Since Sitka first dawned upon my sight on a June day, in her setting of
vivid green and glistening white, she has been one of my dearest
memories. Four times in all have the green islands drifted apart to let
her rise from the blue sea before my enchanted eyes; and with each visit
she has grown more dear, and her memory more tormenting.
Something gives Sitka a different look and atmosphere from any other
town. It may be her whiteness, glistening against the rich green
background of forest and hill, with the whiteness of the mountains
shining in the higher lights; or it may be the severely white and plain
Greek church, rising in the centre of the main street, not more than a
block from the water, that gives Sitka her chaste and immaculate
appearance.
No buildings obstruct the view of the church from the water. There it
is, in the form of a Greek cross, with its green roof, steeple, and
bulbous dome.
This church is generally supposed to be the one that Baranoff built at
the beginning of the century; but this is not true. Baranoff did build a
small chapel, but it was in 1848 that the foundation of the present
church was laid--almost thirty years after the death of Baranoff. It was
under the special protection of the Czar, who, with other members of the
imperial family, sent many costly furnishings and ornaments.
Veniaminoff--who was later made Archpriest, and still later the
Archbishop of Kamchatka, and during the last years of his noble life,
the Metropolitan of Moscow--sent many of the rich vestments, paintings,
and furnishings. The chime of silvery bells was also sent from Moscow.
Upon landing at Sitka, one is confronted by the old log storehouse of
the Russians. This is an immense building, barricading the wharf from
the town. A narrow, dark, gloomy passage-way, or alley, leads through
the centre of this building. It seems as long as an ordinary city square
to the bewildered stranger groping through its shadows.
In front of this building, and inside both ends of the passage as far as
the light reaches, squat squaws, young and old, pretty and hideous,
starry-eyed and no-eyed, saucy and kind, arrogant and humble, taciturn
and voluble, vivacious and weary-faced. Surely no known variety of squaw
may be asked for and not found in this long line that reaches from the
wharf to the green-roofed church.
There is no night so wild and tempestuous, and no hour of any night so
late, or of any morning so early, that the passenger hastening ashore is
not greeted by this long line of dark-faced women. They sit like so many
patient, noiseless statues, with their tempting wares clustered around
the flat, "toed-in" feet of each.
Not only is this true of Sitka, but of every landing-place on the whole
coast where dwells an Indian or an Aleut that has something to sell.
Long before the boat lands, their gay shawls by day, or their dusky
outlines by night, are discovered from the deck of the steamer.
How they manage it, no ship's officer can tell; for the whistle is
frequently not blown until the boat is within a few yards of the shore.
Yet there they are, waiting!
Sometimes, at night, they appear simultaneously, fluttering down into
their places, swiftly and noiselessly, like a flock of birds settling
down to rest for a moment in their flight.
Some of these women are dressed in skirts and waists, but the majority
are wrapped in the everlasting gay blankets. No lip or nose ornaments
are seen, even in the most aged. Two or three men are scattered down the
line, to guard the women from being cheated.
These tall and lordly creatures strut noiselessly and superciliously
about, clucking out guttural advice to the squaws, as well as, to all
appearances, the frankest criticism of the persons examining their wares
with a view to purchasing.
The women are very droll, and apparently have a keen sense of humor; and
one is sure to have considerable fun poked at one, going down the line.
Mild-tempered people do not take umbrage at this ridicule; in fact, they
rather enjoy it. Being one of them, I lost my temper only once. A young
squaw offered me a wooden dish, explaining in broken English that it was
an old eating dish.
It had a flat handle with a hole in it; and as cooking and eating
utensils are never washed, it had the horrors of ages encrusted within
it to the depth of an inch or more.
This, of course, only added to its value. I paid her a dollar for it,
and had just taken it up gingerly and shudderingly with the tips of my
fingers, when, to my amazement and confusion, the girl who had sold it
to me, two older women who were squatting near, and a tall man leaning
against the wall, all burst simultaneously into jeering and
uncontrollable laughter.
As I gazed at them suspiciously and with reddening face, the young woman
pointed a brown and unclean finger at me; while, as for the chorus of
chuckles and duckings that assailed my ears--I hope I may never hear
their like again.
To add to my embarrassment, some passengers at that moment approached.
"Hello, Sally," said one; "what's the matter?"
Laughing too heartily to reply, she pointed at the wooden dish, which I
was vainly trying to hide. They all looked, saw, and laughed with the
Indians.
