Contrast between American and Russian Sitka.—A Practical Missionary.—The
Sitka Industrial School.—Gold Mines on the Island.—Environs of the
Town.—Future Prosperity of the Country.—Hot Springs.—Native Religious
Ideas.—A Natural Taste for Music.—A Native Brass Band.—Final View of
the Capital.
The Sitka of to-day contains about two thousand inhabitants, but is a
very different place from that which the Russians made of it. The
subjects of the Tzar carried on shipbuilding, manufactured wooden and
iron ware, erected an iron furnace and smelted native ore, made steel
knives and agricultural tools, axes, hatches, and carpenters’ tools
generally. They established a bell foundry here at which many bells and
chimes were cast, and shipped the products all along the Pacific coast,
especially to Mexico. The Greek Church was kept up to the highest
standard as regarded the national forms, and employed nearly a score of
priests, which, together with some forty or fifty civil officers
attached to the governor’s household staff, made a considerable
community of white citizens, which was a constant scene of business
activity. The capital has, in some respects at least, been greatly
improved since it came into our possession, but it bears unmistakable
evidences of antiquity. It has been made neat and clean, which was
certainly not a characteristic under its former management, the streets
have been regularly laid out, and good sidewalks have taken the place of
muddy pathways, while some well-constructed roads leading through the
neighborhood have been perfected. Though there is not seemingly so much
of local business going on as there used to be, still it is a far more
wholesome and pleasant place to live in than it was in the days of
Muscovite possession. In Mrs. E. S. Willard’s published letters from
Alaska we learn how an officer of our navy, namely, Captain Henry Glass
of the United States steamer Jamestown, in 1881, proved to be the right
sort of missionary to send on special duty to Sitka.
“His first move,” says this lady, “was to abolish hoochinoo. He made it
a crime to sell, buy, or drink it, or any intoxicating drinks. He
prevailed upon the traders to sell no molasses to the Indians in
quantities, so that they could not make this drink. He issued orders in
regard to clearing up the native ranches, which were filthy in the
extreme, and had been the scene of nightly horrors of almost every
description. He appointed a police force from the Indians themselves,
dressed them in navy cloth with ‘Jamestown’ in gilt letters on their
caps, and a silver star on their breasts. He made education compulsory.
The houses were all numbered and the children of each house, each child
being given a little round tin plate on which was marked his number and
the number of his house. These plates were worn on a string about the
neck. As the children arrived in school they were registered. Whoever
failed to send their children were fined one blanket. As soon as they
discovered that the captain was in earnest they submitted, and I believe
no blanket was forfeited after the first week. The ranches have been
cleaned, whitewashed, and drained, and all is peaceful and quiet where a
few months ago it was a place of strife.”
The Sitka Industrial School—or as it is better known here, the Jackson
Institution—is the most interesting feature of the town, because one
cannot fail to realize how much good it is accomplishing in the way of
practical civilization and real education among the natives. At this
writing there are nearly one hundred boys, and about sixty girls and
young women, who are under the parental care of the Institution. The
teaching force consists of a dozen earnest workers, mostly ladies from
the Eastern States. Besides the ordinary English branches taught in the
school, the girls are trained to cook, wash, iron, sew, knit, and to
make their own clothes. The boys are taught carpentry, house-building,
cabinet-making, blacksmithing, boat-building, shoemaking, and other
industries. The work of the school is so arranged that each boy and girl
attends school half a day, and works half a day. The results thus
brought about are admirable. The “Mission,” as the cluster of buildings
forming the school, the hospital, the residence for teachers, cottages,
and workshops is called, is situated beside the road leading to Indian
River, overlooking the bay, the islands, and the sea, with grand
mountain views on three sides. Fifteen different tribes are represented
in this Sitka Industrial School. English-speaking young natives who have
been trained here readily obtain good wages at the mines, in the
fish-canneries, and wherever they apply for employment among the white
residents of the Territory, while their influence with their tribes is
very great. That the Alaskans are teachable and capable of attaining a
higher and better plane of life has been abundantly proven by the
successful mission of this school during the few years of its existence.
