ByRev. GEO. W. SMYTH, President of Fouchow College.
Among the many interesting places to be seen in the old and strange city of Peking, that which must claim the chief attention of every visitor intent on noting the changes which the last twenty-five years have wrought in this ancient empire is the Túng Wên Kuan, or College of United Literatures. It is an imperial college in which Chinese students are taught the principal languages and literatures of modern Europe. Their studies are in Chinese and in one or other of the western languages, and hence doubtless its high-sounding but significant name. The students are government cadets, paid from the public treasury, and preparing to enter the consular and diplomatic service of their country in foreign lands. A short account of the origin, purpose and methods of this school may not be uninteresting, as showing how great a change has come over the high official mind of this country in the last quarter of a century. The change, indeed, was the result of necessity, but it is not on that account any the less real, and the movement it inaugurated can not now be stopped.
The war of 1860, which so nearly destroyed the present dynasty, and showed the ruling classes at Peking the greatly superior power of the West, necessitated a great change in the foreign policy of the empire. Hitherto they had complacently looked upon foreigners, subjects and sovereigns alike, as uncouth barbarians, who were to be excluded from the capital, or allowed to enter it only on admitting their subjection and vassalage to the Celestial ruler. But the war which came so near overthrowing the dynasty and bringing down the whole fabric of government crashing about their ears, convinced even the proudest of the mandarins that further resistancewould be destruction, and that China, whether she would or not, must step out of her seclusion, and take an open place among the nations of the world. She must henceforth enter into treaty relations with the kingdoms of the West, treat them as equals, trade with them on reasonable terms, receive their ambassadors, and submit herself to the public laws of the civilized world. New methods had to be devised to meet these unusual conditions, and the first thing done was to establish the Tsungli Yamên, or office for the transaction of Foreign Affairs. In the following year a school was opened for the training of interpreters, and out of this grew in time the well equipped Imperial College of to-day. In 1865 this school was raised to the rank of a college by adding a scientific department. With this view new buildings were erected, and steps taken toward engaging the services of a competent corps of foreign professors. In a memorial to the throne presented by Prince Kung in 1866, that enlightened statesman thus declares the scope and motives of this undertaking: “What we desire,” he says, “is that students shall go to the bottom of these subjects (that is, the astronomical and mathematical sciences), for we are firmly convinced that if we are able to master the mysteries of mathematical calculation, physical investigation, astronomical observation, the construction of engines, the engineering of water courses, this, and this only, will assure the steady growth and power of the empire.” The prince had to meet many objections, and after stating that the nations of the West learn from each other, daily producing something new, and that even Japan has recently sent men to England to acquire the language and science of that country, he adds: “Now, when a small nation like Japan knows how to enter on a career of progress, what could be a greater disgrace than for China to adhere to her old traditions, and never think of waking up?”
It was some time before the college was thoroughly organized. W. A. P. Martin, D.D., once a missionary of the American Presbyterian Church at Ningpo, was appointed president. Other appointments followed as speedily as the fitting men could be found, till the plan contemplated was realized.
This, then, is the Imperial College at Peking. What does it do? What is taught there, and what are the influences of its training? While in Peking this summer I was fortunate enough to visit it, to see something of its working, and to gain some familiarity with its purposes and plans. The learned president, Dr. Martin, courteously showed me over the buildings, and told me of the work they were doing. The college buildings adjoin the foreign office or Tsungli Yamên. They are in no sense imposing, being ordinary Chinese structures of one story, without attempt at adornment or splendor of any sort whatever. The rooms are small and plain, containing nothing that is not needed for the immediate work of teaching. The room of the president is a very plain one for so high an officer. The departments of chemistry and physics are well supplied with the instruments and chemicals needed for their work. The professor of astronomy, who is also professor of mathematics, showed me a fine equatorial telescope just arrived from Grubb, one of the most celebrated makers in Europe. The rooms of the language professors are in keeping with the rest, small and bare, but sufficiently well adapted for the purposes to which they are put. The languages taught are four, English, French, German, and Russian, the English receiving far more attention than the others. The full course extends over a period of eight years, and in that time the students are led from “reading, writing and speaking,” through all the intermediate departments to “astronomy, geology and mineralogy, political economy and the translation of books.” After completing the course, those so disposed may remain in the college or be sent abroad, at the option of the government, for the pursuit of special studies, with a view to professional use. Many so remain. Last year one man left who had been in attendance for eighteen years.
