Grandfather told the children a story, to which, for want of
a better title, we shall give that of The Rejected Blessing.
One day, in 1721, Doctor Cotton Mather sat in his library reading a book
that had been published by the Royal Society of London. But every few
moments he laid the book upon the table, and leaned back in
Grandfather's chair with an aspect of deep care and disquietude. There
were certain things which troubled him exceedingly, so that he could
hardly fix his thoughts upon what he read.
It was now a gloomy time in Boston. That terrible disease; the small-
pox, had recently made its appearance in the town. Ever since the first
settlement of the country this awful pestilence had come at intervals,
and swept away multitudes of the inhabitants. Whenever it commenced its
ravages, nothing seemed to stay its progress until there were no more
victims for it to seize upon. Oftentimes hundreds of people at once lay
groaning with its agony; and when it departed, its deep footsteps were
always to be traced in many graves.
The people never felt secure from this calamity. Sometimes, perhaps, it
was brought into the country by a poor sailor, who had caught the
infection in foreign parts, and came hither to die and to be the cause
of many deaths. Sometimes, no doubt, it followed in the train of the
pompous governors when they came over from England. Sometimes the
disease lay hidden in the cargoes of ships, among silks, and brocades,
and other costly merchandise which was imported for the rich people to
wear. And sometimes it started up seemingly of its own accord, and
nobody could tell whence it came. The physician, being called to attend
the sick person, would look at him, and say, "It is the small-pox! Let
the patient be carried to the hospital."
And now this dreadful sickness had shown itself again in Boston. Cotton
Mather was greatly afflicted for the sake of the whole province. He had
children, too, who were exposed to the danger. At that very moment he
heard the voice of his youngest son, for whom his heart was moved with
apprehension.
"Alas! I fear for that poor child," said Cotton Mather to himself. "What
shall I do for my son Samuel?"
Again he attempted to drive away these thoughts by taking up the book
which he had been reading. And now, all of a sudden, his attention
became fixed. The book contained a printed letter that an Italian
physician had written upon the very subject about .which Cotton Mather
was so anxiously meditating. He ran his eye eagerly over the pages; and,
behold! a method was disclosed to him by which the small-pox might be
robbed of its worst terrors. Such a method was known in Greece. The
physicians of Turkey, too, those long-bearded Eastern sages, had been
acquainted with it for many years. The negroes of Africa, ignorant as
they were, had likewise practised it, and thus had shown themselves
wiser than the white men.
"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 the 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 mad-
ness 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 burned 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 Boyleston, 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 assafoetida,
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 mere 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 Burner, 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 Burner 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 Bur-net, 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 anything 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 Burner 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 1729. 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."