There is a small monthly newspaper published at Sitka in the interest of
the Training School called “The North Star.” It is inexpensively
produced, and is calculated to disseminate information in behalf of the
excellent mission, as well as to add interest to its local affairs. The
type-setting and all the work on this little paper is done by native
boys. In his last published report Dr. Sheldon Jackson says in relation
to the Alaskan natives: “Christianize them, give them a fair school
education and the means of earning a living, and they are safe; but
without this the race is doomed. We believe in the gospel of habitual
industry for the adults, and of industrial training for the children. By
these means they can be reclaimed from improvident habits, and
transformed into ambitious and self-helpful citizens.”
The Industrial Training School at Sitka was established as a day school
by the Presbyterian Board of Home Missions in 1880, with Miss Olinda A.
Austin as teacher. The following fall circumstances led to the opening
of a boarding department. Since then the institution has grown until
there are connected with it two large buildings (one for boys and the
other for girls), an industrial building sheltering the carpenter and
boot and shoe shops, the printing-office and boat house, a small
blacksmith shop, a steam laundry, a bakery, a hospital, and six small
model cottages. Every building has been constructed by the pupils
themselves under the direction of the one carpenter, who acted as their
instructor. Even the domestic furniture, such as beds, chairs, bureaus,
and the like, is the handiwork of these native boys. We can testify from
personal observation that all is wonderfully well done, and of excellent
patterns.
There is a valuable gold mine situated six or eight miles southeast of
Sitka, eight hundred feet above the sea level and about a mile from deep
water, on Silver Bay, where the largest ships may lie beside the shore,
the wharfage having been prepared by Nature’s own hand. The quartz rock
is here represented to be of excellent quality, showing thirty dollars
to the average ton, and there is never-failing water near at hand
sufficient for running a hundred stamp-mill. Gold has been mined at
Silver Bay in a primitive way for several years. Numerous other mines
have been located and opened on Baranoff Island which give great
promise, but this just mentioned has accomplished thus far the best
results. We took notes of eleven mines upon which much work had been
done, shafts sunken, and tunnels run. “The island is besprinkled with
these gold-quartz veins,” said an intelligent citizen to us.
“Prospectors and miners have been attracted elsewhere in the Territory
by still more promising gold deposits. This, together with the want of
capital, is the reason the mines have not been opened and worked on an
extensive scale. This will follow, however, in due time, for miners can
work here all the year round, with comfort as regards the weather, and
at the minimum cost of living.”
The arrival of an excursion steamer at Sitka is made the occasion of a
regular holiday, which is very natural with a people who live in so
isolated a place. As the steamer enters the several harbors of the
inland passage northward, her presence is announced by a report from the
cannon on the forecastle, which awakens a score of sonorous echoes from
the rocky cliffs and nearest mountains, also serving to arouse the
sleepy natives and put the dealers in curios on the _qui vive_. The few
cafés do a thriving business; the nights, never very dark in summer, are
turned into day, and hours of revelry prevail. The aboriginal women
drive a lively business with their home-made curios, and indiscreet
native girls promenade freely with strangers. Peccadilloes are
overlooked; no one seems to be held strictly to account. The officials
are unusually lenient on such occasions, just as they are in Boston or
New York on the Fourth of July.
The immediate environs of Sitka present many rural beauties, including
river, forest, and wild flowers, with here and there a rapid, musical
cascade. The same species of highly-developed white clover as was seen
at Fort Wrangel is a charming feature here, fragrant and lovely,—
“Beautiful objects of the wild bees’ love.” Buttercups and dandelions
are twice the size of those which we have in New England. Ferns are in
great variety, and the mosses are exquisite in their velvety texture,
while tenderly shrouding the fallen and decaying trees they present an
endless variety of shades in green. There are over three hundred
varieties of wild flowers found on Baranoff Island, and wild berries
abound here as among all the islands and on the mainland. The wild
raspberry, salmon-berry, and thimbleberry are especially luxuriant and
fine in size and flavor. The woods are full of song-birds and of others
more gaudy of feather. These are only summer visitors, to be sure, among
which the rainbow-tinted humming-bird made his presence obvious. A
pleasant walk is finely laid out along the banks of the sparkling Indian
River, a swift mountain stream, hedged with thrifty and graceful alders,
by which means the citizens have created for themselves a charming and
favorite promenade. Along the left bank of this beautiful watercourse
are woodland scenes of exquisite rural beauty.
