_The Memorials to Whitman. Why Delayed. Why the History was not
Written Earlier. Whitman College the Grand Monument! Professor
Harris Defines "History the window through which the soul looks
down upon the past and reads its lessons."_
It is of great importance that history be written accurately, and is
best when written at the time of action by reliable observers. But
there is much history of great value which was not currently
recorded. The Bible record is an instance of this. Take the history
of the battles of the great Civil War as another illustration.
General Sherman, president of "The Army of the Tennessee," in every
annual meeting, long after the war, declared the papers read before
the society, and those read before "The Loyal Legion," descriptions
of skirmishes, campaigns, and battles of the great conflict, as of
greater value to history than were even the official reports made at
the time of action; they were the personal experiences of many
participants; that they caught the very spirit of the time and
events, and were reliable although written thirty and more years
later.
There were many valid reasons why the history of the North Pacific
states in pioneer days was left unwritten for many years. It was most
fortunate that when the subject first began to receive attention so
many of the pioneers were still living, and that so much of the
history had been preserved by the Pioneer Association of Oregon, and
by individual records and letters. The writer reached Oregon soon
after the massacre at Waiilatpui. He was a teacher of the boys and
girls of the first settlers, and had access to their homes soon after
the execution of the five Indian leaders. The scene of the execution
was not far distant from the school-house in the fir woods. Naturally
it was a subject for discussion in every intelligent circle. I thus
learned historic facts not from books of written history, but from
men who were makers of the history.
_Why the Writing was Delayed_
In less than eight months after the massacre, gold was discovered in
California and Oregon, and no other event so absorbed the attention
of the population of the Pacific Coast or we might say of the whole
United States. They thought of little else for ten years. During the
same period, an Indian war following the Whitman massacre was in
progress in Oregon. Before these excitements ceased, the political
upheavals, beginning in 1856, culminated in 1860. Then followed the
great struggle of the Civil War, when giants met in battle, and the
very existence of the nation hung upon the success of the men behind
the flag. After 1865, the starry flag floated from ocean to ocean,
from the lakes to the Gulf, came the troublous period of
reconstruction--railroad-building and money-making as never before
witnessed in the Republic.
It is not at all strange that under such conditions, at least such
history as was made by a poor country doctor and his noble, unselfish
wife should have been for the time neglected. Who will say that it is
too late to remember such? In every civilized land the historian's
pen, the painter's brush, and the sculptor's art have been taxed to
place upon the library shelves historical books, upon the walls
paintings, and upon pedestals sculptured marble; thus commemorating
the noble dead, their great names live again as educators of the
people.
_The Memorials to Whitman Few_
After leaving Oregon, the writer did not return for forty-five years;
in the interim were wondrous changes. The giant forests of firs had
disappeared, while cities, towns, and country homes, and waving
wheat-fields had taken their places. But as I stood at "the Great
Grave" of the martyrs, it alone was undisturbed and unchanged, in all
these years!
To the great credit of loyal pioneers of Oregon who knew Whitman and
his work, upon the fiftieth anniversary of his death erected a
stately marble column above the grave and secured five acres of
ground about it, while the Christian people of Walla Walla built a
little Memorial Mission Church at the place of the massacre.
In a previous chapter we noted the action of the American Board and
the Presbyterian statue to Whitman upon the fiftieth anniversary of
his death.
It is gratifying to observe these marked evidences of awakened
interest in the long-neglected Oregonian hero. It is but the
beginning, for the name and honor of Marcus Whitman will shine with
new luster in the years to come.
_The Grand Memorial is Whitman College_
It needs no argument to convince intelligent readers, young or old,
that to such a character as Whitman, a great institution of learning
is the best and most appropriate memorial. While it is a constant
reminder of a noble, unselfish, patriotic Christian life, it is also
a blessing to the whole people within its reach, by building up
intellectual and moral character in the young men and women of that
land for which he gave his life.
The story of Whitman College, like the life of the man it
commemorates, gives a lesson in faith.