For a week afterward they smiled every time they looked at me; and I do
believe that every man, woman, and child on the steamer came, smiling,
to my cabin to see my "buy." But the ridicule of my kind was as nothing
compared to that of the Indians themselves. To be "taken in" by the
descendant of a Koloshian, and then jeered at to one's very face!
The only possession of an Alaskan Indian that may not be purchased is a
rosary. An attempt to buy one is met with glances of aversion.
"It has been _blessed_!" one woman said, almost in a whisper.
But they have most beautiful long strings of big, evenly cut,
sapphire-blue beads. They call them Russian beads, and point out certain
ones which were once used as money among the Indians.
Their wares consist chiefly of baskets; but there are also immense
spoons carved artistically out of the horns of mountain sheep; richly
beaded moccasins of many different materials; carved and gayly painted
canoes and paddles of the fragrant Alaska cedar or Sitka pine;
totem-poles carved out of dark gray slate stone; lamps, carved out of
wood and inlaid with a fine pearl-like shell. These are formed like
animals, with the backs hollowed to hold oil. There are silver spoons,
rings, bracelets, and chains, all delicately traced with totemic
designs; knives, virgin charms, Chilkaht blankets, and now and then a
genuine old spear, or bow and arrow, that proves the dearest treasure of
all.
[Illustration: Copyright by Dobbs, Nome
ESKIMO LAD IN PARKA AND MUKLUKS]
Old wooden, or bone, gambling sticks, finely carved, polished to a satin
finish, and sometimes inlaid with fragments of shell, or burnt with
totemic designs, are also greatly to be desired.
The main features of interest in Sitka are the Greek-Russian church and
the walk along the beach to Indian River Park.
A small admission fee is charged at the church door. This goes to the
poor-fund of the parish. It is the only church in Alaska that charges a
regular fee, but in all the others there are contribution boxes. When
one has, with burning cheeks, seen his fellow-Americans drop dimes and
nickels into the boxes of these churches, which have been specially
opened at much inconvenience for their accommodation, he is glad to see
the fifty-cent fee at the door charged.
There are no seats in the church. The congregation stands or kneels
during the entire service. There are three sanctuaries and as many
altars. The chief sanctuary is the one in the middle, and it is
dedicated to the Archi-Strategos Michael.
The sanctuary is separated from the body of the church by a
screen--which has a "shaky" look, by the way--adorned with twelve ikons,
or images, in costly silver and gold casings, artistically chased.
The middle door leading into the sanctuary is called the Royal Gates,
because through it the Holy Sacrament, or Eucharist, is carried out to
the faithful. It is most beautifully carved and decorated. Above it is a
magnificent ikon, representing the Last Supper. The heavy silver casing
is of great value. The casings alone of the twelve ikons on the screen
cost many thousands of dollars.
An interesting story is attached to the one of the patron saint of the
church, the Archangel Michael. The ship _Neva_, on her way to Sitka, was
wrecked at the base of Mount Edgecumbe. A large and valuable cargo was
lost, but the ikon was miraculously cast upon the beach, uninjured.
Many of the ikons and other adornments of the church were presented by
the survivors of wrecked vessels; others by illustrious friends in
Russia. One that had paled and grown dim was restored by Mrs. Emmons,
the wife of Lieutenant Emmons, whose work in Alaska was of great value.
When the Royal Gates are opened the entire sanctuary--or Holy of Holies,
in which no woman is permitted to set foot, lest it be defiled--may be
seen.
To one who does not understand the significance of the various objects,
the sanctuary proves a disappointment until the splendid old vestments
of cloth of gold and silver are brought out. These were the personal
gifts of the great Baranoff. They are exceedingly rich and sumptuous, as
is the bishop's stole, made of cloth woven of heavy silver threads.
The left-hand chapel is consecrated to "Our Lady of Kazan." It is
adorned with several ikons, one of which, "The Mother of God," is at
once the most beautiful and the most valuable object in the church. An
offer of fifteen thousand dollars was refused for it. The large dark
eyes of the madonna are so filled with sorrowful tenderness and passion
that they cannot be forgotten. They follow one about the chapel; and
after he has gone out into the fresh air and the sunlight he still feels
them upon him. Those mournful eyes hold a message that haunts the one
who has once tried to read it. The appeal which the unknown Russian
artist has painted into them produces an effect that is enduring.
But most precious of all to me were those objects, of whatsoever value,
which were presented by Innocentius, the Metropolitan of Moscow, the
Noble and the Devoted. If ever a man went forth in search of the Holy
Grail, it was he; and if ever a man came near finding the Holy Grail, it
was, likewise, he.