It would be foolish to suggest the idea that Alaska promises to become
eventually a great agricultural country; but it is equally incorrect to
say, as did a certain popular writer not long since, that “there is not
an acre of farming land in the Territory.” There are considerable areas
of good arable land now under profitable cultivation in the Sitka
district, and large farms, rich in virgin soil, could be had for a mere
song, as the saying goes, in desirable localities, by clearing away the
timber and draining the land. Some twenty-five milk cows are kept at
Sitka; milk is sold at ten cents per quart. Fresh venison is cheap and
abundant, and fish of various kinds cost nearly nothing. In the
immediate vicinity there are three thousand acres of arable land, much
of which is well grassed and covered with white clover. On the
foot-hills there is plenty of grass for the sustenance of sheep and
goats. Experienced residents told us that wool-growing might be
profitably pursued as a business here, and that there was not a month in
the year when the animals would absolutely require to be housed. Hay is
easily made, and is in abundance at cheap rates. “I have never seen
finer potatoes, turnips, cabbages, and garden produce generally, than
those grown here,” says Governor Swineford in his annual report to the
Department at Washington.
There is a great abundance of natural and nutritious grasses in most
parts of the country, but especially in the southern islands and the
Kodiak group. The great prosperity of Alaska, however, to be looked for
in the near future, lies in the energetic development of her coal trade,
her fisheries, and her extraordinary mineral wealth. The immense supply
of timber, some of which is unsurpassed in its merchantable value, will
come into use one or two generations later. The fur-trade, already of
gigantic proportions, cannot be judiciously developed beyond its present
volume, otherwise the source of supply will gradually become exhausted.
It might be quadrupled for a few years, but this would be killing the
goose that lays the golden egg. If protected, as our government is
striving to do for it to-day, it will continue indefinitely to meet the
market demand without glutting or overstocking it. In this connection,
and after some inquiry, we cannot refrain from expressing the fear that
the legal limit as regards the slaughter of the seals is greatly
exceeded. Over three million dollars’ worth of canned salmon were
exported from Alaska last year. “This Territory can supply the world
with salmon, herring, and halibut of the best quality,” says Dr. Sheldon
Jackson.
Twenty miles south of Sitka, on the same island, there are a number of
hot springs, strongly impregnated with iron and sulphur, the sanitary
nature of which has been known to the Indians for centuries, and hither
they have been in the habit of resorting for the cure of certain
physical ills, especially rheumatism, to which they are so liable.
Vegetation in the neighborhood of these springs is tropical. The
temperature of the water is said to be 155° Fah. At the time of the
Russian possession the whites built bath-houses on the spot, and much
was made of this sanitarium. But all is now neglected, except that the
natives still occasionally resort to the place to enjoy the tonic and
recuperating effect of the waters. Anything which will promote
cleanliness among the Alaskan tribes must be unquestionably of benefit
to them. There are plenty of hot mineral springs all over the various
island groups of the Territory, and especially that portion which makes
out from the Alaska Peninsula westward towards Asia. The most fatal
diseases prevailing among the aborigines after consumption are
scrofulous affections; the latter is thought to be aggravated, if not
induced, by their almost exclusive fish diet, supplemented by their
gross uncleanliness. The Aleuts of the south, the Eskimos of the north,
and the natives generally of the coast and the interior sleep and live
in such dark, dirty, unventilated quarters, reeking with vile odors,
that they cannot fail to poison their blood and thus induce a myriad of
ills. As we have said, none of these natives seem to have any
intelligent idea of medicine, and they do not possess any herbs, so far
as we could learn, which are used for medicinal purposes. If a native is
furnished with a prescription after the manner of the whites, he
requires at least twice the amount of medicine which it is customary to
give to a white man, otherwise the dose will have no apparent effect
upon his system. This is a never varying experience which medical men
have found repeated among all savage races.