Dr. Cushing Eells was the co-worker with Whitman, and perhaps knew
the inner life of the man better than any other. After the massacre
he was driven from his post, but returned to the Indian country as
soon as it was opened to white people. He at once visited the tragic
grounds at Waiilatpui. As he stood uncovered at the great grave of
his beloved friends, he writes in his diary:
"I believe the power of the Highest came upon me, and I asked,
What can I do to honor the memory of these Christian martyrs who
did so much for the nation and humanity? I felt if Dr. Whitman
could be consulted he would prefer a high school for the benefit
of both sexes, rather than a monument of marble."
We must remember that at that time there were very few schools in the
Pacific States above the grade of the ordinary country district
school.
The subject impressed him, and as he thought and prayed, it came to
him as his life work and duty, to build such a monument. In memory of
his friend he laid the matter before his good wife, it met with her
cordial approval; and then before the Congregational Council, and
they enthusiastically indorsed the work, and in a closing minute
said, "The Whitman Seminary is in memory of the noble deeds and great
work of the late lamented Dr. Whitman and his noble wife."
[Illustration: MEMORIAL HALL WHITMAN COLLEGE.]
[Illustration: YOUNG MEN'S DORMITORY, WHITMAN COLLEGE.]
Dr. Eells, like Whitman, was a very poor man. The people about them
were poor. But they were rich in the kind of "Faith that removes
mountains." To financiers of modern times who demand millions for
schools the outlook for Whitman Seminary would not have been marked
as "promising." Dr. Eells bought the great Whitman Mission farm from
the American Board for one thousand dollars (on credit), and began
work. He and his wife were then well along in years, but that did not
count, and they had two sons of like mind who still live to tell the
story. For six years he plowed, sowed, reaped, and preached a free
Gospel up and down the valley; while the good wife made butter,
raised chickens, spun and wove, and at the end of that time, they had
accumulated six thousand dollars to start Whitman Seminary. The
charter was granted, the foundations laid, and work begun. The time
came, years later, when the seminary grew into a college, and Dr.
Eells had such strong and able men to aid and advise him as Dr.
Anderson, the first president, Dr. Atkinson, Dr. Lyman, Dr. Spalding,
and many others. But the college, while it had from the outset a
good reputation, was poor; there was no endowment, and the young men
and women to be educated were poor. Dr. Eells devoted his time and
life energies to his task, but in spite of all they had to place a
mortgage of thirteen thousand five hundred dollars upon the property.
One has to read the story in Dr. Eells' diary to know it in its
completeness. In its darkest days, when the faith of others was
small, his was still as strong as at the beginning. The last entries
in his diary, just before his death, were prayers for the upbuilding
and full success of Whitman College.
_The Story of Long Ago, and its Sequel_
The sacred word says, "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in
pictures of silver!" Who can overestimate the power of a good word or
a good act? Drop a stone in the middle of a placid lake and the
circles begin and widen until they reach the farthest shore. So with
good words and good acts, they go on and on into the great future, in
ways we know not of.
Congressman Thurston was a Maine man--a fine type physically,
intellectually, and morally. He had early immigrated to Oregon, and
was the first congressman from that territory. It was too far to
return to Oregon for his summer vacation, over the slow routes of
that day, so he went up to Chicopee, Massachusetts, to spend the
summers of 1848 and 1849. The house where he boarded was one of the
old-fashioned New England double houses, with a wide porch across the
entire front. It so happened that a young doctor and his wife
occupied the other side of the house, and the front portico was the
common retreat in the long summer evenings. He loved to tell of the
majestic forests of fir and pine trees, fifteen feet in diameter and
three hundred feet high, of the grand rivers, rich soil, and its
great future. It was not until 1848 that word reached the States of
the tragic disaster at Waiilatpui, and the death of his dear friends,
Dr. and Mrs. Whitman. The incidents and heroism of their lives were
told by the eloquent, earnest congressman, in a way that made a deep
and lasting impression upon the young doctor and his good wife. They
were seriously casting about for some wider field in life, and were
almost persuaded to make Oregon their future home. Upon the homeward
journey to Oregon in 1850, Congressman Thurston lost his life in a
great ocean disaster upon the Pacific. The writer was in Oregon at
the time, and well remembers the wave of sorrow that spread
throughout the territory. After the death of Thurston, the young
doctor gave up the Far Western journey, but he still had "the western
fever," removed to Illinois, and bought a small farm. Prospecting
through that state, Wisconsin and Michigan, he made up his mind that
there was money in pine land, and beginning in a small way, marketed
the timber, and made money. He at once invested all his money in pine
timberland, bought and sold, and ever bought more pine, and the time
came when he could readily sell for four times the cost of it. He was
an observant man, and his success in locating and selling, by his
straightforward way of doing business, soon attracted the attention
of capitalists, and they persuaded him to settle in Chicago and buy
and sell for them. Soon an immense business was in his hands, which
continued for years, and left him with a fortune. He wearied with the
years of intense business activity, retired, and said to himself,
here is a snug little fortune, what is to be done with it? In the
language of a notable address, delivered by the doctor before a great
audience at Battle Creek, when he said, "These dead hands can carry
nothing out! What, gentlemen, are you going to do with your money?"
