True Stories From History and Biography (10 page)

"I am tired of these school-masters and learned men," said Charley. "I
wish some stirring man, that knew how to do something in the world, like
Sir William Phips, would set in the chair."

"Such men seldom have leisure to sit quietly in a chair," said
Grandfather. "We must make the best of such people as we have."

As Cotton Mather was a very distinguished man, Grandfather took some pains
to give the children a lively conception of his character. Over the door
of his library were painted these words—BE SHORT—as a warning to visitors
that they must not do the world so much harm, as needlessly to interrupt
this great man's wonderful labors. On entering the room you would probably
behold it crowded, and piled, and heaped with books. There were huge,
ponderous folios and quartos, and little duodecimos, in English, Latin,
Greek, Hebrew, Chaldaic, and all other languages, that either originated
at the confusion of Babel, or have since come into use.

All these books, no doubt, were tossed about in confusion, thus forming a
visible emblem of the manner in which their contents were crowded into
Cotton Mather's brain. And in the middle of the room stood a table, on
which, besides printed volumes, were strewn manuscript sermons, historical
tracts, and political pamphlets, all written in such a queer, blind,
crabbed, fantastical hand, that a writing-master would have gone raving
mad at the sight of them. By this table stood Grandfather's chair, which
seemed already to have contracted an air of deep erudition, as if its
cushion were stuffed with Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, and other hard
matters.

In this chair, from one year's end to another, sat that prodigious
book-worm, Cotton Mather, sometimes devouring a great book, and sometimes
scribbling one as big. In Grandfather's younger days, there used to be a
wax figure of him in one of the Boston museums, representing a solemn,
dark-visaged person, in a minister's black gown, and with a black-letter
volume before him.

"It is difficult, my children," observed Grandfather, "to make you
understand such a character as Cotton Mather's, in whom there was so much
good, and yet so many failings and frailties. Undoubtedly, he was a pious
man. Often he kept fasts; and once, for three whole days, he allowed
himself not a morsel of food, but spent the time in prayer and religious
meditation. Many a live-long night did he watch and pray. These fasts and
vigils made him meagre and haggard, and probably caused him to appear as
if he hardly belonged to the world."

"Was not the witchcraft delusion partly caused by Cotton Mather?" inquired
Laurence.

"He was the chief agent of the mischief," answered Grandfather; "but we
will not suppose that he acted otherwise than conscientiously. He believed
that there were evil spirits all about the world. Doubtless he imagined
that they were hidden in the corners and crevices of his library, and that
they peeped out from among the leaves of many of his books, as he turned
them over, at midnight. He supposed that these unlovely demons were
everywhere, in the sunshine as well as in the darkness, and that they were
hidden in men's hearts, and stole into their most secret thoughts."

Here Grandfather was interrupted by little Alice, who hid her face in his
lap, and murmured a wish that he would not talk any more about Cotton
Mather and the evil spirits. Grandfather kissed her, and told her that
angels were the only spirits whom she had any thing to do with. He then
spoke of the public affairs of the period.

A new war between France and England had broken out in 1702, and had been
raging ever since. In the course of it, New England suffered much injury
from the French and Indians, who often came through the woods from Canada,
and assaulted the frontier towns. Villages were sometimes burnt, and the
inhabitants slaughtered, within a day's ride of Boston. The people of New
England had a bitter hatred against the French, not only for the mischief
which they did with their own hands, but because they incited the Indians
to hostility.

The New Englanders knew that they could never dwell in security, until the
provinces of France should be subdued, and brought under the English
government. They frequently, in time of war, undertook military
expeditions against Acadia and Canada, and sometimes besieged the
fortresses, by which those territories were defended. But the most earnest
wish of their hearts was, to take Quebec, and so get possession of the
whole province of Canada. Sir William Phips had once attempted it, but
without success.

Fleets and soldiers were often sent from England, to assist the colonists
in their warlike undertakings. In 1710, Port Royal, a fortress of Acadia,
was taken by the English. The next year, in the month of June, a fleet,
commanded by Admiral Sir Hovenden Walker, arrived in Boston Harbor. On
board of this fleet was the English General Hill, with seven regiments of
soldiers, who had been fighting under the Duke of Marlborough, in
Flanders. The government of Massachusetts was called upon to find
provisions for the army and fleet, and to raise more men to assist in
taking Canada.

What with recruiting and drilling of soldiers, there was now nothing but
warlike bustle in the streets of Boston. The drum and fife, the rattle of
arms, and the shouts of boys, were heard from morning till night. In about
a month, the fleet set sail, carrying four regiments from New England and
New York, besides the English soldiers. The whole army amounted to at
least seven thousand men. They steered for the mouth of the river St.
Lawrence.

"Cotton Mather prayed most fervently for their success," continued
Grandfather, "both in his pulpit, and when he kneeled down in the solitude
of his library, resting his face on our old chair. But Providence ordered
the result otherwise. In a few weeks, tidings were received, that eight or
nine of the vessels had been wrecked in the St. Lawrence, and that above a
thousand drowned soldiers had been washed ashore, on the banks of that
mighty river. After this misfortune, Sir Hovenden Walker set sail for
England; and many pious people began to think it a sin, even to wish for
the conquest of Canada."

"I would never give it up so," cried Charley.

"Nor did they, as we shall see," replied Grandfather. "However, no more
attempts were made during this war, which came to a close in 1713. The
people of New England were probably glad of some repose; for their young
men had been made soldiers, till many of them were fit for nothing else.
And those, who remained at home, had been heavily taxed to pay for the
arms, ammunition, fortifications, and all the other endless expenses of a
war. There was great need of the prayers of Cotton Mather, and of all
pious men, not only on account of the sufferings of the people, but
because the old moral and religious character of New England was in danger
of being utterly lost."

"How glorious it would have been," remarked Laurence, "if our forefathers
could have kept the country unspotted with blood."

"Yes," said Grandfather; "but there was a stern warlike spirit in them,
from the beginning. They seem never to have thought of questioning either
the morality or piety of war."

The next event, which Grandfather spoke of, was one that Cotton Mather, as
well as most of the other inhabitants of New England, heartily rejoiced
at. This was the accession of the Elector of Hanover to the throne of
England, in 1714, on the death of Queen Anne. Hitherto, the people had
been in continual dread that the male line of the Stuarts, who were
descended from the beheaded King Charles and the banished King James,
would be restored to the throne. In that case, as the Stuart family were
Roman Catholics, it was supposed that they would attempt to establish
their own religion throughout the British dominions. But the Elector of
Hanover, and all his race, were Protestants; so that now the descendants
of the old Puritans were relieved from many fears and disquietudes.

"The importance of this event," observed Grandfather, "was a thousand
times greater than that of a Presidential Election, in our own days. If
the people dislike their president, they may get rid of him in four years;
whereas, a dynasty of kings may wear the crown for an unlimited period."

The German elector was proclaimed king from the balcony of the town-house,
in Boston, by the title of George the First, while the trumpets sounded,
and the people cried Amen. That night, the town was illuminated; and
Cotton Mather threw aside book and pen, and left Grandfather's chair
vacant, while he walked hither and thither to witness the rejoicings.

"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 mean time, 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 small pox 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

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.