From Sitka to Unalaska, and up the Yukon so far as the Russian influence
goes, his name is still murmured with a veneration that is almost
adoration.
Historians know him and praise him, without a dissenting voice, as
Father Veniaminoff; for it was under this simple and unassuming title
that the pure, earnest, and devout young Russian came to the colonies in
1823, carrying the high, white light of his faith to the wretched
natives, among whom his life work was to be, from that time on, almost
to the end.
No man has ever done as much for the natives of Alaska as he, not even
Mr. Duncan. His heart being all love and his nature all tenderness, he
grew to love the gentle Aleutians and Sitkans, and so won their love and
trust in return.
In the Sitka church is a very costly and splendid vessel, used for the
Eucharist, which was once stolen, but afterward returned. There are
censers of pure silver and chaste design, which tinkle musically as they
swing.
A visit to the building of the Russian Orthodox Mission is also
interesting. There will be found some of the personal belongings of
Father Veniaminoff--his clock, a writing-desk which was made by his own
hands, of massive and enduring workmanship, and several articles of
furniture; also the ikon which once adorned his cell--a gift of Princess
Potemkin.
Sir George Simpson describes an Easter festival at Sitka in 1842. He
found all the people decked in festal attire upon his arrival at nine
o'clock in the morning. They were also, men and women, quite "tipsy."
Upon arriving at Governor Etholin's residence, he was ushered into the
great banqueting room, where a large party was rising from breakfast.
This party was composed of the bishop and priests, the Lutheran
clergyman, the naval officers, the secretaries, business men, and
masters and mates of vessels,--numbering in all about seventy,--all
arrayed in uniforms or, at the least, in elegant dress.
From morning till night Sir George was compelled to "run a gantlet of
kisses." When two persons met, one said, "Christ is risen"--and this was
a signal for prolonged kissing. "Some of them," adds Sir George,
naively, "were certainly pleasant enough; but many, even when the
performers were of the fair sex, were perhaps too highly flavored for
perfect comfort."
He was likewise compelled to accept many hard-boiled, gilded eggs, as
souvenirs.
During the whole week every bell in the chimes of the church rang
incessantly--from morning to night, from night to morning; and poor Sir
George found the jangling of "these confounded bells" harder to endure
than the eggs or the kisses.
Sir George extolled the virtues of the bishop--Veniaminoff. His
appearance impressed the Governor-in-Chief with awe; his talents and
attainments seemed worthy of his already exalted station; while the
gentleness which characterized his every word and deed insensibly
moulded reverence into love.
Whymper visited Sitka in 1865, and found Russian hospitality under the
administration of Matsukoff almost as lavish as during Baranoff's famous
reign.
[Illustration: Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau
SCALES AND SUMMIT OF CHILKOOT PASS IN 1898]
"Russian hospitality is proverbial," remarks Whymper, "and we all
somewhat suffered therefrom. The first phrase of their language acquired
by us was 'petnatchit copla'--fifteen drops." This innocently sounding
phrase really meant a good half-tumbler of some undiluted liquor,
ranging from cognac to raw vodhka, which was pressed upon the visitors
upon every available occasion. A refusal to drink meant an insult to
their host; and they were often sorely put to it to carry gracefully the
burden of entertainment which they dared not decline.
The big brass samovar was in every household, and they were compelled to
drink strong Russian tea, served by the tumblerful. Balls, banquets, and
fetes in the gardens of the social clubs were given in their honor;
while their fleet of four vessels in the harbor was daily visited by
large numbers of Russian ladies and gentlemen from the town.
At all seasons of the year the tables of the higher classes were
supplied with game, chickens, pork, vegetables, berries, and every
luxury obtainable; while the food of the common laborers was, in summer,
fresh fish, and in winter, salt fish.
Sir George Simpson attended a Koloshian funeral at Sitka, or New
Archangel, in 1842. The body of the deceased, arrayed in the gayest of
apparel, lay in state for two or three days, during which time the
relatives fasted and bewailed their loss. At the end of this period, the
body was placed on a funeral pyre, round which the relatives gathered,
their faces painted black and their hair covered with eagles' down. The
pipe was passed around several times; and then, in obedience to a secret
sign, the fire was kindled in several places at once. Wailings and loud
lamentations, accompanied by ceaseless drumming, continued until the
pyre was entirely consumed. The ashes were, at last, collected into an
ornamental box, which was elevated on a scaffold. Many of these
monuments were seen on the side of a neighboring hill.
