west of Lake Michigan, had formed a town-site partnership with Stevens T.
Mason, then Governor of Michigan Territory. These gentlemen preempted
several tracts of government land at presumably desirable spots in the
wilderness. Doty advanced the respective claims of these tracts, giving
them maps and attractive names. His favorite was an undulating isthmus
between Lakes Monona and Mendota,[11] in the heart of Southern Wisconsin,
midway between Lake Michigan and the Mississippi River. This claimant he
named "Madison," after the third President of the United States.
It was freely alleged at the time that Doty presented choice lots in
Madison to his legislative friends. However this may be, the ostensible
arguments produced were: that the chief centres of settlement in the
northeast (Green Bay), the southeast (Milwaukee), and the southwest (the
lead region) were so widely separated and had such divergent interests that
to select one would alienate the others and make it impossible to
harmoniously conduct the territorial government; again, that to build up
one corner of the Territory at the expense of the others would unequally
distribute the population; it was also urged that the unsettled central
portion of the Territory needed the incentive to growth which the capital
would give it; and lastly, Doty, the only man in Belmont that winter who
seems to have known Madison, declared the site to be the most beautiful
spot in the Wisconsin forest. And thus Madison won.
Beyond the understanding that the centre of the Capitol Park was to be the
common corner of four sections of land which met near the middle of the
isthmus, there had as yet been no thought of how this projected town in the
woods should be laid out. A French half-breed, Olivier Armel, who had a
temporary trading shanty on the tract, half brush and half canvas, was the
only man whom the surveyor found when he arrived in a blinding snowstorm
in February (1837) to set the stakes in this virgin wilderness for the
future State House of Wisconsin. The streets of the town were laid out, so
far as possible, upon the lines of the national capital: wide avenues
radiating from the Capitol Park upon the points of the compass were
bisected by other highways paralleling the shores of the two principal
lakes. For names of the thoroughfares, the patriotic surveyor had recourse
to the list of signatures to the federal Constitution, probably the only
instance of a city's streets being exclusively named from this venerable
body of lawgivers.
The first dwelling in Madison was a log house built in April by one Eben
Peck, for the entertainment of the mechanics who were expected out from
Milwaukee to construct the State House. It was June 10th before the
building commissioner and his thirty-six workmen put in an appearance,
after a toilsome overland journey of ten days through rain and mud, with no
roads, and unbridged rivers which had either to be forded or swam. On the
4th of July the conerstone was laid "with appropriate toasts and speeches"
by a small knot of territorial officials.
[Illustration THE FIRST EXECUTIVE RESIDENCE (STILL STANDING) IN USE BY
GOVERNOR DOTY.]
It was January, 1839, before the territorial Legislature could be
accommodated at Madison; and even then the situation brought little
comfort. Says a pioneer of those days: "With the session came crowds of
people. The public houses were literally crammed--shakedowns were looked
upon as a luxury, and lucky was the guest whose fortune it was to rest his
weary limbs on a straw or hay mattress."
The little village was charmingly situated in the primeval forest. One of
Madison's early teachers thus wrote of the hamlet of his young manhood:
"Those who only know of Madison now, have but a feeble
conception of its wonderful and fascinating beauty at the
beginning. In 1839 it had the look of a well-kept lawn, shaded
by fine white-oak and burr-oak trees, with a fragrant fringe of
red cedar all about the lake shores. There was then no
underbrush and thicket such as sprung up soon, when the
semi-annual fires ceased to do the duty of the rake and mower;
but the eye had a stretch quite uninterrupted, except as the
surface rose in beautiful green knolls on either lake. The
lakes then lay in natural silver beauty, prettily framed in
pebbly beach. For simple, quiet beauty, Madison in 1839 was
unequalled by anything I remember."