The work done is as thorough as it can be. It can not be said that the students make as much progress as foreign students would make in much less time, but the slowness is due not more to the difficulties of a foreign language than to the utter strangeness of the subjects pursued. I was fortunate in being there on Wednesday, when the students of the higher English classes read essays of their own before the president and the English professor. Some of those I heard were very creditable, especially one on the subject of currency. He seemed to have thought for himself, to have a fair understanding of the subject, and would have delighted the fiscal reformers of America by the soundness of his hard money principles. He expressed great dissatisfaction with the currency of China, and hoped for a speedy and thorough reform. So does every man who travels in this strange country. Inside the walls of Peking there is one way of reckoning money, outside there is another; a few miles off one may find a third, and so on,ad infinitum. The currency of China is the most bewildering subject on the face of the earth. The rest of the essays did not impress me so much by the thoughts they expressed (indeed, there was little originality in any of them), as by their fair command of English style. The writers had evidently some mastery of the intricacies of the English idiom. I confess some of the themes disappointed me. They were taken from somewhere or other in the ancient classics, instead of being characteristic of the subjects they were studying. But it is hard to avoid this. The students know very little of the literature of the languages they are studying, and it is almost impossible, I am told, to induce them to take the great foreign works from the library and attempt to read them for themselves. They have not yet reached the state of intelligent enthusiasm which refuses to think a language known before a fair acquaintance is made with its literature. But this, too, will come in time. As to the students personally, a few of them impressed me as intelligent men, and as anxious to do their work well. The great trouble with them, the one which must seriously interfere with their studies, since it can not but narrow and distort their intellectual sympathies, is their seemingly invincible pride. I was told that scarce any but the Cantonese students care to take the slightest notice of their professors when they meet them on the street. Think of the difficulties of teaching such men! They probably look upon their instructors as far beneath themselves, and possibly think of the languages they are studying as the speech of barbarians. With such material, and with such dull and sullen prejudices to fight against, the professors must be regarded as having accomplished much. They could do more were their students men of liberal minds, eager to acquire knowledge for its own sake, and pursuing it with a generous enthusiasm. It is not easy to do your best work where you fail to rouse the sympathies of the student and make him feel something of the ardor which a liberal mind ever feels in the acquisition of knowledge. The Chinese are not an enthusiastic people, and except in a very few cases, it is impossible to make them such in learning of foreign things. They like to know as much as suits their imperative needs, and but few care enough about more to study with eager diligence. This struck me as being true of many of the students of this Peking college.
Beside teaching there is here another department of the first importance—that of translating and publishing foreign books. Several important works have already been translated by the professors of the college, or by the students under their supervision. Wheaton’s “Elements of International Law,” Woolsey’s “International Law,” Faucett’s “Political Economy,” Bluntschli’s “Droit International Codifié,” the “Code Napoleon,” Kerl’s “English Grammar,” and Tytler’s “Universal History;” these are the chief works hitherto translated. In addition, several compilations have been made, such as “Natural Philosophy,” “Chemical Analysis,” “Mathematical Exercises,” and “Mathematical Physics.”
The printing office is a commodious building, with several presses, several fonts of movable Chinese, and one of English type. When I was there one great book had just been finished, and another was just being printed. No more remarkable books have ever been issued from the government press, and if they are prophetic of the near future we may look for its coming with no little hope.
The book just published is a report on education in the West, by Dr. Martin. It is the result of a recent examination of the chief schools of learning in America and Europe. The report is quite full, giving an account of the principal classes of schools, elementary and professional, of the two continents, and closing with an exhibit of the present state of our own Michigan University. I wish there were space to speak of it at length, but the mere catalogue of some of the titles of its chapters will show its scope and purpose as well as the most elaborate description. Among the principal headings are such as these: “Elements Common to the Education of all Western Nations;” “Classification of Schools;” “Primary Schools;” “Education of Women;” “Education of the Blind and Deaf;” “Literary and Scientific Associations;” “The Nations Learning from Each Other;” “Rise and Progress of Science;” “Educational Statistics.” Beside these there is an account of professional schools of all classes. These will give some conception of the character of this most significant work. It is published with a preface by one of the ministers, by order of the Council for Foreign Affairs.
Who may estimate the influence of such a work as this, published and sanctioned by such high authority? The educational system of the West could have no more favorable introduction, as no foreigner in the empire is more highly esteemed than the learned author. It was fitting that such a book should come from the pen of Dr. Martin. In his translations of Woolsey’s and Wheaton’s treatises on international law, he had already shown the Chinese the public law of the nations of the West, and in this he describes the educational system on which their intellectual life is based. Others, it is true, have already taught the Chinese much, but it is scarcely injustice to say that from no one could this work come with such weighty authority as from the president of their own highest western school. It may be regarded as destined to play no unimportant part in shaping the intellectual life of the China of the future.
The other book, a much larger one, is an exhaustive treatise on anatomy, in ten volumes, by Dr. Dudgeon, a professor in the college, and a member of the London Missionary Society in Peking. He has been in charge for many years of the London Mission Hospital, and has long been engaged in the preparation of this great work. One of the conditions on which it was published was that the authorities should retain one hundred and fifty copies for their own use. How great a change this indicates, and how eloquently it speaks for the future of medical science in China, none but the older missionaries can adequately appreciate. Twenty years ago, few even of the most sanguine, could have believed that in the ancient capital itself, almost under the very shadow of the Imperial Palace, the work of an English medical missionary would be printed at the public expense, and official sanction be given to this recent innovation of the once universally feared and detested foreigner. Yet so it is. It is needless to speculate on what its influence must be on the future of medical education in this ancient empire.
