more alteration in a street-name near Osgoode Hall. William Street,
immediately west of the Avenue leading to the University, has in recent
times been changed to Simcoe Street. It is true, William Street was
nearly in a line with the street previously known as Simcoe Street;
nevertheless, starting as it conspicuously did somewhat to the west of
that line, it was a street sufficiently distinct to be entitled to
retain an independent name. Here again, an item of local history has
been obliterated. William Street was a record on the soil of the first
name of an early Chief Justice of Upper Canada, who projected the street
and gave the land. Dummer Street, the next street westward, bears his
second name.
Of "Powell," his third name we have already spoken elsewhere, and shall
again almost immediately have to speak.
When it shall be proposed to alter the name of Dummer Street, with the
hope, perhaps, of improving the fame of the locality along with its
name, let the case of March Street be recalled. In the case of March
Street, the rose, notwithstanding a change of name, retained its
perfume: and the Colonial Minister of the day, Lord Stanley, received
but a sorry compliment when his name was made to displace that of the
Earl of March. (It was from this second title of the Duke of Richmond
that March Street had its name.)--It is probable that the Dummer Street
of to-day, like the March Street of yesterday, would, under another
name, continue much what it is. In all such quarters, it is not a change
of name that is of any avail: but the presence of the schoolmaster and
home-missionary, backed up by landlords and builders, studious of the
public health and morals, as well as of private interests.
_Digression Northward at the College Avenue._
The fine vista of the College Avenue, opposite to which we have now
arrived, always recalls to our recollection a certain bright spring
morning, when on reaching school a whole holiday was unexpectedly
announced; and when, as a mode of filling up a portion of the
unlooked-for vacant time, it was agreed between two or three young lads
to pay a visit to the place on Lot Street where, as the report had
spread amongst us, they were beginning to make visible preparations for
the commencement of the University of King's College. The minds of
growing lads in the neighbourhood of York at that period had very vague
ideas of what a University really was. It was a place where studies were
carried on, but how or under what conditions, there was of necessity
little conception. Curiosity, however, was naturally excited by the talk
on the lips of every one that a University was one day to be established
at York; and now suddenly we learned that actual beginnings were to be
seen of the much-talked-of institution. On the morning of the fine
spring day referred to, we accordingly undertook an exploration.
On arriving at the spot to which we had been directed, we found that a
long strip of land running in a straight line northwards had been marked
out, after the manner of a newly-opened side line or concession road in
the woods. We found a number of men actually at work with axes and
mattocks; yokes of oxen, too, were straining at strong ploughs, which
forced a way in amongst the roots and small stumps of the natural
brushwood, and, here and there, underneath a rough mat of tangled grass,
bringing to light, now black vegetable mould, now dry clay, now loose
red sand. Longitudinally, up the middle of the space marked off, several
bold furrows were cut, those on the right inclining to the left, and
those on the left inclining to the right, as is the wont in primitive
turnpiking.
One novelty we discovered, viz., that on each side along a portion of
the newly-cleared ground, young saplings had been planted at regular
intervals; these, we were told, were horse-chestnuts, procured from the
United States expressly for the purpose of forming a double row of trees
here. In the neighbourhood of York the horse-chestnut was then a rarity.
Everywhere throughout the North American continent, as in the numerous
newly-opened areas of the British Empire elsewhere on the globe's
surface, instances, of course, abound of wonderful progress made in a
brief interval of time. For ourselves, we seem sometimes as if we were
moving among the unrealities of a dream when we deliberately review the
steps in the march of physical and social improvement, which, within a
fractional portion only of a retrospect not very extended, can be
recalled, in the region where our own lot has been cast, and, in
particular, in the neighbourhood where we are at this moment pausing.
The grand mediaeval-looking structure of University College in the
grounds at the head of the Avenue, continues to this day to be a
surprise somewhat bewildering to the eye and mind, whenever it breaks
upon our view. It looks so completely a thing of the old world and of an
age long past away. To think that one has walked over its site before
one stone was laid upon another thereon, seems almost like a mental
hallucination.