As far as one is able to comprehend the religious convictions of the
native Sitkans, other than the few who have gone through the form of
professing Christianity, they seem to entertain a sort of animal
worship, a reverence for special birds and beasts. Like the Japanese
they hold certain animals sacred and will not injure them. It is thus
that they have some mystical idea about the bear, which prevents them
from willingly hunting that animal. Ravens are nearly as numerous in
Sitka as they are in Ceylon, and no one will injure then. They believe
that the spirits of the departed occupy the bodies of ravens, hawks, and
the like. One is reminded that in the temples of Canton the Chinese keep
sacred hogs; the Parsees of Bombay worship fire; the Japanese bow before
snakes and foxes, as divine symbols; the pious Hindoo deifies cows and
monkeys; so there is abundant precedent to countenance these simple
natives of Alaska in their crude worship and superstitions.
Their aboriginal belief is called Shamanism, or the propitiating of evil
spirits by acceptable offerings. It is significant that the same faith
is participated in by the Siberians, on the other side of Behring
Strait. This is no new or original form of religion; it was the faith of
the Tartar race before they became disciples of Buddhism.
These aborigines seem to anticipate a state of future happiness, but not
one of rewards and punishments. All blessedness in this anticipated
eternity is for man; woman, it seems, has no real inheritance in this
world or the next! Slavery, vice, and misery would thus appear to be her
portion in life, and she expects nothing beyond. This picture is not
overdrawn. These natives are now as much a part of our population as are
the people who live in Massachusetts or Rhode Island, and our manifest
duty is to educate them. The light of reason will soon follow, and like
the rising sun will burn away this mist of ignorance and superstition.
Schools are the most potent missionaries that can be established among
any savage race; reasonable religious convictions will follow as a
natural result.
“When the missionary,” says W. H. Dall, “will leave the trading-post,
strike out into the wilderness, live in the wilderness, live with the
Indians, teach them cleanliness first, morality next, and by slow and
simple teaching raise their minds above the hunt and the camp,—then, and
not until then, they will be able to comprehend the simplest principles
of right and wrong.” Though these Indians at the populous centres often
pretend to yield to the religious teachings of the professional
missionaries, still, like the Chinese religious converts, they are
pretty sure to return to their idols and superstitions. When the Roman
Catholic Bishop from San Francisco came among the natives of Alaska, and
offered to baptize their children, the Indians told him that he might
baptize them if he would pay them for it!
H. H. Bancroft, in his work upon the native races of the North Pacific,
says: “Thick, black clouds, portentous of evil, hang threateningly over
the savage during his entire life. Genii murmur in the flowing river, in
the rustling branches of the trees are heard the breathings of the gods,
goblins dance in the vapory twilight, and demons howl in the darkness.
All these things are hostile to man, and must be propitiated by gifts,
prayers, and sacrifices; while the religious worship of some of the
tribes includes practices frightful in their atrocity.”
The Sitkans, like many other tribes, used to burn their dead before the
missionaries partially dissuaded them from doing so, but some still
adopt cremation as a final and most desirable resort. To one who has
seen its universal application in India, there are many strong reasons
in its favor. The Alaskan native idea of a hell in another world
constituted of ice, it is said, causes them to reason that those buried
in the earth may be cold forever after, while those whose bodies are
burned will be forever warm and comfortable in the next sphere. After
the funeral these aborigines, as we have shown, engage in a genuine
“wake,” recklessly feasting and drinking to emphasize the importance of
the occasion, and to demonstrate their unbounded grief.