Such is some of the work done in this most interesting school. It would be a pleasing task to note the changes which its very existence indicates, and speak of what its influence must be on the future. But this paper, being too long already, with a single further remark I will bring it to a close. The president of this great school is a Christian man, once a missionary of the Presbyterian Board, and still interested in all missionary work. In accepting his new position he gave up neither his faith nor his interest in the evangelization of the land. This is a matter of great moment, and it can not but be a theme for rejoicing that the highest foreign school in the empire is under the presidency of such a man. Of course he is not permitted to teach Christianity directly, but his influence and life are on the side of Christian principles, and Christianity will suffer no injustice at his hands. China is slowly opening her doors to the introduction of Western learning. She cares nothing as yet for our religion, but our science she will have. Is it not then important that it should be given her by Christian men, and not by such as him who, in the Japanese University at Tokio once told his students, that in the West Christianity was the religion of only women and babes? If Christian educators can take a leading part in this movement now, they may be able to hold it when it becomes more general, and thus the Chinese, in receiving science may the more readily accept that best of all gifts, a pure and undefiled Christianity. This must be the hope of all men interested in the future of China, and patiently waiting for the time when the religion of Christ shall cover the whole earth.
By WALLACE BRUCE.
In the providence that regulates human affairs there seems to have been no ordained quiet for the exiled Stuarts, but the quiet of the grave. During the early and unpopular reigns of the imported “House of Hanover” the Jacobite party eagerly watched and weighed every opportunity for restoring the ancient line. The throne of England was too great a prize to be readily abandoned. Some of the attempts to regain the glory and power which had departed from these Ichabod princes seem more like a romance than real history.
The Chevalier de St. George, whom we saw in the story of “Rob Roy,” retired to Italy after his unsuccessful enterprise of 1715, “where the sufferings of his father for the Roman Catholic religion gave him the fairest right to expect hospitality.” He was at this time thirty years of age, and, following the suggestions of his counselors, fixed his choice of a wife on the Princess Clementina Sobieski, daughter of the Prince of Poland. The romantic history of the Chevalier in pursuit of a throne was now to be paralleled in the getting of a wife. This young lady was accounted one of the greatest fortunes in Europe. She was granddaughter of that King John Sobieski, who defeated the Turks before Vienna. The dazzling expectations of the Pretender gratified the ambition of her parents, and they agreed to conduct her privately to Bologna, with a view to the marriage. The preparation became known to the British Court. The Emperor of Austria, at the request of England, arrested the bride as she passed through Innspruck, and detained her as prisoner in a cloister.
A bold attempt for the release of the Princess was contrived and executed by Charles Wogan—a devoted partisan to the Stuart cause. “He obtained a passport from the Austrian ambassador, in the name of Count Cernes and family, stated to be returning from Loretto to the low countries. Major Misset and his wife personated the supposed count and countess; Wogan was to pass for the brother of the count; the Princess Clementina, when she should be liberated, was to represent the Count’s sister, which character, in the meantime, was enacted by a smart girl, a domestic of Mrs. Misset. Captain Toole, with two other steady partisans, attended on the party of the supposed Count, in the dress and character of domestics. They arrived at Innspruck on the evening of the 27th of April, 1719, and took lodging near the convent. It appears that a trusty domestic of the princess had secured permission of the porter to bring a female with him into the cloister, and conduct her out at whatever hour he pleased. This was agreat step in favor of their success, and taking advantage of a storm of snow and hail, Mrs. Misset’s domestic was safely introduced into the cloister, and the princess, changing clothes with her, came out at the hour by which the stranger was to return. Through bad roads and worse weather the liberated bride and her attendants pushed on until they quitted the Austrian territories, and entered those of Venice. On the second of May, after a journey of great fatigue, and some danger, they arrived at Bologna.”
The Jacobites drew many happy omens from the success with which the romantic union of the Chevalier de St. George was achieved, although after all it may be doubted whether the Austrian Emperor, though obliged in appearance to comply with the remonstrances of the British Court, was either seriously anxious to prevent the Princess’s escape, or extremely desirous that she should be retaken. By this union the Chevalier transmitted his hereditary claims, and with them his evil luck, to two sons. The first, Charles Edward, born the 31st of December, 1720, was remarkable for the figure he made during the civil war of 1745-6; the second, Henry Benedict, born the 6th of March, 1725, for being the last male heir, in the direct line, of the unfortunate House of Stuart. He bore the title of Duke of York, and, entering the Church of Rome, was promoted to the rank of Cardinal.