Despite its natural attractiveness, and its presumably favorable location,
Madison was a plant of slow growth. In the summer of 1838 the census
revealed the presence here of only sixty-two people, and it is recorded
that there were at that time "not more than a dozen houses, built and in
process of erection, counting every cabin and shanty within three miles of
the Capitol," while Indian wigwams were frequently set up within sight of
the doors. Four years later there were but 172 people, and in 1846 but 632.
By the close of 1850, however, the population had, largely as the result of
a mild "boom" in that year, grown to 1672. Five years later Horace Greeley
and Bayard Taylor paid the place a visit, and in letters to the New York
_Tribune_ highly extolled its beauties. As a result there was an almost
immediate increase of population and a considerable advance in the price of
real estate; so that at the outbreak of the Civil War there were 7000
Madisonians.
[Illustration PROFILE ROCK ON LAKE MENDOTA.]
Notwithstanding the general prevalence of financial stringency, Madison
prospered during the war. The State's troops were largely mobilized here,
and constantly enlivened the streets; a great deal of money was necessarily
spent by the State and nation for supplies and salaries, as well as by the
soldiers themselves, so that throughout it all the town grew substantially.
In 1870 there were 10,000 citizens, but the next decade only slightly
advanced this census. About 1882, however, a variety of causes led to the
commencement of a stronger growth--chiefly the rapid development of the
State University, the expansion of the State's administrative affairs, the
bettering of railroad facilities, and an enlargement of local manufacturing
interests. During the past eighteen years there has been a steady gain,
with every indication of permanency; the census of 1900 revealed the
presence at the Wisconsin capital of 20,000 residents, while an additional
5000 dwell in closely abutting suburbs.
Frequent attempts to remove the capital to Milwaukee were long a potent
factor in retarding the development of Madison. In 1870 the effort was
nearly successful. The fact, however, that the State had by this time
invested large sums of money in public buildings in and around Madison,
particularly in the State University,--which institution must, by the terms
of the constitution, be situated "at or near the seat of State
government,"--has of late years cooled the ardor of advocates of removal,
so that no fear of renewed agitation is now entertained.
In the early annals of this peaceful little city in the undulating oak
grove between Monona and Mendota,--surrounded on every hand by
far-stretching lakes and marshes, and thus in a measure isolated from her
rural neighbors,--the historian finds little of stirring interest; and that
little almost always the reflex of the Legislature, which annually until
1882, when the sessions were made biennial, came and went with much bustle
and sometimes brawl. The legislative sessions were, in ante-bellum days,
the events of the year, and attracted prominent men from all quarters of
Wisconsin. The crude hotels were filled each winter with legislators,
lobbyists and visiting politicians. The humors of the time were often
uncouth. There was a deal of horse-play, hard drinking, and profanity, and
occasionally a personal encounter during the heat of discussion: as in
1842, when Charles C.P. Arndt, of Brown, was killed on the floor of the
council chamber by his fellow-member, James R. Vineyard, of Grant, an
event to which Dickens alluded in his _American Notes_, and which gained
for Wisconsin an unenviable notoriety the country over. But an undercurrent
of good nature was generally observable, and strong attachments were more
frequently noticeable than feuds.
[Illustration VIEW OF MADISON ACROSS LAKE MONONA.]
Dancing and miscellaneous merry-making were the order of the times, and
society at the capital was, from the first, thought to be fashionable. Even
when the Legislature was not in session, Madison long remained the social
as well as the political centre of Wisconsin, and overland travellers
between the outlying settlements on the shores of the Mississippi and Lake
Michigan or Green Bay were wont to tarry here upon their way. Several of
them have left us, in journals and in letters, pleasing descriptions of
their reception by the good-natured inhabitants, and the impressions made
on them by the natural attractions of this beauty-spot.
