The Fatal Disaster As Observed By Reverend John A. Clark

THE FATAL DISASTER, AS OBSERVED BY REVEREND JOHN A. CLARK, IN HIS 1836 BOOK, "GATHERED FRAGMENTS"

THE SCARCITY AND EXPENSE OF MEDICAL CARE WAS, BY NECESSITY, OFTEN OVERTAKEN BY FAITH IN GOD

     Looking back in time, as romantic and sentimental as Hollywood can color it, for audience approval, visions of hardship enter the picture soon after the nostalgia wears thin. Along with the hardships of living without contemporary conveniences, we must also look at the problems associated with a limited health-care efficiency, akin to "living in the past." Today, if we have to wait a half hour in the hospital emergency department, we feel seriously disadvantaged, thinking our ailment, must, therefore, be of little concern to medical professionals. Or, we would be looked after soon after arriving for care. At least that's the opinion you hear, while sitting in the hospital waiting room, or for that matter, at the doctor's office.
     This has a relevance to the story I want to share with you today, about a child, in the early 1830's, who sustained serious burns, while making breakfast for her siblings, in the absence of her mother, who had left earlier for her work place. While medical care was available eventually, it was too little, and too late, to promote proper healing. The saving grace in this case, wasn't the medical community, but rather, divine intervention. The outcome wasn't a good one from a medical perspective, but in terms of the child's belief in God, it was a peaceful, hopeful end to a short life. She was like many folks who lived in antiquity, when faith was a powerful force of healing, as medical assistance was often denied because of living circumstances. Living rurally was a big disadvantage when it came to getting medical care in a timely fashion. In the pioneering years of Muskoka for example, which began in 1859, an ill settler would probably have suffered considerably, without relief, and would have had to be transported south to the community of Orillia. This would have been a torturous cart ride.
     Churches however, began to appear early in most regional settlements, in Muskoka, and in fact, non-denominational congregations first met in neighborhood homesteads prior to church construction. Faith was an important reality in those pioneer communities, and prayer was the most exercised health remedy, when medicine and medical assistance were unavailable. In concert, prayer and medicine, were optimum resources, moral and physical, but in the case of those isolated in the wilds of the district, a strong belief in God represented most influence, serious illness could be overcome by regular prayer.
     "No present health and health ensure, for yet an hour to come; no medicine, though it oft can cure, can always balk the tomb."
     The above passage, penned by Cowper, was the verse used by Reverend John A. Clark, to open his chapter entitled "The Fatal Disaster," in his 1836 biographical text, "Gathered Fragments," which was in fact his 3rd revised edition. The reference he makes to "Little Ann," and the crisis that was to unfold, reminds us of the very great burden of ill health, at a time when medical care was a fraction of what it is today; and doctors were much less abundant in rural communities. Many died awaiting medical assistance, and it was especially grim in the countryside, where it would take a long horse and buggy ride, to attend a doctor's office or hospital. As it was in Muskoka, on a par with doctors, were the rural preachers, like Anglican Minister, Gowan Gilmor, in the late 1800's, serving the Diocese of Algoma. Gilmor would be called to a "sick house," at his own risk of contracting the disease, and assist the family with their recovery, for as long as it took. He would even cook their meals. He travelled thousands of miles on foot, along the bush trails all over the Diocese, to administer to his flock, and that included all religions when it came down to his humanity and sense of commitment to all God's children. Faith played a huge role in medical care in many of the pioneer farmsteads of this district, as it did in the northeastern United States, where Reverend Clark tended his flock, also a large one representing thousands of square miles he was known to travel each year.