This interesting betrothal and marriage, condensed from Scott’s picturesque narrative in the “Tales of a Grandfather,” serve as a connecting link between our last paper, which dealt historically with the affair of 1715, and the present paper which deals with the affair of 1745. It is, moreover, simple politeness to our readers to introduce the parents, who are passing from the stage, before presenting the son, whose fortunes were destined to be more romantic than his ancestors, and whose name will survive in song and poetry as the “Prince Charlie from over the sea.”
“Waverley” reveals the true state of Scotland during the middle of the eighteenth century. In fact, the titles of the chapters present almost a history in themselves. While it reveals in every page the great power of the novelist in portrayal of character, in discerning the motives which influence the actions of individuals, in the poetic description of scenery, in elevated tone and fitting and graceful dialogue, it differs from his greater and later works as the “Hypatia” of Charles Kingsley differs from the “Romola” of George Eliot. It is not so much an inner growth as an algebraic demonstration; each chapter beingplusto the one that precedes it. In the early part of the story he conducts Waverley step by step through his boyhood to the choice of a profession. He then introduces him to the Highlands, and deals with the customs and manners of the people in a succession of chapter-essays. He gives us a border-raid; he portrays the “Hold of a Highland Robber;” describes the chief and his mansion; introduces us to a Highland feast; treats us to a display of Highland minstrelsy; and thus the story moves on step by step, so manystadiaa day, like the march of Julius Cæsar through Germany, or the retreat of the ten thousand Greeks under Xenophon. But in spite of this step-by-step process, which marks the first work of Sir Walter in prose fiction, no volume of the series presents more vividly or graphically the historic features of the times to which it is related.
The wild and fierce Highlanders, who stalked to and fro in pages of the “Fair Maid of Perth,” are greatly modified and toned down in “Waverley.” Civilization has girdled their mountain fastnesses. They have been taught to acknowledge law, or at least to respect and fear it. The patriarchal system, however, still continues. The chief is the leader in war, and their arbitrator and protector in peace. The whole income of the tribe is paid to the chief, and helps to support his rude hospitality. In the mansion of Fergus MacIvor, Waverley is introduced to the surviving and modified customs of this northern Gælic people. The description of the feast and the music of the bard, chanting the deeds of their ancestors, are worthy of special mention. “A huge oaken table extended through the whole length of the hall. The apparatus for dinner was simple, even to rudeness, and the company numerous, even to crowding. At the head of the table was the chief himself, with Waverley, and two or three Highland visitors of neighboring clans; the elders of his own tribe sat next in rank; beneath them their sons and nephews, and foster-brethren; then the officers of the chief’s household, according to their order, and lowest of all the tenants who cultivated the ground.”
“Even beyond the long perspective, Waverley might see upon the green, to which a huge pair of folding doors opened, a multitude of Highlanders of a yet inferior description, who nevertheless were considered as guests, and had their share of the cheer of the day. In the distance, and fluctuating round the extreme verge of the banquet, was a changeful group of women, ragged boys and girls, beggars, young and old, large greyhounds, terriers and pointers, and curs of low degree; all of whom took some interest in the main action of the piece. Some pains had been bestowed in dressing the dishes at the upper end of the table. Lower down stood immense joints of mutton and beef, which resembled the rude festivity of Penelope’s suitors. But the central dish was a yearling lamb roasted whole. It was set upon its legs, with a bunch of parsley in its mouth, and was probably exhibited in that form to gratify the pride of the cook, who piqued himself more on the plenty than the elegance of his master’s table. The sides of the poor animal were fiercely attacked by the clansmen, some with dirks, others with the knives which were usually in the same sheath with the dagger, so that it was soon rendered a mangled and rueful spectacle. Lower down still, the victuals seemed of a still coarser quality, though sufficiently abundant. After the banquet the chieftain made a signal for the pipes to cease, and said aloud, ‘Where is the song hidden, my friends, that MacMurrough can not find it?’ The family bard, an aged man, immediately took the hint, and began to chant with low and rapid utterance a profusion of Celtic verses, which were received by the audience with all the applause of enthusiasm. As he advanced in his declamation, his ardor seemed to increase. He had at first spoken with his eyes fixed upon the ground; he now cast them around as if beseeching, and anon as if commanding attention, and his tones rose into wild and impassioned notes, accompanied with appropriate gestures. The ardor of the poet seemed to communicate itself to the audience. Their wild and sun-burnt countenances assumed a fiercer and more animated expression; all bent forward toward the reciter; many sprung up and waved their hands in ecstasy, and some laid their hands on their swords.”
It was in such halls as these that the cause of the Pretender was cherished. The Lowlanders were for the most part disposed to peace. The relation of landlord and tenant had gradually lost its feudal character. The payment was in pounds sterling and not in warlike service. The result of the Pretender’s adventure might therefore have been foretold at the outset, but it was brilliant while it lasted, and he had the pleasure of giving a few feasts in Holyrood—the palace of his ancestors. It will be remembered that he landed with seven followers in Moidart on the 25th of July, 1745. The place was well chosen for concealment, being on the main land south of the islands of Skye. He opened communication with the clans in the neighborhood, but at first received little encouragement. By wise measures and cordial address his numbers grew slowly. An association was drawn up and signed by the chiefs who had taken the field, in which the subscribers bound themselves never to abandon their prince while he remained in the realm, or to lay down their arms, or make peace with government, without his express consent. He marched to Perth with his little army, where the Chevalier first found the want of money. When he entered that town, he showed oneof his followers a single guinea of the four hundred pounds which he had brought with him from France; but the towns and cities north of the Tay supplied men and money, and for a time his fortune was in the ascendant.