A wedding witnessed at about the same time was quite as interesting as
the funeral, presenting several unique features. A good-looking Creole
girl, named Archimanditoffra, married the mate of a vessel lying in
port.
Attended by their friends and the more important residents of Sitka, the
couple proceeded at six o'clock in the evening to the church, where a
tiresome service, lasting an hour and a half, was solemnized by a
priest.
The bridegroom then led his bride to the ballroom. The most startling
feature of this wedding was of Russian, rather than savage, origin. The
person compelled to bear all the expense of the wedding was chosen to
give the bride away; and no man upon whom this honor was conferred ever
declined it.
This custom might be followed with beneficial results to-day, a bachelor
being always honored, until, in sheer self-defence, many a young man
would prefer to pay for his own wedding to constantly paying for the
wedding of some other man. It is more polite than the proposed tax on
bachelors.
At this wedding the beauty and fashion of Sitka were assembled. The
ladies were showily attired in muslin dresses, white satin shoes, silk
stockings, and kid gloves; they wore flowers and carried white fans.
The ball was opened by the bride and the highest officer present; and
quadrille followed waltz in rapid succession until daylight.
The music was excellent; and the unfortunate host and paymaster of the
ceremonies carried out his part like a prince. Tea, coffee, chocolate,
and champagne were served generously, varied with delicate foods,
"petnatchit coplas" of strong liquors, and expensive cigars.
According to the law of the church, the bridesmaids and bridesmen were
prohibited from marrying each other; but, owing to the limitations in
Sitka, a special dispensation had been granted, permitting such
marriages.
From the old Russian cemetery on the hill, a panoramic view is obtained
of the town, the harbor, the blue water-ways winding among the green
islands to the ocean, and the snow mountains floating above the pearly
clouds on all sides. In a quiet corner of the cemetery rests the first
Princess Matsukoff, an Englishwoman, who graced the "Castle on the Rock"
ere she died, in the middle sixties. Her successor was young, beautiful,
and gay; and her reign was as brilliant as it was brief. She it was who,
through bitter and passionate tears, dimly beheld the Russian flag
lowered from its proud place on the castle's lofty flagstaff and the
flag of the United States sweeping up in its stead. But the first proud
Princess Matsukoff slept on in her quiet resting-place beside the blue
and alien sea, and grieved not.
From all parts of the harbor and the town is seen the kekoor, the "rocky
promontory," from which Baranoff and Lisiansky drove the Koloshians
after the massacre, and upon which Baranoff's castle later stood.
It rises abruptly to a height of about eighty feet, and is ascended by a
long flight of wooden steps.
The first castle was burned; another was erected, and was destroyed by
earthquake; was rebuilt, and was again destroyed--the second time by
fire. The eminence is now occupied by the home of Professor Georgeson,
who conducts the government agricultural experimental work in Alaska.
The old log trading house which is on the right side of the street
leading to the church is wearing out at last. On some of the old
buildings patches of modern weather-boarding mingle with the massive and
ancient logs, producing an effect that is almost grotesque.
In the old hotel Lady Franklin once rested with an uneasy heart, during
the famous search for her husband.
The barracks and custom-house front on a vivid green parade ground that
slopes to the water. Slender gravelled roads lead across this well-kept
green to the quarters and to the building formerly occupied by Governor
Brady as the Executive Offices. His residence is farther on, around the
bay, in the direction of the Indian village.
There are fine fur and curio stores on the main street.
The homes of Sitka are neat and attractive. The window boxes and
carefully tended gardens are brilliant with bloom in summer.
Passing through the town, one soon reaches the hard, white road that
leads along the curving shingle to Indian River. The road curves with
the beach and goes glimmering on ahead, until it disappears in the green
mist of the forest.
Surely no place on this fair earth could less deserve the offensive name
of "park" than the strip of land bordering Indian River,--five hundred
feet wide on one bank, and two hundred and fifty feet on the other,
between the falls and the low plain where it pours into the sea,--which
in 1890 was set aside for this purpose.
It has been kept undefiled. There is not a sign, nor a painted seat, nor
a little stiff flower bed in it. There is not a striped paper bag, nor a
peanut shell, nor the peel of an orange anywhere.
It must be that only those people who live on beauty, instead of food,
haunt this beautiful spot.
The spruce, the cedar, and the pine grow gracefully and luxuriantly,
their lacy branches spreading out flat and motionless upon the still
air, tapering from the ground to a fine point. The hard road,
velvet-napped with the spicy needles of centuries, winds through them
and under them, the branches often touching the wayfarer's bared head.