The native women occasionally show some taste for music and ability in
playing upon the accordion, almost the only instrument found in their
possession. A young Indian girl was seen quite alone among the wild
flowers just outside the town (Sitka) who had been taught a few pleasing
airs, and who surprised us with a well-played strain from a familiar
opera. She was a pretty, gypsy-like child of nature, evidently having
white blood in her veins, and was not over sixteen years of age. The
coarse, scanty clothing could not disguise her handsome form, bright,
intelligent face, or hide the depth and splendor of her jet-black
luminous eyes. When she discovered us the accordion was quickly thrust
behind her, while her downcast eyes expressed mortification at being
found alone by the white strangers, playing to the flowers beside the
Indian River. She understood English and spoke it fairly well, but
hesitated to receive the bright bit of silver offered to her. When we
told her that in the East it was the custom to pay those who played to
us upon musical instruments out-of-doors, and described the itinerant
hand-organist with his monkey, and the brass bands which perambulate
city streets, she laughed heartily, thrust the shining silver in her
bosom, and held out her hand to greet us cordially. As we turned our
steps back towards the town the innocent, winning face of the young girl
haunted us with thoughts of hidden possibilities never to be fulfilled.
On the evening before we left Sitka a brass band consisting of
twenty-one performers marched down to the wharf from the mission school,
in good military order, headed by their teacher as band-master, and
serenaded the passengers. The band was composed entirely of native boys,
the oldest not over eighteen, not one of whom had ever seen a brass
musical instrument two years ago. They performed eight or ten elaborate
pieces of composition, not passably well, but admirably, in perfect
time, and with real feeling for the music they expressed. It was a
surprise to every one on board the Corona to hear such a performance by
natives in this isolated spot in the far north. A liberal purse was
handed to the teacher to be divided among them.
“Do you know what they will do with this money?” he asked, gratefully.
“Purchase some trifle, each one after his own fancy,” we replied.
“No, sir,” said the teacher, “they will tell me, every one of them, to
purchase some new music with the money, which they can practice and
learn to play together.”
Their means are of course quite circumscribed, and they have had but
little variety afforded them, either in school-books or music. They look
upon their musical tuition as a reward for good behavior, and the
severest punishment to them is to be deprived of any favorite branch of
instruction.
At our final view of Sitka, the quaint capital of Alaska was lying quiet
and peacefully at the feet of Vestova, while enshrouded in a voluptuous
sheen of afternoon sunlight. A rose-glow rested on everything,
beautifying the simplest objects. Lofty, thickly-wooded hills formed the
background, while the Greek church and the old castle dominated all the
humbler buildings. The waters of the island-dotted bay were as still as
an inland lake, and flooded with golden reflections. Now and again an
eagle sailed gracefully from one wooded height to another, and the
hoarse croak of many ravens, held sacred by the Indians, greeted the
ear. A few United States soldiers lounged about their barracks, and a
few cannon were arranged upon the broad common. These were light
fieldpieces, more for show than for use. Groups of natives clad in
bright-colored blankets were seen here and there before their simple
dwellings which line the beach. A broad, intensely green plateau forms
the centre of the settlement, about which the better houses of the
whites are situated. A little to the left, nearer to the hills, is the
curiously arranged burial-ground of the aborigines, with a few
totem-poles, and many boxes reared above ground in which are deposited
the remains of former chiefs. On a slight rise of ground stands the
ancient blockhouse, built of logs, from which the Russians once made a
desperate fight with the natives. Behind us Mount Edgecombe loomed far
up among the clouds, where its apex was half hidden, and in the same
direction, not far away, was the open Pacific. It was nearly ten o’clock
P. M. before the sun set behind the distant western hills in a blaze of
scarlet, yellow, and purple, reflected by soft, butterfly clouds and
mountain tops in the east. After that came the luminous moonlight,
making a regal glory of the darkness, and flashing in opal gleams from
the sea.
While watching the rippling lustre of the water, tremulous with
starlight and the languid breath of the night air, one was fain to ask
if it was all quite real, if this was not a fancy picture from the land
of dreams. Could these be the far-away shores of Alaska? The pathos and
tenderness of the scene, the glow, and fire, and throbbing loveliness,
were indescribable. Even the few fleecy clouds which sailed between us
and the planets seemed as if they came to waft our hymn of praise to
Heaven. Is not such surpassing beauty of nature an image of the Infinite
One?
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