King William, and the Church was put in mourning. Before his decease,
Mr. Joseph Dudley, who had rendered himself so obnoxious here, as in
many things the coadjutor, and, for his own selfish ends almost the
creature of Randolph, had interest enough to obtain while in London,
the appointment of Governor of Massachusetts, which he had so long
and eagerly coveted. On his reappearance in Boston, invested with
his new dignity, he was received kindly and with a forgetfulness of
past offences. He joined himself to the congregation of _Queen’s
Chapel_, as it was now called, on the accession of Queen Anne; and
his name, together with that of the Lieutenant-Governor, constantly
appears on the list of vestrymen.
At the Easter meeting in 1708, it was “agreed, that on Whitsunmonday
there be a meeting of the congregation about enlarging the Queen’s
Chappell.” The work, however, seems not to have been commenced till the
year 1710, when a subscription was raised to effect its accomplishment.
It amounted, indeed, to a rebuilding of the church, which was enlarged
to twice its original size; nor was it till the year 1713, that the
pillars, capitals and cornice were painted, and the scaffolding taken
down. Places were assigned anew to the proprietors, and each person
paid for the building of his own pew. And whereas the pews had been
built before, according to the usual fashion, with little rails or
banisters running round the top, it was now voted that they should
“be built in one forme without banisters.” The pulpit was removed
from its former situation “to the next pillar at the East, being near
the centre of the Church.” The two long pews fronting the pulpit were
made into two square pews, one for Col. Tailer, Lieutenant-Governor,
the other for Mr. Jekyll, and the two pews behind them were made into
one, for the use of masters of vessels; and the pew behind that was
appropriated to the accommodation of eight old men. A shell was placed
over the south door.
A clock was given by “the Gentlemen of the British Society”; and a more
important present, that of an organ, demands a more particular notice.
_A Record of Votes and Resolutions, etc., together with some brief
Memoirs of the Transactions relating to the Rebuilding King’s Chapel
in Boston_ begins with stating that King’s Chapel was first erected
of wood in the year 1688, that it was enlarged in 1710, and being
found in the year 1741 in a state of considerable decay, that it was
proposed to rebuild it of stone. The Rev. Roger Price was at that time
“minister,” and William Shirley, Esq. (about the same time appointed
Governor of the Province), and Mr. Sam’l Wentworth, wardens. A
voluntary subscription was set on foot, and Peter Faneuil, Esq., chosen
treasurer for receiving sums subscribed. The building was to be stone
and cost £25,000 old tenor. It was not to be commenced till £10,000
were subscribed.
In March, 1753, the new church being so far advanced that it was
necessary to desert the old one, the congregation requested and
obtained leave to meet in Trinity Church on Sundays, at separate hours
from the congregation of that church, and on festival and prayer days
in Mr. Croswell’s meeting-house. In April the old church was pulled
down. Before it falls to the ground, let us take such a glimpse of its
venerable interior, as the mist of dim ages will allow us.
Since the enlargement of the Chapel in 1710, and the erection
subsequently of galleries, it contained 122 pews, of which number 82
were on the ground floor. But these pews must have been small, as the
present church contains no more. The pulpit was on the north side of
the church, at about the midst. A finely decorated pew for the Governor
who sat successively in it, was opposite; and near it there was another
pew reserved for the officers of the British Army and Navy. In the west
gallery of this first Episcopal Church was the first organ which ever
pealed to the praise of God in this country; while displayed along its
walls, and suspended from its pillars, after the manner of foreign
churches, were escutcheons and coats-of-arms being those of the King,
Sir Edmund Andros, Francis Nicholson, Captain Hamilton, and Governors
Dudley, Shute, Burnet, Belcher and Shirley. In the pulpit there was
an hourglass, according to the old fashion, mounted on a large and
elaborate stand of brass. At the east end there was “the Altar piece,
whereon was the Glory painted, the Ten Commandments, the Lord’s Prayer,
the Creed and some texts of Scripture.” It was a strange sight among
the bare churches of New England.