The devil's-club grows tall and large; there are thickets of
salmon-berry and thimbleberry; there are banks of velvety green, and
others blue with violets; there are hedges of wild roses, the bloom
looking in the distance like an amethyst cloud floating upon the green.
The Alaskan thimbleberry is the most delicious berry that grows. Large,
scarlet, velvety, yet evanescent, it scarcely touches the tongue ere its
ravishing flavor has become a memory.
The vegetation is all of tropical luxuriance, and, owing to its constant
dew and mist baths, it is of an intense and vivid green that is fairly
dazzling where the sun touches it. One of the chief charms of the wooded
reserve is its stillness--broken only by the musical rush of waters and
the lyrical notes of birds. A kind of lavender twilight abides beneath
the trees, and, with the narrow, spruce-aisled vistas that open at every
turn, gives one a sensation as of being in some dim and scented
cathedral.
Enticing paths lead away from the main road to the river, where the
voices of rapids and cataracts call; but at last one comes to an open
space, so closely walled round on all sides by the forest that it may
easily be passed without being seen--and to which one makes his way with
difficulty, pushing aside branches of trees and tall ferns as he
proceeds.
Here, producing an effect that is positively uncanny, are several great
totems, shining out brilliantly from their dark green setting.
One experiences that solemn feeling which every one has known, as of
standing among the dead; the shades of Baranoff, Behring, Lisiansky,
Veniaminoff, Chirikoff,--all the unknown murdered ones, too,--go
drifting noiselessly, with reproachful faces, through the dim wood.
It was on the beach near this grove of totems that Lisiansky's men were
murdered by Koloshians in 1804, while obtaining water for the ship.
The Sitka Industrial Training School was founded nearly thirty years ago
by ex-Governor Brady, who was then a missionary to the Indians of
Alaska.
It was first attended by about one hundred natives, ranging from the
very young to the very old. This school was continued, with varied
success, by different people--including Captain Glass, of the
_Jamestown_--until Dr. Sheldon Jackson became interested, and, with Mr.
Brady and Mr. Austin, sought and obtained aid from the Board of Home
Missions of the Presbyterian Church.
A building was erected for a Boys' Home, and this was followed, a year
later, by a Girls' Home.
The girls were taught to speak the English language, cook, wash, iron,
sew, mend, and to become cleanly, cheerful, honest, honorable women.
The boys were taught to speak the English language; the trades of
shoemaking, coopering, boat-building, carpentry, engineering,
rope-making, and all kinds of agricultural work. The rudiments of
bricklaying, painting, and paper-hanging are also taught.
During the year 1907 a Bible Training Department was added for those
among the older boys and girls who desired to obtain knowledge along
such lines, or who aspired to take up missionary work among their
people.
Twelve pupils took up the work, and six continued it throughout the
year. The work in this department is, of course, voluntary on the part
of the student.
The Sitka Training School is not, at present, a government school.
During the early nineties it received aid from the government, under the
government's method of subsidizing denominational schools, where they
were already established, instead of incurring the extra expense of
establishing new government schools in the same localities.
When the government ceased granting such subsidies, the Sitka
School--as well as many other denominational schools--lost this
assistance.
The property of the school has always belonged to the Presbyterian Board
of Home Missions.
For many years it was customary to keep pupils at the schools from their
entrance until their education was finished.
In the summer of 1905 the experiment was tried of permitting a few
pupils to go to their homes during vacation. All returned in September
cheerfully and willingly; and now, each summer, more than seventy boys
and girls return to their homes to spend the time of vacation with their
families.
In former years, it would have been too injurious to the child to be
subjected to the influence of its parents, who were but slightly removed
from savagery. To-day, although many of the old heathenish rites and
customs still exist, they have not so deep a hold upon the natives; and
it is hoped, and expected, that the influence of the students for good
upon their people will far exceed that of their people for ill upon
them.
During the past year ninety boys and seventy-four girls were
enrolled--or as many as can be accommodated at the schools. They
represent the three peoples into which the Indians of southeastern
Alaska are now roughly divided--the Thlinkits, the Haidahs, and the
Tsimpsians. They come from Katalla, Yakutat, Skagway, Klukwan, Haines,
Douglas, Juneau, Kasa-an, Howkan, Metlakahtla, Hoonah--and, indeed, from
almost every point in southeastern Alaska where a handful of Indians are
gathered together.