A certain quietness of aspect and absence of overstrain after
architectural effect give the massive pile an air of great genuineness.
The irregular grouping of its many parts appears the undesigned result
of accretion growing out of the necessities of successive years. The
whole looks in its place, and as if it had long occupied it. The
material of its walls, left for the most part superficially in the
rough, has the appearance of being weather-worn. An impression of age,
too, is given by the smooth finish of the surrounding grounds and
spacious drives by which, on several sides, the building is approached,
as also by the goodly size of the well-grown oaks and other trees
through whose outstretched branches it is usually first caught sight of,
from across the picturesque ravine.
Of the still virgin condition of the surrounding soil, however, we have
some unmistakeable evidence in the ponderous granitic boulders every
here and there heaving up their grey backs above the natural greensward,
undisturbed since the day when they dropped suddenly down from the
dissolving ice-rafts that could no longer endure their weight.
Seen at a little distance, as from Yonge Street for example, the square
central tower of the University, with the cone-capped turret at its
north-east angle, rising above a pleasant horizon of trees, and outlined
against an afternoon sky, is something thoroughly English, recalling
Rugby or Warwick. On a nearer approach, this same tower, combined with
the portal below, bears a certain resemblance to the gateway of the
Abbey of Bury St. Edmunds, as figured in Palgrave's "Anglo-Saxons;" and
the elaborate and exquisite work about the recessed circular-headed
entrance enables one to realize with some degree of certainty how the
enriched front of that and other noble mediaeval structures, seen by us
now corroded and mutilated, looked when fresh from the hands that so
cunningly carved them.
In the two gigantic blind-worms, likewise, stretched in terrorem on the
sloping parapets of the steps leading to the door, benumbed, not dead;
giving in their extremities, still faint evidence of life, we have a
sermon in stone, which the brethren of a masonic guild of Wykeham's day
would readily have expounded. As we enter a house devoted to learning
and study, is it not fitting that the eye should be greeted with a
symbol of the paralyzing power of Science over Ignorance and
Superstition?
Moreover, sounds that come at stated intervals from that central tower,
make another link of sympathy with the old mother-land. Every night at
nine, "swinging slow with solemn roar," the great bell of the University
is agreeably suggestive of Christ Church, Oxford, St. Mary's, Cambridge,
and other places beyond the sea, which to the present hour give back an
echo of the ancient Curfew.
And if to this day the University building, in its exterior aspect and
accidents, is startling to those who knew its site when as yet in a
state of nature, its interior also, when traversed and explored, tends
in the same persons to produce a degree of confusion as between things
new and old; as between Canada and elsewhere. Within its walls are to be
seen appliances and conveniences and luxuries for the behoof and use of
teacher and student, unknown a few years since in many an ancient seat
of learning.
In a library of Old World aspect and arrangement, is a collection rich
in the Greek and Latin Classics, in Epigraphy and Archaeology, beyond
anything of the kind in any other collection on this continent, and
beyond what is to be met with in those departments in many a separate
College within the precincts of the ancient Universities--a pre-eminence
due to the tastes and special studies of the first president and other
early professors of the Canadian Institution.
Strange, it is, yet true that hither, as to a recognized source of
certain aid in identification and decipherment, are duly transmitted, by
cast, rubbing and photograph, the "finds" that from time to time create
such excitement and delight among epigraphists, and ethnologists, and
other minute historical investigators in the British Islands and
elsewhere.
There used to be preserved in the Old Hospital a model in cork and
card-board, of the great educational establishment to which, in the
first instance, the Avenue was expected to form an approach. It was very
curious. Had it been really followed, a large portion of the park
provided for the reception of the University would have been covered
with buildings. A multitude of edifices, isolated and varying in
magnitude, were scattered about, with gardens and ornamental grounds
interspersed. These were halls of science, lecture-rooms, laboratories,
residences for president, vice-president, professors, officials and
servants of every grade. On the widely extended premises occupied by the
proposed institution, a population was apparently expected to be found
that would, of itself, have almost sufficed to justify representation in
Parliament--a privilege the college was actually by its charter to
enjoy. We should have had in fact realized before our eyes, on a
considerable scale, a part of the dreams of Plato and More, a fragment
of Atlantis and Utopia.