In 1756 the noble organ which now stands in our west gallery was
procured from England, and paid for by the subscription of individuals
belonging to the church. Its original cost in London was £500 sterling;
and when all charges were added, its whole expense amounted to £637.
As it was obtained by private subscription, no notice of it whatever
is taken in the church records. The only memorial concerning it with
which I am acquainted, is a paragraph in the _Boston Gazette and
Country Journal_ of 30th of August, 1756, which is copied into our
later records, and is as follows:
“We hear that the organ, which lately arrived from London by Capt.
Farr for King’s Chapel in this Town, will be opened on Thursday next
in the Afternoon; and that said organ (which contains a variety of
curious stops never yet heard in these parts) is esteemed by the most
eminent masters in England, to be equal, if not superior to any of the
same size in Europe.--There will be a sermon suitable to the occasion;
Prayers to begin at four o’clock.”
There is a very current tradition respecting this organ, that it
was selected by Handel himself. Taking into consideration the above
reference to “the most eminent masters in England,” we may receive
this tradition as founded in truth. And, moreover, as the organ was
designed for the King’s Chapel in New England, we may readily suppose
that his Majesty’s favourite musician would at least be desired to give
his opinion of its merits; and this opinion, being favourable, might
be called a selection, even if the “mighty master” gave himself no
further trouble with its purchase. Handel died in 1758, and was blind
eight years before his death. But sight was not at all necessary in the
office supposed to be consigned to him, and though his eyes never could
have measured the external proportions of this organ, his ears must
probably have judged of its tones and powers and his own hands rested
on its keys.
In 1772, an additional service of plate, together with new pulpit
furniture, was obtained from the King through the influence of Governor
Hutchinson. In 1773, the ancient records end. A short time previous to
the breaking out of the war, and through the whole of the year 1775,
King’s Chapel was the place of worship of many of the officers of the
Navy and Army of Great Britain, who were stationed in and near Boston;
and the duties of Dr. Caner and his assistant were consequently much
increased.
The Chapel remained closed till the autumn of 1777; and then it was
opened, not for Episcopal but Congregational services, very contrary
to all the anticipations of Dr. Caner. The congregation of the Old
South Church, not being able at that time to repair the desolations of
their own sanctuary, which had been desecrated, spoiled, and used as
a riding-school by the British troops, applied for the use of King’s
Chapel, or the Stone Chapel, as it then for obvious reasons began to be
called. The application was made to the few proprietors of the Chapel
who were left, and was readily granted. “The congregation,” says Mr.
Wisner, in his _History of the Old South Church_, “were kindly and
gratuitously accommodated at the Chapel about five years.”
Our church as a building has undergone no considerable change since the
Revolution, except the erection of the colonnade at the West End, or
Front, which was put up in the year 1790. The crown and mitre have, to
be sure, disappeared from their stations on the top of the organ, and
the Governor’s pew, with its Corinthian pillars and crimson damask
tapestry, has been taken down and converted into two pews of common
size and pretensions. But the architecture and interior arrangements,
are, in all other respects, the same as before the war.
SOME BUILDINGS IN HAVANA
RICHARD DAVEY
Notwithstanding the mosquito nuisance and bad drainage, the traveller’s
first impression of Havana is distinctly agreeable, and the pleasing
illusion is never completely destroyed. The harbour is wonderfully
picturesque. Opposite the entrance stands the Moro Castle, almost a
_facsimile_ of that curious little castellated Moorish fortress which
faces the beautiful monastery and Church of Belem, at Lisbon. To
the left are two rather sharp promontories, crested by several fine
churches, on _Los Angeles_, fully two hundred years old--an age in the
New World, corresponding to hoar antiquity in the Old,--beyond these,
upon a number of low-lying hills, rises the city, an irregular mass of
one-storied dwellings, painted a vivid ochre, and interspersed with
church domes and towers--with here and there tall, lank cocoa palms,
or a tuft of banana leaves waving over some garden wall. Vessels
from every part of the world, feluccas, with their swallow-shaped
sails, some dazzling white, others a deep-red brown, fill up the
foreground--whilst canoe-like market boats laden with tropical fruits,
fish, vegetables and flowers, and rowed by negroes naked to the waist,
scud in all directions over the deep blue waters.