He soon settled upon a plan to spend his, and that was to use it
through deserving struggling Colleges, to give to poor young men and
women an intellectual, moral, and religious training. He believed
that every institution for its permanency and security should have a
healthy, interested, money-giving constituency about it, and so he
gave in a way to induce others to give, and aids no institution where
the Bible and moral training are neglected. I scarcely need tell my
intelligent readers this person is D. K. Pearsons, M.D., LL.D., of
Chicago, now eighty-six years old.
I have given, in brief, a sketch of his work in this connection,
first because of his direct association with it, and secondly,
because it pointedly marks what we have tried to show from historic
facts in all the chapters--that Power higher than man's power can be
traced and studied.
We often speak of all such as "accidental happenings." _Were they?_
Did the four Flathead chiefs accidentally, in 1831-32, appear in the
streets of St. Louis upon their strange mission and there meet their
old friend the great red-head chief? Were Drs. Whitman and Spalding
and their wives accidentally in Oregon? Was his heroic ride to save
Oregon in 1842 an accident? Was it accidental that he was on the
border in 1843 to lead that great immigration to Oregon in safety?
The Oregon of to-day was dependent upon the safety of that great
company in 1843. Was it all accidental that Congressman Thurston met
Dr. Pearsons in 1848-49 at Chicopee, Massachusetts, and by "words
fitly spoken," that forty-five years after he had rested in his
watery grave were found to be "apples of gold in pictures of
silver"?
We all view such events from different standpoints, and I do not stop
to argue, only to state facts historically accurate. There are
accidents in the physical world from violated laws certainly, but in
the moral uplift of the race there seems to be an invisible hand, and
an agency greater than man's power. Wise as the race has grown, we
cannot understand and explain the mysteries that surround us. I see
the poor young Doctor in 1848 struggling to master his professional
work, and I see him again in 1894, old and rich, and in January of
that year, he sat musing by the fire in his winter home in Georgia,
and he took his pen and wrote:
LITHIA SPRINGS, GEORGIA, January, 1894.
TO THE PRESIDENT OF WHITMAN COLLEGE, WALLA WALLA,
WASHINGTON:--
_Dear Sir:_
I will give Whitman College fifty thousand dollars for endowment,
provided friends of the College will raise one hundred and fifty
thousand additional,
Yours,
D. K. PEARSONS.
[Illustration: REV. S. B. L. PENROSE, PRESIDENT OF WHITMAN COLLEGE]
Some may say "Nothing strange in that. Dr. Pearsons had made large
gifts to thirty-four different colleges." That is true. I one day
asked him, "Did any one ever ask that gift to Whitman College?" He
replied, "No; no one asked me for a dollar, and the president of
the college evidently thought my proposition preposterous, for he
never even replied to my letter." It was in the dark days of the
college. President Eaton was a good man, but he had lost the strong
faith of his predecessors, and soon after resigned. Just then the
Yale Band of Missionaries invaded Washington, and Rev. S. B. L.