When the moment arrived, however, for calling into visible being the
long contemplated seat of learning, it was found expedient to abandon
the elaborate model which had been constructed. Mr. Young, a local
architect, was directed to devise new plans. His ideas appear to have
been wholly modern. Notwithstanding the tenor of the Royal Charter,
which suggested the precedents of the old universities of "our United
Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland," wherever it should be practicable
to follow them, the architecture and arrangements customary in those
places were ignored. Girard College, Philadelphia, seems to have
inspired the new designs. However, only a minute fragment of one of the
buildings of the new plan was destined ever to exist.
The formal commencement of the abortive work took place on the 23rd of
April, 1842--a day indelibly impressed on the memory of those who
participated in the proceedings. It was one of the sunniest and
brightest of days. In the year just named it happened that so early as
St. George's day the leaves of the horse-chestnut were bursting their
glossy sheaths, and vegetation generally was in a very advanced stage.
A procession, such as had never before been seen in these parts, slowly
defiled up the Avenue to the spot where the corner-stone of the proposed
University was to be laid.
A highly wrought contemporary description of the scene is given in a
note in _Curiae Canadenses_: "The vast procession opened its ranks, and
his Excellency the Chancellor, with the President, the Lord Bishop of
Toronto, on his right, and the Senior Visitor, the Chief Justice, on his
left, proceeded on foot through the College Avenue to the University
grounds. The countless array moved forward to the sound of military
music. The sun shone out with cloudless meridian splendour; one blaze of
banners flushed upon the admiring eye.--The Governor's rich
Lord-Lieutenant's dress, the Bishop's sacerdotal robes, the Judicial
Ermine of the Chief Justice, the splendid Convocation robes of Dr.
McCaul, the gorgeous uniforms of the suite, the accoutrements of the
numerous Firemen, the national badges worn by the Office-bearers of the
different Societies, and what on such a day (St. George's) must not be
omitted, the Red Crosses on the breasts of England's congregated sons,
the grave habiliments of the Clergy and Lawyers, and the glancing lances
and waving plumes of the First Incorporated Dragoons, all formed one
moving picture of civic pomp, one glorious spectacle which can never be
remembered but with satisfaction by those who had the good fortune to
witness it. The following stanza from a Latin Ode," the note goes on to
say, "recited by Master Draper, son of the late Attorney-General, after
the ceremony, expresses in beautifully classical language the proud
occasion of all this joy and splendid pageantry:--
"Io! triumphe! flos Canadensium!
Est alma nobis mater; aemula
Britanniae haec sit nostra terra,--
Terra diu domibus negata!"
Another contemporary account adds: "As the procession drew nearer to the
site where the stone was to be laid, the 43rd Regiment lined the way,
with soldiers bearing arms, and placed on either side, at equal
intervals. The 93rd Regiment was not on duty here, but in every
direction the gallant Highlanders were scattered through the crowd, and
added by their national garb and nodding plumes to the varied beauty of
the animated scene. When the site was reached," this account says, "a
new feature was added to the interest of the ceremony. Close to the
spot, the north-east corner, where the foundation was to be deposited, a
temporary building had been erected for the Chancellor, and there,
accompanied by the officers of the University and his suite, he took his
stand. Fronting this was a kind of amphitheatre of seats, constructed
for the occasion, tier rising above tier, densely filled with ladies,
who thus commanded a view of the whole ceremony. Between this
amphitheatre and the place where the Chancellor stood, the procession
ranged itself."