[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL, HAVANA]
Arriving, as I did, from New York, which I had left deep in snow,
this summer scene was most exhilarating, and the exceeding transparency
of the Cuban atmosphere added considerably to its beauty. Everything
seemed unusual, novel, and, above all, utterly unlike what I had
expected. The impress of the mother-country, Spain, is felt and seen
everywhere, and modern American influences are barely perceptible, as
yet. From the sea Havana might be Malaga or Cadiz, but when you land,
memories of Pompeii immediately crowd upon you. What we should call the
city proper, the commercial quarter of the Cuban capital, consists of
a labyrinth of narrow lanes, traversed by one or two broadish streets,
the principal of which, known all over Southern America and the West
Indies as Calle O’Reilly, runs from the Governor’s Palace, right out
to the walls of the city. Few of the houses which line these lanes and
alleys are more than one story high, but that one story so exceedingly
lofty, that it would make three in an average London dwelling. The
lower half of every house is painted either a deep darkish blue, a
deep Egyptian red, or a vivid yellow ochre; the upper part is always
a dazzling white. As in Pompeii you notice rows of stucco columns,
painted half one colour, half another. Peeping through the ever-open
doorways, you may, as you pass along, obtain something more than a
mere casual glimpse of the interior of the dwellings. If you are early
enough, you may behold the family at its toilet, for there is very
little privacy anywhere in Cuba, every act, from entry into life to
its final exit, from baptism to burial, being serenely performed in
the utmost publicity. The lower windows, overlooking the street, are
protected by heavy iron bars, and behind these you may, in certain
quarters of the town, see lively groups of Havanese Geishas, their
faces thickly powdered with rice flour, their long black hair plaited,
and their opulent charms displayed to liberal advantage--“_sono donn
che fano all’ amore!_” These same curious overhanging windows, with
their iron bars, would give the place a prison-like appearance, were
they not painted in the most brilliant colours,--orange, scarlet, and
pea-green.
There is no West End, so to speak, in Havana, the mansions of the
wealthy being scattered through every part of the city. Some of the
finer houses are exceedingly handsome, but they are all built on one
plan, in the classical style, with an inner courtyard, surrounded by
handsome marble or stucco columns. I imagine them to be designed much
on the same plan as the villas of ancient Rome. In the centre of the
_Pateo_, there is generally a garden, rich in tropical vegetation,
shading either a fountain or a large gilded aviary full of brilliant
parrots and parrakeets. In some houses there is a picture or statue of
the Virgin, or some Saint, with a silver lamp burning before it day
and night. In the _Pateo_ the family assembles of an evening, the
ladies in full dress--and as it is generally brilliantly illuminated,
the pleasant domestic scene adds greatly to the gay appearance of the
streets, which fill with loungers in the cool of the evening.
The handsomest street in Havana is the Cerro, a long thoroughfare
running up a hill at the back of the town, bordered on either side
by enormous old villas, in the midst of magnificent gardens. The
finest of these mansions belongs to the very old Hernandez family, and
is built of white marble in the usual classical style. The adjacent
villa, Santo Veneo has a lovely garden, and used to be famous for its
collection of orchids, the late Countess de Santo Veneo, a very wealthy
lady, being a great collector. She was a clever, agreeable woman,
well-known in Paris where she usually spent the summer and autumn. In
the midst of a perfect forest of cocoa-palms stands the former summer
villa of the Bishops of Havana, now a private residence.
Then, one after the other, follow the handsome dwellings of the
Havanese Sangre Azul, of the Marquese dos Hermanos, of the Conde
Penalver, of the Marqueza de Rio Palma, etc. The cacti in these villa
gardens are of amazing size and shape, some showing leaves thick
enough to bear the weight of a full grown man. Unfortunately, these
Havana Edens are infested all the year round by swarms of mosquitos.
