True Stories From History and Biography by Nathaniel Hawthorne

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 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