P A U L R E V E R E A nd I Blog
Mitch Lapin: Mr. Revere, how did you manage to defy the selectmen when your daughter developed smallpox and they ordered her to be sent to a pest house on Spectacle island?
Response: "I was furious when faced with the threat of my family being sent away."
When smallpox broke out in Boston in February 1764, one of Revere's young children (either Deborah, Paul Jr., or Sarah) came down with the virus. To prevent the disease from spreading across the city, Boston’s board of selectmen strongly urged Revere to send his sick child to the town’s "pesthouse."
Revere flatly refused to hand over his child.
Why He Was So Angry and Resistant
A Pesthouse Was a Near Death Sentence: In the 18th century, pest houses were notorious for poor sanitation, minimal care, and high mortality rates. Sending a child to an island quarantine meant handing them over to a miserable environment where their chances of survival dropped dramatically.
Loss of Parental Control: For a fiercely independent man like Revere, the government demanding custody of his sick young child was an intolerable intrusion on his role as a provider and father.
Inoculation, perfected in Africa, had been practiced in Boston by Doctor Boylston since 1721: resisted by more formally trained doctors.
The Compromise: A Household Lockdown
Unable to move the child to the island, the selectmen instead ordered a strict quarantine of Revere's entire household.
They posted guards outside his Fish Street home in the North End, shut down his silversmith shop, and forced Revere, his wife Sarah, and all their young children to isolate together indoors for months.
While the lockdown brought his business to a complete standstill and ruined him financially for that spring, Revere considered it a price worth paying. His gamble paid off: his sick child recovered, none of his other family members died from the outbreak, and the family survived the epidemic intact.
Mitch Lapin: Mr. Revere how did you business survive a long shutdown? "Mr. Lapin, it failed. But I was proven correct, in end, my daughter survived and theatre was no further outbreak among my family. During the 1721 epidemic 844 Bostonians died of smallpox. Over five-thousand were infected. That's about 30 percent. I made the only correct decision. Perhaps in time the town will understand my full contribution to Boston society. When we have time, not today, let's talk about my service as the town's health official and the cholera epidemic. Sorry, Mr. Lapin it is 11:00 o'clock in the morning and my copper welders are expecting their ration of rum and a brief respite.
Mr. Lapin: Pray, Mr. Revere, by what means did you set yourself in opposition to the Selectmen, when your young daughter was struck with the Small-Pox, and they ordered that she be conveyed straightway to the Pest-House upon Spectacle Island?
Mr. Revere: "Sir, my blood was stirred to exceeding wrath when confronted with so cruel a threat—that my own flesh and blood should be torn from my hearth and sent into exile."
When the dreadful Small-Pox broke forth in the Town of Boston in the month of February, Anno Domini 1764, one of Mr. Revere’s tender offspring (be it Deborah, Paul the younger, or Sarah) fell afflicted with that foul distemper. To hinder the pestilence from spreading amongst the inhabitants of the Town, the Board of Selectmen did most urgently press Mr. Revere to yield his ailing child unto the Town’s Pest-House.
Mr. Revere And I and me.
Mr. Revere, however, did you flatly refuse to surrender the infant into their custody.
Wherefore His Anger and Resistance Were So Great
The Pest-House Was a Virtual Place of Execution: In those times, such quarantine-houses were infamous for their foul air, wretched neglect, and fearful mortality. To banish a child to an island pest-house was to deliver her into a miserable sepulchre, where her hopes of recovery were well-nigh extinguished.
The Infringement Upon Parental Authority: To a man of so unyielding and independent a spirit as Mr. Revere, that the Magistrates should demand the custody of his sick child was an insupportable grievance—an arbitrary invasion of his sacred duty as a father and protector.
The Practice of Inoculation: This sovereign preventative, perfected amongst the Africans, had been employed in Boston by Dr. Zabdiel Boylston since the year 1721, though much decried and resisted by the formal Practitioners of Physic.
The Compromise: A Household Confinement
The Selectmen, finding themselves unable to remove the child unto Spectacle Island, did instead lay a strict Injunction of Confinement upon the whole of Mr. Revere’s household.
They stationed Guards before his Dwelling-House in Fish Street, within the North End, closed up the doors of his Silversmith Shop, and compelled Mr. Revere, his wife Sarah, and all their little ones to remain closely shut up indoors for the space of several months.
Though this Blockade brought his Trade to a total stand and brought upon him grievous financial Ruin for that Spring, Mr. Revere accounted it a small price to pay. And his resolve was amply justified by the Event: his sick child was restored to health, no other soul beneath his roof perished of the contagion, and his entire Family survived the Epidemic whole and unharmed.
Mr. Lapin: Mr. Revere, in what manner did your Enterprise survive so long and ruinous a Ceasing of Trade?
Mr. Revere: "Mr. Lapin, my Trade did not survive; it failed utterly. Yet was I proven right in the end, for my daughter was preserved alive, and no further contagion broke out among my Household. During the dreadful Epidemic of 1721, eight hundred and forty-four Bostonians were carried to their Graves by the Small-Pox, and upwards of five thousand were infected—amounting to near thirty per centum of our whole Town. I made the only sound Choice that a Christian Father could make. Perchance, in time, the Town will come to appreciate my true Services to Boston Society.
When Leisure permits—though not on this day—we may discourse upon my later Duties as Health Officer to the Town, and the Troubles of the Cholera Pestilence. But you must pardon me now, Mr. Lapin, for the Clock hath struck Eleven of the forenoon, and my Copper-Smiths await their customary Dram of Rum and a brief respite from their Labours."
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