The residents seem skin proof, and do not appear to suffer from the
insects’ attacks. But woe waits on the unwary newcomer who tempts fate
by lingering in these lovely gardens!
Although an eminently Catholic city, Havana cannot be said to be rich
in churches. A goodly number have been destroyed during the various
rebellions, especially those of the middle of the century, when the
religious orders were suppressed. The largest church is the Mercede, a
fine building in the _rococo_ style with handsome marble altars
and some good pictures. It is crowded on Sundays and holidays by
the fashionable world of the place, the young men forming up in rows
outside the church as soon as Mass is over, to gaze at the senoritas
and their chaperons.
The Cathedral is the chief architectural monument of interest in
Havana. It was erected for the Jesuits in 1704, and was converted into
a Cathedral in the course of the Nineteenth Century. It is built in the
usual Hispano-American style with a big dome and two stumpy towers on
either side of the centre. Internally the effect is rather heavy, owing
to the dark colour of the marbles which cover the walls, but compared
with most churches in these latitudes, the edifice is in exceptionally
good taste, with a remarkable absence of the tawdry images and
wonderful collections of trumpery, artificial flowers and glass shades,
which, as a rule, disfigure South American churches. The choir would
be considered handsome even in Rome, and the stalls are beautifully
carved in mahogany. Almost all the columns in the church are also
mahogany, highly polished, producing the effect of a deep red marble,
most striking when relieved, as in this case, by gilt bronze capitals.
In the choir is the tomb of Columbus. The great navigator died, as
most of my readers will doubtless be aware, at Valladolid, in Spain,
on Ascension Day, 1506, and his body was at first deposited, after the
most pompous obsequies, in the Church of San Francisco, in that city.
In 1513, the remains were conveyed to the Carthusian monastery of La
Quabas, at Seville, where Ferdinand and Isabella erected a monument
over them, bearing the simple but appropriate inscription:
“_A Castile y Leon
Nuevo Mundo Dio Colon._”
Twenty-three years later, the body of Columbus, with that of his son
Diego, was removed to the island of San Domingo or Hayti, and interred
in the principal church of the capital; but when that island was ceded
to the French, the Spaniards claimed the ashes of the Discoverer, and
they were carried to Havana and solemnly interred in the Cathedral,
on the 15th January, 1796. The remains, which, by this time, it
seems, were scanty enough, were placed in a small urn, deposited in
a niche in the left wall of the chancel, and sealed up with a marble
slab, surmounted by an excellent bust of the bold explorer, wreathed
with laurel. The inscription, a very poor one, excited considerable
ridicule, and a pasquinade was circulated, lamenting the absence of the
nine Muses on the occasion of its composition.
Of late years, however, the inhabitants of San Domingo have set up a
protest in favour of certain bones which have been discovered in their
own Cathedral, and declare by their gods or by their saints, that never
a bone of Columbus left their island, and that the relics of the great
Christopher in the Cathedral of Havana, unto which so many pilgrimages
have been made, are as apocryphal as were those of certain saints
mentioned by the learned Erasmus.
Of the other numerous Havanese churches there is not much to be said,
except that nearly all have remarkable ceilings, decorated in a sort
of mosaic work in rare woods, often very artistic in design. Columns
of mahogany are frequently seen, and nearly all the churches are
lined with very old Spanish or Dutch tiles. The Church of Santa Clara,
attached to a very large nunnery, is a favourite place of devotion with
the fashionable ladies, who squat on a piece of carpet in front of the
Madonna, with their negro attendant kneeling a few feet behind them.