The English troops at that time in Scotland were under a second rate commander, Sir John Cope. He moved north to Inverness and left Edinburgh undefended. The Pretender captured Edinburgh, and entered it the 17th of September. He began his march on foot, but, on account of the crowd who pressed upon him to kiss his hand, he was compelled to call for his horse as he approached the eastern entrance of the palace. His personal appearance was prepossessing. His graceful manners, noble mien and ready courtesy “seemed to mark him no unworthy competitor of the crown. His dress was national. A short tartan coat, a blue bonnet with a white rose, and the order and emblem of the thistle, seemed all chosen to identify him with the ancient nation he summoned to arms.” It was indeed a proud moment, but the bubble was soon to burst. After a few successful battles, and an ill-timed excursion into England, the army was disbanded, and the unfortunate Wanderer was compelled to flee for his life, disguised as a servant. He sought refuge in a cavern where seven outlaws had taken up their abode. With these men he remained about three weeks, and when the hour of his departure came they said: “Stay with us; the mountains of gold which the government have set upon your head may induce some gentleman to betray you, for he can go to a distant country and live on the price of his dishonor; but to us there exists no such temptation. We can speak no language but our own—we can live nowhere but in this country, where, were we but to injure a hair of your head, the very mountains would fall down to crush us to death.” On the 20th of September he embarked in a French frigate, and reached Morlaix in Brittany the 29th of September.
If there ever was truth in the words, “there is a divinity that doth hedge a king” it finds illustration in the thirteen months that Charles Edward spent on this expedition in Scotland. No history or romance recounts such perils of flight, concealment and escape. The secret of his concealment was known to persons of every age, sex, and condition, but no individual from the proudest Earl to the meanest outlaw would stoop to give up their leader, even for the promised reward, which would have purchased the half of Scotland north of the Forth. That the Prince was bold and generous, in this campaign, no person can doubt; and if Charles the First had possessed as much humor as his amiable descendant, he might have preserved his head which was an “unco’ loss” to the whole Stuart line. After the victory at Preston, the Pretender sent word to the Edinburgh preachers to preach the next day, Sunday, as usual; and the Rev. Neil M’Vicar offered the following prayer: “Bless the king! Thou knowest what king I mean. May the crown sit long on his head. As for that young man who has come among us to seek an earthly crown, we beseech thee to take him to thyself and give him a crown of glory.” It is said that when the Prince heard of M’Vicar’s prayer he laughed heartily, and expressed himself quite satisfied.
I have spoken of this novel being true to history. It could hardly have been otherwise when we consider the opportunities Scott had for studying all the facts. In the closing chapter of “Waverley” he says: “It was my accidental lot, though not born a Highlander, to reside, during my childhood and youth, among persons who cherished a lingering though hopeless attachment, to the House of Stuart; and now, for the purpose of preserving some idea of the ancient manners of which I have witnessed the almost total extinction, I have embodied in imaginary scenes, and ascribed to fictitious characters, a part of the incidents which I then received from those who were actors in them. Indeed, the most romantic parts of this narrative are precisely those which have a foundation in fact. There is scarce a gentleman who was ‘in hiding,’ after the battle of Culloden, but could tell a tale of wild and hair-breadth ’scapes, as extraordinary as any which I have ascribed to my heroes. The accounts of the battle at Preston and skirmish at Clifton are taken from the narrative of intelligent eye-witnesses, and corrected from the ‘History of the Rebellion’ by the late venerable author of ‘Douglas.’ The Lowland Scottish gentlemen, and the subordinate characters, are not given as individual portraits, but are drawn from the general habits of the period, of which I have witnessed some remnants in my younger days, and partly gathered from tradition.”
“Guy Mannering,” the next in sequence, is rather a portrayal of character than a historic picture. It gives us a glimpse of gipsey-life in Galloway true to fact, and also reveals the traits of the hardy smugglers that invested its shores. The characters stand out by themselves with little or no background. Here is Dandie Dinmot, with his numerous dogs and children; Attorney Pleydell, with his old-time courtesy; Dominie Sampson, a cyclopædia of worthless erudition—a man to be laughed at and loved—possessing a fund of knowledge, but no wisdom; Guy Mannering, a courtly gentleman, deep and undisturbed as a tropic sea; two sweet young ladies and their lovers, who are at last happily married; Meg Merrilies, as generous and sensible a gipsey as ever lived; Dirk Hatterick, as false a sea rover as ever hoisted sail; and Glossin, a fawning scoundrel, whose course through life was like the trail of a serpent. The book is in fact a drama rather than a novel, or rather both in one—a dramatic romance. Coleridge regarded it as one of the greatest of Scott’s novels, and mentions it in this connection with “Old Mortality.”
