John Demos - The Heathen School: A Story of Hope and Betrayal in the Age of the Early Republic

THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK
PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF

Copyright 2014 by John Demos

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House LLC, New York, and in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto, Penguin Random House companies.

www.aaknopf.com

Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Random House LLC.

ISBN 978-0-679-45510-3 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-385-35166-9 (eBook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013956402

Jacket images from the Friendship Album of the Foreign Mission School in the collection of the Cornwall Historical Society, Cornwall, CT
Jacket design by Megan Wilson

First Edition

v3.1_r2

To Carter Umbarger

After such knowledge, what forgiveness? Think now

History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors

And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions,

Guides us by vanities. Think now

She gives when our attention is distracted

And what she gives, gives with such supple confusions

That the giving famishes the craving.

T. S. ELIOT , Gerontion

Just a piece of local history

More than any of my previous projects, this one began with serendipity.

Summer 1996. I have gone with my wife for an evening visit to the home of an old friend in the town of Cornwall, Connecticut. Before supper we chat with other guests, one of whom begins to tell us a story from Cornwalls past. It is, he says, just a piece of local historybut interesting all the same. In fact, its very interesting; as the details unfold, Im transfixed.

A heathen school specially designed for indigenous youth from all parts of the earth Young men and boys from Hawaii, Polynesia, India, China, plus a smattering of European Jews, and quite a few Native Americans, too, all brought together in little Cornwall during the opening decades of the nineteenth century Educate them, civilize them, convert them to Christianity, then send them back to help start similar projects in their various homelands, and the entire world will be saved in the shortest time imaginable: thus the goal of the eminent Protestant ministers in charge High hopes and strong claims of initial success, followed by unexpected crisis They court, and marry, our daughters!Families torn apart, public outrage at fever pitch: the school shut down in disgrace And then, in the aftermath, two of the heathen scholars back in their own nation, leaders now, charting a painful removal process, along an infamous trail of tears Until, at the very end, comes violent death

At home later that night, I cannot sleep; what Ive heard at my friends house goes around and around in my head. The next morning, I get up early and drive straight to the library. Im anxious to discover how much this story of the heathen school has been known, and written about, previously. The answer is: not a lot. There are passing mentions in several books, and a chapter or so in at least two, but no full-fledged treatment. I drive home, and ponder. A book project is a major commitment; does this clear the bar? Is there more here than a piece of local history? It doesnt take long to decide.

Remembered now from many years later on, that moment is still vivid in my mind. The research, the thinking, the writing: All is done; only publication awaits. The process has not been easy, but I have no regrets. The story of the heathen school is local, yes, but its also a national story, even an international one. And it has taken me into some very deep layers of the American past.

One of these is the enduring legacy of American exceptionalism. At their best, our national traditions have fostered a generous spirit of outreach toward neighboring peoples and nations, a feeling of obligationnot to say missionto make the world as a whole a better place. (Think the Marshall Plan, after World War II. Think the Peace Corps. Think the ever-ready offers of American-driven relief following disasters all around the globe.) For we must consider that we shall be as a city upon a hill. The eyes of all people are upon us,

In short, its been part of Americas historythis redemptive project, this crusader mentalityall along. Its been creative and destructive, glorious and tragic, noble and ignoble, by turns. Inevitably, attitudes toward it will differ, but there is no doubting its power as a key historical theme. It both frames and suffuses the story of the heathen school.

A second large theme at the storys center is what the critic

There is a third key element to mention up front; it may sound counterintuitive, but no matter. This is a story of failure. Its dark, tragic end lies far from its bright beginning. As such, its not the sort of thing writers and readers of American history commonly look for. The national narrative we favor has a triumphalist score; progress is its central note. Yet our history is strewn with failures, large and small: projects gone awry from poor planning or bad luck, ideas missing their mark, emotions running amok, andespecially in an exceptional countrythe hubris of overreaching. Many of these are forgotten almost as soon as they conclude; often, a feeling of shame attaches to them. Sometimes the groups most directly involved acknowledge them only to claim a lesson learned, and a reason to move on as fast as possible. Yet most failures do, at the very least, tell us something about who we are as a people; we ignore them at our cost. Of course, every individual life knows personal failuremoments of falling down, or falling short. From this, too, much can be learned. As

In sum: America as a redeemer nation. The encounter of self with other. The shape and substance of failure. Plus the inherent drama of the story itself. Reasons enough for me to write this book, anddare I hopefor others to read it.

And one thing more. Along with the serendipity that got me started came fate. My father, born of Greek parentage and raised in Istanbul, was educated just after the start of the last century at a place called Anatolia College, a missionary school in a remote part of central Turkey. Indeed, the colleges original sponsor was the very same American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions that played a key role in the story of the heathen school. Anatolias students were a mix of Eastern Orthodox Greeks and Armenians, and Turkish Jews, the staff (for the most part) Protestant Americans. It was, then, itself a heathen school.

Summer 1997. Im a year into the project, and have a full day of research ahead; notes are piled high on my desk. At lunchtime I take a break to fetch the mail from our village post office. Included in the deliveries is a fund-raising brochure from Anatolia College. (The college goes on, though now relocated to northern Greece.) I am about to toss it aside, and go back to my work on the heathen school, when my gaze is drawn to an image on the brochures front; its an old photograph of the college orchestra taken many decades previous. And there, looking out at me from the middle of the photograph, is my father (age about eighteen), yet another heathen youth marked for salvation. In his left hand he grasps a trumpet.