In 1856, Madison was the scene of political excitement of a serious
character. William Barstow (Democrat) claimed to have been reelected
Governor over Coles Bashford (Republican), by 157 majority. The Democrats
controlled the State board of canvassers, and the Republicans claimed that
this board had tampered with the returns. Upon January 27th both Barstow
and Bashford took the oath of office, but the former and his friends
continued to hold the State House. The State Supreme Court was called upon
by Bashford, in a _quo warranto_ suit, to oust the incumbent and give the
office of Governor to the relator. Thus commenced the most celebrated case
ever tried by this bench. This was the first time in the history of the
United States that a State court had been called upon to decide as to the
right of a Governor to hold his seat. Its jurisdiction was questioned by
Barstow's attorneys. The contest waged fiercely for some weeks, with
eminent counsel on both sides, the court at last holding that it had
jurisdiction. The court then proceeded with its inquiry, and March 24th
declared that Bashford had received a majority of 1009. A few days before
this Barstow had resigned, and Lieutenant-Governor McArthur was holding the
office by virtue of the constitution. McArthur was defiant, and announced
his determination to hold the post at all hazards. But the court promptly
ruled that Barstow's title being worthless, McArthur could not, of course,
succeed to it.
Throughout this long contest, it may well be imagined that popular
excitement in and around Madison ran high. The respective bands of
partisans were armed and drilling, in anticipation of a desperate
encounter. It would have taken small provocation to ignite this tinder-box,
but the management on both sides was judicious; and although the opposing
forces had frequent quarrels, and made numerous and vigorous threats of
violence, no blows were struck. Upon the day after the court's decision
Bashford and a bodyguard advanced through corridors crowded with his
followers, to McArthur's office, and, showing his writ, quietly announced
that he would henceforth take charge of State affairs. McArthur hesitated,
but a glance at the threatening crowd induced him to retire hurriedly
through the door. The friends of Bashford cheered in triumph, and then
poured into the office to congratulate the new Governor.
As has been previously stated, the corner-stone of the old territorial
State House was laid July 4, 1837. The building cost about $60,000. An old
engraving of the structure, which we herewith reproduce, shows that it was
of the then prevalent Americanized-Greek style of which there are still
remaining a few examples, chiefly in the Southern States; contemporary
accounts agree that it was rather superior in character to most of the
Western capitols of sixty years ago. In 1857, the Legislature authorized
the enlargement of the capitol. This "enlargement" was but nominal; the
plans developed into a new building on the site of the old, to cost
somewhat over half a million dollars. Lack of funds because of the Civil
War caused the work to proceed slowly, so that it was 1870 before the dome
of the new State House was completed. In 1882, two new transverse wings
were provided for. Thus the total cost of the present capitol and the
development of the surrounding park has been about $900,000. The building
is, however, now sadly behind the times in respect of light, ventilation
and sanitary conveniences, and there is some thought of a new State House
which shall be more nearly worthy of a rich and fast-growing commonwealth
of over two millions of people.
[Illustration THE FIRST STATE HOUSE, MADISON.]
The University of Wisconsin was incorporated under an act of Legislature
approved the 26th day of July, 1848; but it was the 16th of January, 1850,
before the first chancellor was inaugurated, and the 5th of February before
the doors were opened for the reception of pupils. During the first twenty
years of its existence, the institution was beset with vicissitudes, and
obliged to battle against popular indifference and even opposition. The
congressional land grants which were designed to create a fund for its
endowment were recklessly disposed of by the legislatures of the 50's,
avowedly to encourage speedy settlement of the State, under the plea that
when the commonwealth became well populated it would be rich enough to
support the University by taxation; it was also maintained that pioneers
had little need for or patience with higher education. Gradually, the
University gained recognition as the logical head of the educational system
of the State; and at last, after a half-century of growth, it has developed
from a rustic academy of twenty students into an institution of national
reputation, with a talented faculty giving instruction to nearly 3000
students, assembled from many States and countries.
[Illustration MADISON FROM THE STATE HOUSE SHOWING UNIVERSITY BUILDINGS IN
THE DISTANCE.]
[Illustration PROFESSOR WILLIAM FRANCIS ALLEN.]