In “Redgauntlet” we find a continuation of the smuggler trade, and are also introduced to the Pretender, who has not improved either in appearance or character since we last saw him in “Waverley.” His friends and supporters for the most part consist of the very dregs of society. In his blind adoration for a person not to be named with respect, the Prince lost the confidence of friends who had risked their all to support his title. In a cup of dissolute pleasure he dissolves the pearl of his good name. If he had died at the head of his army of adherents in Scotland, or after his return to France, he would have survived in history as a worthier man. “He proved to be one of those personages who distinguish themselves during some singular and brilliant period of their lives, like the course of a shooting star at which men wonder, as well on account of the briefness, as the brilliancy of its splendor. A long trace of darkness overshadowed the subsequent life of a man who, in his youth, shewed himself so capable of great undertakings; the later pursuits and habits of this unhappy Prince are those painfully evincing a broken heart, which finds refuge from its own thoughts in sordid enjoyments.”
The man was also in the hands of persons full of wild plots and political impatience. They formed schemes wholly impracticable. They invited him in 1750 to London; but he was soon convinced that he had been deceived, and after a stay of five days he returned to the place from which he came. He died at Rome the 31st of January, 1788, and was royally interred in the Cathedral Church of Frescati, of which his brother was bishop.
After his death his brother, the last direct male heir of the House of Stuart, made no assertion of his right to the British throne, but had a beautiful medal struck, in which he was represented in kingly garb with the motto in Latin, “King by the grace of God, but not by the will of the people.” He finally received an annuity of 4,000 pounds a year given to him by George the Third, and on his death he bequeathed to George the Fourth all the crown jewels, which James the Second had carried along with him to the Continent in 1688. He died at Rome, June 1807, in the eighty-third year of his age. The volumes of “Waverley” and “Redgauntlet,” taken in connection with Scott’s “Tales of a Grandfather,” give the most complete history of this unfortunate struggle.
“The Antiquary” and “Saint Ronan’s Well” present a postscript of manners and customs, which seems tame from a historic standpoint, after living so many centuries in the company of heroes and princes. Scott speaking of “The Antiquary” says: “It wants the romance of ‘Waverley’ and the adventure of ‘Guy Mannering;’ yet there is some salvation about it, for if a man will paint from nature he will be likely to amuse those who are daily looking at it.” He also says in his introduction of “The Antiquary:” “‘Waverley’ embraced the age of our fathers, ‘Guy Mannering’ that of our youth, and ‘The Antiquary’ refers to the last ten years of the eighteenth century. I have in the last two narratives especially, sought my principal personages in the class of society who are the last to feel the influence of that general polish which assimilates to each other the manners of different nations. Among some of the same class I have placed some of the scenes, in which I have endeavored to illustrate the operation of the higher and more violent passions; both because the lower orders are less restrained by the habit of suppressing their feelings, and because I agree with my friend Wordsworth, that they seldom fail to express them in the strongest and most powerful language. This is, I think, peculiarly the case with the peasantry of my own country, a class with whom I have been long familiar. The antique force and simplicity of their language, often tinctured with the oriental eloquence of Scripture, in the mouths of those of an elevated understanding, give pathos to their grief, and dignity to their resentment.” The pathos and eloquence in the homes of the fishermen justify Scott’s criticism, and the picture which he has drawn of the old grandmother will survive in our memory as one of the most dramatic in the Waverley series.
There are two references in “The Antiquary” to contemporary history, which ought not to be entirely overlooked; one where the Antiquary describes the excitement of preparation in Edinburgh against the anticipated French invasion, when almost every individual was enrolled either in military or civil capacity. Beacons were erected along the coast to summon the newly organized army of defense when occasion required, and Scott humorously refers, in one of his letters, to the appearance he himself made decked out in regimentals. Near the close of “The Antiquary” the signal light blazes out by mistake the 2d of February, 1804; the person, who kept watch on the commanding station of Home Castle, being deceived by some accidental fire in the county of Northumberland. The only historical allusion in “St. Ronan’s Well” relates to the Reign of Terror and to Napoleon Bonaparte at Acre.