     Reverend Clark writes in his journal that, " Anna Wenman was the child of a poor widow, who supported herself by the labour of her own hands. Perhaps the thought may cross the reader's mind, that it is hardly worth his while to stop to read the next dozen pages of this volume, inasmuch as all they promise is to conduct him into the lowly tenement of want, that he may learn how a poor sick child, whose intellectual powers were not above mediocrity, and in whose religious exercises there was nothing remarkable, felt and acted, on a dying bed. And yet if the reader loves the Saviour, and bears in mind how much it cost to redeem the soul of a poor child - if he can find pleasure in tracing the workings of divine grace, in the humblest subject upon which the Holy Spirit operates, we think he will find, even in this lowly instance, around which no feelings of sentimentalism can be gathered, enough to awaken the emotions of adoring love, and cause him to exclaim, 'This is the mighty power of God!' Into that abode of poverty, whither we purpose to conduct the reader, the Lord Jesus Christ, condescended to enter; yea, the Holy Spirit thought it not beneath the exalted work on which he was sent, to visit that humble spot daily with his sacred presence.
     "As we have already remarked, Ann's mother was obliged to earn her livelihood by daily toil, which usually took her away early in the morning from her family, whom she did not see again till evening. Ann, being the eldest of the children, was usually left in charge with the other children. She was now about eleven years old, and uncommonly sedate and womanly for one of her age. On the morning upon which the fatal accident occurred, to which allusion has already been made, Mrs. Wenman, went from home at a very early hour, leaving Ann to prepare breakfast for herself and the children. About the time her mother left, Ann arose and entered upon the duties which had been committed to her. She had already made a fire in a moveable furnace which stood on the hearth, in the fire-place, and had placed the lamp with which she had kindled the fire down on the floor beside her."
     Reverend Clark continues, writing, "As (Ann) she proceeded in these preparation for breakfast, while in the act of stooping down to place the tea kettle on the furnace, her clothes, which were of a cotton fabric, came in contact with the flame of the lamp, and were in a moment in a light blaze. No one that has not witnessed a spectacle of this kind, can scarcely conceive the agony of such a moment. What could she do? There was no one near her that could render any assistance. Her screams brought some person in an adjoining tenement to her aid; but before relief cold be rendered, her back from her neck to her feet was so burned, that the physician remarked, that had the flame continued unextinguished two minutes more, she would have been a corpse. The first thing that Ann said, after her wounds were dressed, and her mother sat down by her to try to soother her suffering, was 'Will you not send for Mrs. R____, my Sunday School teacher. I think I shall not get well, and I wish to see her.' Mrs. R____was immediately informed of the dreadful accident that had befallen Ann. Very much distressed with the intelligence, she hastened to the spot, to see what relief or assistance she could render. The remark that this little sufferer made when Mrs. R_____ first entered the door, shows that pious remarks addressed to children are seldom lost. 'Do you not recollect,' she said, 'that you told me last Sunday, that very likely some one of us would die, or would be laid upon a dying bed before the close of the week? I think this is my case - I do not think I shall ever get well'."
     According to Reverend Scott, ""Mrs. R____ was deeply affected by this burst of deep and ingenuous feeling on the part of Ann, and gave her that kind and salutary advice which her case seemed to demand. Ann had no personal acquaintance with her pastor. She had heard him address the children frequently, and speak to them about their eternal salvation, as from Sunday to Sunday he came into the school, to see how they were progressing. Her mind was impressed with the conviction, that there was but little probability that she could get well, and she now felt anxious to do all that she could to be prepared for death. She thought her minister could tell her what she must do to die happy, and she, therefore, besought Mrs. R____ to invite him to come and see her. Several days, however, passed after this occurrence, before he could visit her. The impression made upon my mind, at my first call, will never be erased. The spirit of this child seemed to be in strange and striking contrast with every thing around me. It was a hot summer's morning, the weather exceedingly sultry and oppressive. All nature appeared to droop, and the feeble and unsteady step of each passer-by, indicated the universal sense of lassitude that was felt. Ann's mind alone seemed unenfeebled, and full of wakeful and active energy. The place where she was lying was a low basement room, in an indifferent looking house. The room itself, however, bore the aspect of cleanliness and comfort.