Penrose, a man of Eells faith and Whitman's courage and perseverance,
was chosen president. He at once visited Dr. Pearsons, thanked him
for his generous offer, and set about his task of raising the money.
The difficulty was in getting a start. On June 20, 1895, the book
"How Marcus Whitman Saved Oregon" was published in Chicago, and on
the Fourth of July, Sunday, two weeks later, forty ministers in
Chicago and neighboring places took Marcus Whitman as a patriotic
text. Many of them took up collections for the memorial college, and
the Congregational Club gave its check for one thousand dollars.
Virginia Dox, an eloquent and enthusiastic pleader, took up the work,
carrying it through Michigan, along northern and central Ohio and all
New England from Maine to Massachusetts, and the one hundred and
fifty thousand was raised, and the Doctor's fifty thousand added. The
Doctor, in the meanwhile has paid off the mortgage debt of thirteen
thousand five hundred dollars. Everything looked brighter. But the
buildings were poor and over-crowded, the campus of five acres too
small. It was a good fortune which enabled the directors to buy
eighteen acres adjoining, and admirably adapted for the purpose.
Dr. Pearsons then said, "You need a dormitory for young men, where
they can be cheaply and comfortably fed and housed, and I will give
fifty thousand dollars to erect a memorial building to Dr. and Mrs.
Whitman if others will erect the dormitory." Through the aid of Mrs.
Billings of New York (the largest giver), Billings and Memorial halls
went up simultaneously. Then Dr. Pearsons said, the girls need a
dormitory as well as the boys, let others build it, and I will give
fifty thousand to endowment. It was done.
The people of Walla Walla, though possessed of no surplus wealth,
came nobly to the rescue and contributed several thousand dollars,
and the poor professors and many students literally gave "all that
they had, even all their living," in making up the required sum. And
so it has been from the beginning a college built by faith and
self-denial. It has still many great needs, but its friends still
hope and believe that its wants will be supplied.
Some time ago the writer read the story of an orphan newsboy, a waif
of the streets, but a manly little chap. He attended a mission Sunday
school and became a Christian boy. Some weeks later, one of the
smart young men half-sneeringly said to the boy, as he looked at his
broken shoes and tattered garments, "Well, my boy, if I believed in
God as you do, I would ask Him to tell some of those rich church
people to give me some better shoes and nicer clothes." The little
fellow looked troubled for a moment, and then replied, "I expect He
did, but they forgot."
It was one of the great characteristics of the men and women of these
pages, that they listened, heard, and never "forgot."
The world to-day, and in the generation to follow, is in need of
strong men and noble women. Greater problems than the fathers have
solved will the sons be called to solve. Be ready for them. Mistaken
Christian teachers have sometimes used the words "Prepare to die."
Change them to read "Prepare to live," and may you live long and
bless the world by your living. In this land of ours, the poorest can
aspire to and reach out for grand achievements. The poor, half-orphan
boy, conning his lessons by a pine knot fire in his grandfather
Whitman's old New England home, or as he went through his classical
course, and the study of his profession, then learned to be a
millwright, and learned all about machinery, perhaps never dreamed of
the great work he was to be called to do. He simply did it all well!
That is the key which unlocks the future good things of earth, and
swings wide open the everlasting doors of the eternal world. You are
here for work in a broad field, and while you toil, be happy, joyous,
contented, and make others the same. The children of earth are in
partnership with the Great Ruler of the universe in the moral
government of this world. His great law is love. Love is the greatest
word in the language. The Bible represents God's love, as "like a
flowing river." Drink deep of it, as have our heroes and heroines,
and when taps are sounded, whether in the quiet of your homes or amid
the yells of savage men, as befell our loved ones, you can say with
St. Paul, even when the feet of his murderers echoed from the walls
of his dungeon, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my
course, I have kept the faith, thenceforth there is laid up for me a
crown of righteousness." You can sing with Tennyson in his age:
"Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark;
And may there be no sadness of farewell
When I embark.
"And though from out the bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar."
THE END.
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.
Variations in spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been
retained except in obvious cases of typographical error.