The twenty-six novels and five poems of Sir Walter, therefore, unite the two greatest events of Europe—the wars of the Crusades, and the exploits of Napoleon and the French Revolution. In “Count Robert of Paris” we see Constantinople in her glory, under the rule of the crafty Alexius. We hear the tread of armed hosts passing and repassing along the great highway of the world. In “The Betrothed” we see England aroused by the voice of her eloquent Archbishop. In “The Talisman” we see the craft of Saladin opposed to the discordant army of Richard the Lion-hearted. In “Ivanhoe” we find Saxon and Jew pressed down under the heel of the Norman. We see Scotland rescued from the oppression of England in “Castle Dangerous” and the “Lord of the Isles.” We note the state of the Highlands in 1402 in the “Fair Maid of Perth,” and trace the wiles and craft of the French Emperor in “Louis the Eleventh,” and in “Anne of Geierstein.” We visit with “Marmion” the Battle-field of Flodden, we see the light glimmer in the Chancel of Melrose as we turn the pages of “The Lay of the Last Minstrel,” and wander with James the Fifth in disguise through the wild passes of the Trosachs. In the “Monastery” and “Abbot” we read the history of the Catholic and Protestant struggle in Scotland, we weep with the unfortunate Mary, and glory in the triumph of Knox. In “Kenilworth” we see the power and weakness of the Virgin Queen, and look into the sad eyes of Amy Robsart sacrificed upon the altar of ambition.
We see the London of James the First in the “Fortunes of Nigel;” we hear in “Rokeby” the echo of the battle of Marston Moor; we follow the struggle of Argyle and Montrose in the “Legend;” and talk with the young exile, Charles the Second, in the groves of “Woodstock.” In “Peveril of the Peak” we find the King upon his throne, surrounded by Buckingham and the most desolate court of Europe. In “Old Mortality” we sympathize with the Covenanters, a people devout and sincere in their character, as they were unpractical in their conduct. In “The Pirate” we note some of the surviving customs of old Scandinavia. In the “Bride of Lammermoor” we see the decay of a noble House. “The Black Dwarf” is related to the fierce discussion in Scotland at the time of the national Union. “Rob Roy” introduces us to the Pretender in the Affair of 1715. “The Heart of Midlothian” gives us a picture of Edinburgh; and so our historic chain, composed of poetic links, brings us down to the beginning of our own century. No wonder that Scott has been styled the Great Magician, when, by the lifting of his wand, he was able to make the heroes of neglected history burst their cerements.
I sat one evening on the banks of the Tweed amid the ruins of Dryburgh Abbey, by a plain monument in St. Mary’s Aisle; the soft moonlight, streaming through broken casements, added solemnity and beauty to the peaceful sylvan scene. I recalled the ruins of Kenilworth Castle, far off on another poetic stream, and the pageant of history which there passed before England’s Elizabeth; and I thought how much grander the procession of Eight Hundred Years, which passed in long review before the mental vision of the great novelist and poet, now resting beneath the quiet stars. The ivy still rustles in the breeze; the gray ruins again gleam in the moonlight, and, reader, the years can never lift their furrows of care between me and that twilight picture hallowed by the poetic memory of a noble man.
By theRev. WM. H. LEWIS.
No one familiar with the spiritual obstacles that missionaries encounter expects that characters that shall be Christian from highest principle, and through and through, will be formed in the first, or even the second generation of converts, as a rule, though every mission field furnishes shining exceptions to this rule. We shall not be disheartened, then, when we come to look into the history of Alaska, if the present state of society there is found to be slightly savage still.
Dall, in his work, “Alaska and its Resources,” speaking of the Indian character, says: “They are hospitable, good humored, but not always trustworthy. They will steal, and have sometimes attacked small vessels in the straits.… They sometimes have as many as five wives, though one or two is the usual number. Drunkenness is a common vice among them. They have an uncontrollable passion for alcohol, which is plentifully supplied them by the whalers and traders. They hate the Russians, and will not trade with them.… Their customs in regard to the treatment of the old and infirm are, from a civilized point of view, brutal and inhuman.… When an old person was sick for more than seven days the others put a rope around his body and dragged him by it around the house over the stones. If this did not kill or cure, the sick person was taken to the place of the dead.… Here the individual was stoned or speared, and the body left for the dogs to devour, the latter being themselves eaten by the natives.” Of the Aleuts proper he says: “Since the time of their first intercourse with the Russians, their character, habits, mode of life, and even their very name, have been totally changed. Originally they wereactive, sprightly, and fond of dances and festivals. Their mode of worship partook more of the character of religion than that of any of the tribes, which still remain unchanged. Ground into the very dust by the oppression of ruthless invaders, their religious rights, gay festivals and determined character have all passed away. A shade of melancholy is now one of their national characteristics. All speak some Russian, and many of them can converse fluently in that language. The Aleuts are light, and nearly the same color as the Innuits of the Northwest. Their features, perhaps from the great admixture of Russian blood, are more intelligent and pleasing. They are all nominally Greek Catholics, but there is very little knowledge of the principles of true Christianity amongst them. While further advanced than any other native American tribe, they are far from civilized, except in dress, and require careful guardianship and improved methods of education to preserve them from the rapacity of the traders. The reality of their devotion to a religion which they do not comprehend may well be doubted.” He then quotes Veniamínoff’s description of the native character, with the comment that it is marked by partiality confessed, and that it is mainly due to his goodness of heart and love for the people.… In another place, speaking of mission work not Russian, he says; “In the evening, the Indians, old and young, gathered in the fort yard and sang several hymns with excellent effect. Altogether, it was a scene which would have delighted the hearts of many very good people who know nothing of Indian character, and as such will doubtless figure in some missionary report. To any one who at all understood the situation, however, the absurdity of the proceeding was so palpable that it appeared almost like blasphemy. Old Sakhuiti, who has at least eighteen wives, whose hands are bloody with repeated and most atrocious murders, who knows nothing of what we understand by right and wrong, by a future state of rewards and punishments, or by a Supreme Being—this old heathen was singing as sweetly as his voice would allow, and with quite as much comprehension of the hymn as the dogs in the yard. Indians are fond of singing; they are also fond of tobacco; and, for a pipeful apiece you may baptize a whole tribe of them. Why will intelligent men still go on, talking three or four times a year to Indians on doctrinal subjects by means of a jargon which can not express an abstract idea, and the use of which only throws ridicule on sacred things, and still call such work spreading the truths of Christianity? When the missionary will leave the trading posts, strike out into the wilderness, live with the Indians, teach them cleanliness first, morality next, and by slow and simple teaching lead their thoughts above the hunt or the camp—then, and not until then, will they be competent to comprehend the simplest principles of right and wrong.”