The University is admirably situated, chiefly upon two hills lying a mile
to the west of the State House and commanding wide views of the surrounding
country. The grounds comprise about 350 acres of hill and plain, the
western half of which is occupied by the buildings and experimental farm of
the College of Agriculture. Mendota, the largest and most beautiful of the
chain of lakes, lies directly to the north, its attractive shores often
rising into steep bluffs, surmounted by summer cottages, or swelling into
distant hills besprinkled with prosperous farmsteads, while the towers and
chimneys of the State Hospital for the Insane fret the sky-line beyond the
farthest bay. A broad straight avenue leads directly eastward to the ridge
crowned by the white dome of the State House; while to the south the view
ordinarily ends with the silvery expanse of Lake Monona, glistening through
the trees, but when the foliage has thinned, the southern horizon is
sufficiently extended, both from town and university vantage-points, to
comprise the far-off waters of Lake Waubesa. The outlook from University
Hill, over-topping the tree-embowered town, which spreads gracefully, with
up-thrust tower and dome and steeple, over Monona Ridge, is, particularly
upon a moonlit night in summer, one of the most charming in America; while
from Observatory Hill, just westward, one obtains a widely extended view of
lakes and forest and purple hills which, especially under the glow of
sunset, has won the unstinted plaudits of competent critics, some of whom
have likened it to Old World scenes far-famed in song and story.
Few of the buildings of the State University are architecturally worthy of
mention here. The original structures were North and South Halls, mere
four-story stone boxes. The Doric University Hall, surmounting University
Hill, and one of the early buildings, has of recent years been greatly
improved and extended, and now has some dignity of outline as well as
historic association. The new Engineering Building, in gray brick, is
pleasing in form and color; Science Hall and the Gymnasium, great piles of
staring red brick, are conspicuous examples of the average college
buildings of our day; while the best one can say of the old Library Hall,
Chemical Building, Machine Shop, and Chadbourne Hall (the women's
dormitory) is that they will continue to serve a useful purpose until the
day when the State feels inclined to replace them with creditable
structures. Upon Observatory Hill is the dignified Washburn Observatory,
and upon the western slope the growing mass of buildings appertaining to
the State Experimental Farm maintained by the College of Agriculture.
[Illustration UNIVERSITY HALL, STATE UNIVERSITY.]
At the eastern (townward) front of University Hill, and occupying land once
a part of the campus, a building has of late been reared by the
commonwealth which not only is far better than any of the University
structures, but quite outranks in dignity and thoroughness of modern
construction and equipment all other buildings owned by the State of
Wisconsin. This is the home of the library and museum of the State
Historical Society. The University library and its accompanying seminary
rooms for advanced study, each with its special library, occupy quarters
here, but the building itself is administered by the society, which serves
as the trustee of the State. Built in the Italian Doric order, of Bedford
sandstone, the State Historical Library Building is massive, dignified, and
graceful, a worthy housing for one of the most important reference
libraries in America. The Wisconsin Historical Society[12] has long ceased
to be merely a feature of Madison or of Wisconsin; it is to-day regarded as
one of the foremost institutions of this character in the country--its
splendid library of 235,000 volumes being one of the finest collections of
Americana extant, rich in maps and manuscripts as well as books; and its
publications rank with those of the similar societies of Massachusetts, New
York, and Pennsylvania.
[Illustration STATE HISTORICAL LIBRARY BUILDING.]
Madison is fortunate in her elementary and secondary public schools as well
as in possessing the State University; while several admirable private and
denominational schools have found it desirable to settle here, under the
wing of the great group of State colleges. As is becoming in an educational
centre, much attention is here paid to church life. The large congregations
have been careful to select for their pulpits men of prominence and
ability, fitted to attract the student mind; and the Christian associations
connected with the State University are conducted upon a high plane of
usefulness.