The Chancellor above spoken of was the Governor General of the day, Sir
Charles Bagot, a man of noble bearing and genial, pleasant aspect. He
entered with all the more spirit into the ceremonies described, from
being himself a graduate of one of the old universities. Memories of
far-off Oxford and Christ Church would be sure to be roused amidst the
proceedings that rendered the 23rd of April, 1842, so memorable amongst
us. A brother of Sir Charles' was at the time Bishop of Oxford. In his
suite, as one of his Secretaries, was Captain Henry Bagot, of the Royal
Navy, his own son. Preceding him in the procession, bearing a large
gilded mace, was an "Esquire Bedell," like the Chancellor himself, a
Christ Church man, Mr. William Cayley, subsequently a member of the
Canadian Government.
Although breaking ground for the University building had been long
delayed, the commencement now made proved to be premature. The edifice
begun was never completed, as we have already intimated; and even in its
imperfect, fragmentary condition, it was not fated to be for any great
length of time a scene of learned labours. In 1856 its fortune was to be
converted into a Female Department for the over-crowded Provincial
Lunatic Asylum.
The educational system inaugurated in the new building in 1843 was, as
the plate enclosed in the foundation-stone finely expressed it,
"praestantissimum ad exemplar Britannicarum Universitatum." But the
"exemplar" was not, in practice, found to be, as a whole, adapted to the
genius of the Western Canadian people.
The revision of the University scheme with a view to the necessities of
Western Canada, was signalized by the erection in 1857 of a new building
on an entirely different site, and a migration to it bodily, of
president, professors and students, without departing however from the
bounds of the spacious park originally provided for the institution; and
it is remarkable that, while deviating, educationally and otherwise, in
some points, from the pattern of the ancient universities, as they were
in 1842, a nearer approach, architecturally, was made to the mediaeval
English College than any that had been thought of before. Mr.
Cumberland, the designer of the really fine and most appropriate
building in which the University at length found a resting place, was,
as is evident, a man after the heart of Wykeham and Wayneflete.
The story of our University is a part of the history of Upper Canada.
From the first foundation of the colony the idea of some such seat of
learning entered into the scheme of its organization. In 1791, before he
had yet left England for the unbroken wilderness in which his Government
was to be set up, we have General Simcoe speaking to Sir Joseph Banks,
the President of the Royal Society, of "a college of a higher class," as
desirable in the community which he was about to create. "A college of a
higher class," he says, "would be eminently useful, and would give a
tone of principles and of manners that would be of infinite support to
Government." In the same letter he remarks to Sir Joseph, "My friend the
Marquis of Buckingham has suggested that Government might allow me a sum
of money to be laid out for a Public Library, to be composed of such
books as might be useful in the colony. He instanced the Encyclopaedia,
extracts from which might occasionally be published in the newspapers.
It is possible," he adds, "private donations might be obtained, and that
it would become an object of Royal munificence."
It was naturally long before the community of Upper Canada was ripe for
a college of the character contemplated; but provision for its ultimate
existence and sustenance was made, almost from the beginning, in the
assignment to that object of a fixed and liberal portion of the public
lands of the country.
In 1819-20, Gourlay spoke of the unpreparedness of Upper Canada as yet
for a seat of learning of a high grade. Meanwhile, as a temporary
expedient, he suggested a romantic scheme. "It has been proposed," he
says, "to have a college in Upper Canada; and no doubt in time colleges
will grow up there. At present, and for a considerable period to come,
any effort to found a college would prove abortive. There could neither
be got masters nor scholars to ensure a tolerable commencement for ten
years to come; and a feeble beginning might beget a feeble race of
teachers and pupils. In the United States," he continued, "academies
and colleges, though fast improving, are yet but raw; and greatly
inferior to those in Britain, generally speaking. Twenty-five lads sent
annually at public charge from Upper Canada to British Universities,
would draw after them many more. The youths themselves, generally, would
become desirous of making a voyage in quest of learning.--Crossing the
ocean on such an errand would elevate their ideas, and stir them up to
extraordinary exertions. They would become finished preachers, lawyers,
physicians, merchants; and, returning to their native country, would
repay in wisdom what was expended in goodness and liberality. What more
especially invites the adoption of such a scheme is the amiable and
affectionate connection which it would tend to establish between Canada
and Britain. But it will not do at present to follow out the idea."