The history of the early dealings of the Russian expeditions with the natives is one of continued outrages and retaliations. Almost every record of voyages for discovery or trading from 1648-1800 tells of atrocities committed by the sailors, and of wholesale massacres by the natives. The sole purpose of these expeditions was gain, and no attempt was made even to conciliate, much less to evangelize, the Indians. It was not until 1793 that a ukase was issued by the Empress of Russia, authorizing the introduction of missionaries into the American colonies, but unfortunately the same ukase ordered the shipment thither of convicts from Russia, and was obeyed in the proportion of a hundred convicts to one missionary. In 1794 (May) Shílikoff brought over 190 emigrant convicts, two overseers and eleven monks, and Ióasaph, elder of the Augustine Friars, was invited to settle in the colony. All the monks were obliged to support themselves by constant work, as no provision was made for them by the government, and Ióasaph complained bitterly of the treatment they received from the Shílikoff Trading Company’s officials. At the same time, in 1795, one year after his landing, he reported the conversion of 1,200 natives, thus quite justifying the hard criticisms quoted above. The census of this colony of Kadiák in the same year gave a population of 3,600 natives. In 1796 Father Ióasaph was made bishop by imperial ukase, and returned to Irkútsk to receive his consecration. Father Iuvenáti was murdered by the natives for attempting to put down polygamy. The first Russo-Greek Church was built at Kadiák during this year. In 1799 Bishop Ióasaph, with a company of clergy, set sail for his new diocese in the ship “Fenie,” which was lost at sea with all on board, and from this time to 1810 only one monk was left in the colonies. On the 10th of June, 1810, Captain Golófnin brought one priest to Sitka in his sloop of war “Diana,” and in 1816 Father Sòlokoff arrived from Moscow, and took charge of all the mission work in the colonies. There were at the death of Governor Baránoff in 1819 five colonies of the company in the Aleutian Isles, four on Cook’s Inlet, two on Chujách Gulf, and one on Baránoff Island, in Sitka Bay, with three priests in charge, three chapels and several schools, where, however, nothing was taught except reading and writing in the ecclesiastical characters. Father Mordóffski reached Kadiák in 1823, and in 1824 the real history of the mission begins with the arrival of the noble and devoted Innocentius Veniamínoff, the Russian Selwyn, at Unaláshka, and the commencement of his life-long labors among the Aleuts. He was made bishop and transferred to Sitka in 1834, and the record of his life gives all that there is to be said about the progress of religious work among the natives, so far as the Russian Church is concerned, up to the time of the transfer of the territory to the United States. Mr. Dall’s estimate of his labors is well worth quoting here to counterbalance some other quotations that have been made from his book. He says, “Whatever of good is ingrained in their (the natives’) characters may be in great part traced to the persevering efforts of one man. This person was the Rev. Father Innocentius Veniamínoff, of the Irkútsk Seminary, since Bishop of Kamchatka. He alone of the Greek missionaries to Alaska has left behind him an undying record of devotion, self-sacrifice and love, both to God and man, combined with the true missionary fire.”
John Veniamínoff was born September 1st, 1797, graduated from the seminary at Irkútsk in 1817, and was ordained in May of that year. He was advanced to the priesthood in 1821, made Bishop of Kamchatka in 1840, and took the title of Innocent. In 1850 his see was made archiepiscopal, and in 1868 he was recalled to Russia and made successor of Philaret as Metropolitan of Moscow. In 1823 he offered himself as a missionary, and was sent by his bishop to Unaláshka. The following extracts from his own published account of his mission (“The Founding of the Orthodox Church in Russian America,” St. Petersburg, 1840) will give the best idea of what he had to do, and how well he did it: