It does not fall within the scope of this little sketch, in which
nothing more has been aimed at than to tell an interesting story in the
simplest possible way, to enter into any discussion of a question
to which what has just been said might naturally seem to lead--the
question, namely, of the results, immediate and remote, of the mission
system in California. The widely divergent conclusions on this subject
registered by the historians will, on investigation, be found, as
in most such cases, to depend quite as much upon bias of mind and
preconceived ideals, as upon the bare facts presented, concerning which,
one would imagine, there can hardly be much difference of opinion. To
decide upon the value of a given social experiment, we must, to begin
with, wake up our minds as to what we should wish to see achieved; and
where there is no unanimity concerning the object to be reached, there
will scarcely be any in respect of the means employed. It is not to
be wondered at, therefore, that critical judgment upon the Franciscan
missionaries and their work has been given here in terms of unqualified
laudation, and there in the form of severest disapproval, and that
everyone who touches the topic afresh is expected to take sides. In
their favor it must, I think, be universally admitted that they wrought
always with the highest motives and the noblest intentions, and that
their labours were really fruitful of much good among the native
tribes. On the other hand, when regarded from the standpoint of secular
progress, it seems equally certain that their work was sadly hampered
by narrowness of outlook and understanding, and an utter want of
appreciation of the demands and conditions of the modern world. Thus
while we give them the fullest credit for all that they accomplished by
their teachings and example, we have still frankly to acknowledge
their failure in the most important and most difficult part of their
undertaking--in the task of transforming many thousands of ignorant and
degraded savages into self-respecting men and women, fit for the duties
and responsibilities of civilization. Yet to put it in this way is to
show sharply enough that such failure is not hastily to be set down to
their discredit. It is often said, indeed, that they went altogether the
wrong way to work for the achievement of the much-desired result; and
it is unquestionably true, as La Perouse long ago pointed out, that they
made the fundamental, but with them inevitable mistake, of sacrificing
the temporal and material welfare of the natives to the consideration of
so-called "heavenly interests." Yet in common fairness we must remember
the stuff with which they had to deal. The Indian was by nature a child
and a slave; and if, out of children and slaves they did not at once
manufacture independent and law-abiding citizens, is it for us, who have
not yet exhibited triumphant success in handling the same problem under
far more favorable conditions, to cover them with our contempt, or
dismiss them with our blame? Civilization is at best a slow and painful
affair, as we half-civilized people ought surely to understand by this
time--a matter not of individuals and years, but of generations and
centuries; and nothing permanent has ever yet been gained by any
attempt, how promising soever it may have seemed, to force the natural
processes of social evolution. The mission padres bore the cross from
point to point along the far-off Pacific coast; they built churches,
they founded settlements, they gave their strength to the uplifting of
the heathen. Little that was enduring came out of all this toil. Perhaps
this was partly because their methods were shortsighted, their means
inadequate to the ends proposed. But when we remember that they had set
their hands to an almost impossible task, we shall perhaps be inclined
rather to acknowledge their partial success, than to deal harshly with
them on the score of their manifest failure.
Be all this as it may, however, the missions of California passed away,
leaving practically nothing behind them but a memory. Yet this is surely
a memory to be cherished by all who feel a pious reverence for the past,
and whose hearts are responsive to the sense of tears that there is in
mortal things. And alike for those who live beneath the blue skies of
California, and for those who wander awhile as visitors among her
scenes of wonder and enchantment, the old mission buildings will ever
be objects of curious and unique interest. Survivals from a by-gone era,
embodiments not only of the purposes of their founders, but of the faith
which built the great cathedrals of Europe, they stand pathetic figures
in a world to which they do not seem to belong. In the noise and bustle
of the civilization which is taking possession of what was once their
territory, they have no share. The life about them looks towards the
future. They point mutely to the past. A tender sentiment clings
about them; in their hushed enclosures we breathe a drowsy old-world
atmosphere of peace; to linger within their walls, to muse in their
graveyards, is to step out of the noisy present into the silence of
departed years. In a land where everything is of yesterday, and whose
marvellous natural beauties are but rarely touched with the associations
of history or charms of romance, these things have a subtle and peculiar
power--a magic not to be resisted by any one who turns aside for an hour
or two from the highways of the modern world, to dream among the scenes
where the old padres toiled and died. And as in imagination he there
calls up the ghostly figures of neophyte and soldier and priest, now
busy with the day's task-work, now kneeling at twilight mass in the
dimly-lighted chapel; as the murmur of strange voices and the faint
music of bell and chant steal in upon his ears; he will hardly fail
to realize that, however much or little the Franciscan missionaries
accomplished for California, they have passed down to our prosaic
after-generation a legacy of poetry, whereof the sweetness will not soon
die away.