Gourlay's prediction that "in time colleges will grow up there" has been
speedily verified. The town especially, of which in its infant state he
spoke in such terms of contempt, has been so prolific of colleges that
it is now become a kind of Salamanca for the country at large; a place
of resort for students from all parts. It is well probably for Canada
that the scheme of drafting a batch of young students periodically to
the old country, was not adopted. Canada would thereby possibly, on the
one hand, have lost the services of some of the cleverest of her sons,
who, on obtaining academic distinction would have preferred to remain in
the mother country, entering on one or other of the public careers to
which academic distinction there opens the ready path; and, on the other
hand, she should, in many an instance, it is to be feared, have received
back her sons just unfitted, in temper and habit, for life under
matter-of-fact colonial conditions.
In the original planting of the Avenue, up whose fine vista we have been
gazing, the mistake was committed of imitating nature too closely.
Numerous trees and shrubs of different kinds and habits were mingled
together as they are usually to be seen in a wild primitive wood; and
thus the growth and fair development of all were hindered. The
horse-chestnuts alone should have been relied on to give character to
the Avenue; and of these there should have been on each side a double
row, with a promenade for pedestrians underneath, after the manner of
the great walks in the public parks of the old towns of Europe.
[Illustration]
XXII.
QUEEN STREET--FROM THE COLLEGE AVENUE TO BROCK STREET AND SPADINA
AVENUE.
Pursuing our way now westward from the Avenue leading to the University,
we pass the Powell park-lot, on which was, up to recent times, the
family vault of the Powells, descendants of the Chief Justice. The whole
property was named by the fancy of the first possessor, Caer-Howell,
Castle Howell, in allusion to the mythic Hoel, to whom all ap-Hoels
trace their origin. Dummer Street, which opens northward a little
further on, retains, as we have said, the second baptismal name of Chief
Justice Powell.
Beverley House and its surroundings, on the side opposite Caer Howell
estate, recall one whose name and memory must repeatedly recur in every
narrative of our later Canadian history, Sir John Robinson.--This was
the residence temporarily of Poulett Thomson, afterwards Lord Sydenham,
while present in Toronto as Governor-General of the Canadas in 1839-40.
A kitchen on a large scale which he caused to be built on the premises
of Beverley House, is supposed to have been an auxiliary, indirectly, in
getting the Union measure through the Upper Canada Parliament. In a
letter to a friend, written at Montreal in 1840, he gives a sketch of
his every-day life: it describes equally well the daily distribution of
his time here in Toronto. "Work in my room," he says, "till three
o'clock; a ride with my aide-de-camp till five; work again till dinner;
at dinner till nine; and work again till early next morning. This is my
daily routine. My dinners last till ten, when I have company, which is
about three times a week; except one night in the week, when I receive
about 150 people."
His policy was, as we know, very successful. Of the state of things at
Toronto, and in Upper Canada generally, after the Union measure had been
pushed through, he writes to a friend thus: "I have prorogued my
Parliament," he says, "and I send you my Speech. Never was such
unanimity! When the Speaker read it in the Commons, after the
prorogation, they gave me three cheers, in which even the ultras united.
In fact, as the matter stands now, the Province is in a state of peace
and harmony which, three months ago, I thought was utterly hopeless."
In a private letter of the following year (1841), he alludes to his
influence in these terms: "I am in the midst," he says, "of the bustle
attending the opening of the Session, and have, besides, a ministerial
'crisis' on my hands. The latter I shall get through triumphantly,
unless my _wand_, as they call it here, has lost all power over the
members, which I do not believe to be the case." This was written at
Kingston, where, it will be remembered, the seat of Government was
established for a short time after the union of Upper and Lower Canada.
Through Poulett Thomson, Toronto for a few months and to the extent of
one-half, was the seat of a modern feudal barony. On being elevated to
the peerage, the Governor-General, who had carried the Union, was
created Baron Sydenham of Sydenham in Kent and Toronto in Canada.