In Madison there dwell three well-accentuated classes of inhabitants: those
relying upon trade and industry, the State and federal officials, and the
university element, each of them growing in numbers and importance. There
is, however, far less differentiation of interests and aspirations than is
commonly seen in college towns. It has for many years been the continual
aim of several influential clubs, notably the Woman's, the Literary, the
Contemporary, the Six O'clock, and the Town and Gown,--in which both
"townfolk" and "gown folk" freely commingle,--to break down the usual class
barriers. The result is that college men coming to Madison from other
institutions find here few of the sharp social distinctions to which they
have elsewhere become accustomed.
But while town and gown are practically one in Madison, the official class
has not until of late been conspicuous in her social life. The brevity of
political tenure, rendering the permanent inhabitants in a measure
indifferent to the "come-and-goes," has doubtless had much to do with
this; while a contributory element has been the fact that many State
officials, finding the cost of living at the capital somewhat higher than
in the small interior towns, have heretofore left their families at home.
With the new statute prohibiting public employés from using railroad
passes, transportation to and from home now forms an important item of
expense to the office holder, and a large proportion of them are moving
their families to the seat of government. It is fair to predict that,
through the influence of the clubs, which have recently taken upon
themselves the payment of social courtesies to the official class, these
barriers may in turn be removed, as they have between town and gown.
[Illustration GENERAL LUCIUS FAIRCHILD EX-MINISTER TO SPAIN.]
The native American element in Madison is chiefly from New York State, with
a large sprinkling of New Englanders, especially from Vermont. Perhaps one
third of the 25,000 people in this community are of German parentage, and
there is a considerable and influential Scandinavian element, mostly
Norwegian; numerous other nationalities there are, but these are the most
conspicuous. Despite this large foreign contingent, however, and the
cosmopolitan tone of university society, the strong flavor of Vermont and
New York, originally given to this community in the days before the Civil
War, is still the dominant characteristic in the social life of Madison.
Many discriminating visitors frequently in their hours of first
impressions, liken her to a staid New England college town; while others
revert to some demure hill-town of Western New York for the type which best
describes the social side of this city of the Wisconsin lakes.
The railroad facilities of Madison are undoubtedly remarkable for a town of
its size; these are attracting wholesale houses and warehousemen, and new
factories are talked of. The existing industries employ some fifteen
hundred men. The schools, the university, the unusual library facilities
and the beauty and healthfulness of the town bring to it an ever-increasing
accession of cultured people with moderate fixed incomes. Summer visitors
from St. Louis, New Orleans, and other southern cities of the Mississippi
Valley are encouraged to come to the Four Lakes. The comfort of the
inhabitants is greatly enhanced by a system of macadamized streets which is
relatively the best in Wisconsin; and there is also maintained, by popular
subscription, a labyrinth of twenty-five miles of suburban drives,
enriched by the art of the landscape gardener, and leading to favorite
view-points. A "Forty Thousand Club" is strenuously seeking to exploit and
double the material interests of the town, within the present decade. But
when all is said, Madison's distinguishing characteristics, as well as her
neighborhood gossip, will probably long remain such as properly pertain to
the political and educational centre of a rapidly developing commonwealth.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[11] The Indian names now given to the lakes of this region are modern
appellations; originally they were numbered First, Second, Third, and
Fourth as they progressed towards the source--the order in which they were
encountered by the federal surveyors in ascending the Catfish, a branch of
Rock River, and the outlet of the lakes. Their present names, adopted in
1856, are Kegonsa, Waubesa, Monona, and Mendota, respectively.
[12] The author has, of course, omitted to say what many of his readers
understand, that as secretary he has had a large share in giving the
Wisconsin Historical Society its conspicuous position in the public
mind.--EDITOR.
[Illustration]
MINNEAPOLIS--ST. PAUL
THE TWIN CITIES
BY CHARLES B. ELLIOTT
"We are citizens of two fair cities," said a Genoese gentleman
to a Florentine artist, "and if I were not a Genoese I should
wish to be a Florentine." "And I," replied the artist, "if I
were not Florentine--" "You would wish to be a Genoese," said
the other. "No," replied the artist, "I should wish to be
Florentine."