     "As I entered, Ann recognized me, and announced my name although I had no recollection of every having seen her before. Though suffering much and intense pain, a smile lit up her countenance at the sight of one who could speak to her about her soul. I sat down by her bed and remarked, 'Ann, I feel grieved to hear of the dreadful accident that has befallen you; but God, I doubt not, means to do you good by this affliction. Perhaps he has let the fire burn your body, so that your soul need not be burnt up for ever. If all the suffering you feel shall lead you to pray and seek God's face and favour, so that in the end you become his child, you will not regret that this dreadful accident has happened. I was very happy to know that you wished to see me. I presume you wish me to talk to you about hour soul. I trust you have learned by your attendance upon the Sunday-school, that in order to die in peace and dwell with God in life everlasting, it is necessary we should be changed and made new creatures. Are you aware Ann of this?' Yes sir,' she replied, 'and it was on this account I wanted to see you."
     After a lengthy discussion between the injured child and Reverend Clark, he "then kneeled down by her bedside, and prayed; she repeated with me the Lord's Prayer, and appeared deeply affected by this devotional exercise. As I left the room, Ann begged of me that, if it would not be too much trouble, I would call again. Her widowed mother followed me out of the door, and with wide eyes full of tears, said, 'Ann is indeed an altered child. She used to be fretful, and easily irritated; but now, she is as meek and patient as a lamb. O, sir, you cannot think with how much patience she bears all her pains; and she is talking constantly about religion. Last night, as I was lifting her up in the bed, she said, 'Dear mother, I expect I shall die, but I hope we shall meet at God's right hand.' The mother was not professedly pious. Like hundreds of others in our large cities, who seldom attend upon any place of public worship, though the streams of earthly happiness were dried up around her, she was still looking to the broken cisterns of earth for relief. The Lord saw it necessary to lay the rod of affliction upon her again and again. One and another were taken, till she was a childless widow. These multiplied afflictions, it is hoped, led her to the fountain of living waters."
     Reverend Clark, in a poignant passage writes, "Eight or ten days before her death, her mind seemed somewhat clouded and depressed. The Lord was evidently revealing to her more of the evil of sin. There was a hymn that she recollected having heard, although she had not committed it to memory. She wished her mother to read it to her again. The hymn was the following: 'O for a closer walk with God! A calm and heavenly frame; A light to shine upon the road, that leads me to the lamb.' About a half hour before she ceased to breathe, she intimated a wish that this hymn might be read to her. It was; and while the fourth verse was being read, 'Return, O heavenly Dove, return, Sweet messenger of rest,' she smiled, laying her fingers upon her breast, as much as to say, 'I now feel his holy and peaceful influence within. She then closed her eyes, and lay for a while. Her mother went to her bedside, and said gently, 'Ann, my dear, do you still know me?' She opened her eyes, and replied by a faint smile. 'I fear,' continued her mother. 'I fear that you will soon leave us; do you feel willing and resigned to go?' 'Yes, yes,' was her reply. Shortly after, she clasped her hands together, as if in prayer, and said aloud, 'O God receive_______.' Her breath had left her motionless body before the petition was concluded, and doubtless her soul was received into the rest of the blessed. It was early in the morning that the liberated spirit of little Ann winged its way to the bright abodes of everlasting peace."
     Sure, we like to re-enact history, as long as we don't sacrifice too much of contemporary convenience; that exists for us, just out of sight, maybe down the road a few miles, or a modest drive away. Even the bravest of contemporary historians aren't crazy about the idea, of forwarding the cause of time-travel, just for us, in order to immerse ourselves further back in our studies, to enjoy (or not) all its unpleasant actualities. We know too well, the hardships our ancestors had to suffer with, because of these shortfalls of medical attention and treatment options. It takes a trip back, via stories like this, to recognize how good most of us have it these days, being in close proximity to emergency medical care. Ann suffered with her burns for upwards of two months, all of the time, spent at home with only occasional medical intervention. If the same injury was sustained today, the survival rate would obviously be much greater. Alas, history is what it is! And most of us, hope that it will never repeat! Historians included!