When the lady has performed her devotions, the sable footman takes up
her carpet, and follows her out of the church, walking solemnly a few
feet behind her. In the Church of the Mercede, there is a very curious
picture representing a group of Indians being slaughtered by a number
of Spaniards. In the centre is a wooden cross, upon the transverse
portions of which Our Lady is seated, holding the infant Jesus in
her arms. In the corner is a long inscription of some historical
importance. It runs thus:
“The Admiral, Don Christopher Columbus and the Spanish Army, being
possessed of the ‘Cerro de la Vaga,’ a place in the Spanish island,
erected on it a cross, on whose right arm, the 2d of May, 1492, in the
night, there appeared, with her most precious Son, the Virgin, Our Lady
of Mercy. The Indians, who occupied the island, as soon as they saw
Her, drew their arrows and fired at Her, but, as the arrows could not
pierce the sacred wood, the Spaniards took courage, and, falling upon
the said Indians, killed a great number of them. And the person who saw
this wonderful prodigy was the V. P. F. Juan.”
The Jesuits have an important college for boys in Havana. Annexed to it
is an observatory, said to be the best organized in South America. The
church is handsome, and over the high altar hangs a famous Holy Family
by Ribera. In connection with this college, there is also a museum and
library, especially rich in drawings and prints, illustrating Cuban
life and scenery, from the Sixteenth Century down to our own times.
The Tacon opera-house, which can accommodate 5,000 persons, is, in its
way, a very fine theatre, built in the Italian fashion, with tiers of
boxes, one above another. They are separated by gilded lattices, so as
to afford every possible means of ventilation. Round each tier of boxes
is a sort of ambulatory or verandah, overlooking the great Square.
The upper gallery is exclusively devoted to the coloured people, who,
on a Sunday, fill it to suffocation. They are considered the most
critical part of the audience, and their appreciation or disapproval
is generally well founded and liberally demonstrated. The first two
rows of boxes belong to the aristocracy and wealthy merchants, and
the display of jewelry on a gala night used to be quite amazing. The
lower part of the house is divided into a pit and orchestra-stalls.
When crowded the Tacon presents a really fine appearance. The stage
is, I should say, as large as that at Covent Garden and the operas are
perfectly mounted and staged.
According to the best authorities, Diego Velasquez, the Conqueror of
Cuba, founded the famous city of San Christobal de la Habana in 1508,
and being immensely impressed by the width and depth of the harbour,
and its generally favourable position for trade purposes, he called
it _la Have del Nuevo Mondo_, the key to the New World. So far
he was right, and until quite recently Havana stood forth among the
richest cities in Southern America. The early history of Cuba, like
that of all the West Indian Islands, consists of a series of attacks by
Spanish, English, French and Dutch buccaneers and privateers. In 1528,
these adventurers burnt the new city to the ground, but, Phœnix-like,
it soon rose above its ashes, and was eventually protected by a
chain of fortifications of sufficient importance to resist a siege
by the Dutch in 1628. From 1762 until February, 1763, the English,
under Sir George Pickock, held the place. It was finally restored to
the Spaniards; and the evacuation, on July 10th of the same year,
was celebrated with great rejoicing; Britain being, at that date,
distinctly unpopular in Cuba. In 1768, France having ceded Louisiana to
Spain, Don Antonio Alloa sailed for New Orleans, to take possession in
the name of Their Catholic Majesties. He was so ill received as to be
obliged to return forthwith to Havana, where Marshal O’Reilly, an Irish
exile, organized an expedition to Louisiana, and seized the capital,
which was not held for very long. In 1802, Havana was partly burnt to
the ground and some ten thousand persons were left homeless. Under the
Governorship of the celebrated Tacon, Havana soon resumed its foremost
position, and was almost entirely rebuilt in stone and masonry,
whereas, hitherto, most of the houses had been of wood thatched with
straw. If you ask, “Who built that fine edifice?” the answer is
invariably “Tacon.” “Yon theatre?” “Tacon.” It is literally a case of
“_Tacon qui, Tacon su e Tacon giù._” He is the benevolent Figaro
of the place. The wonders which he performed in a short time prove
clearly that when the island is energetically governed, it flourishes
marvellously.
ST. MICHAEL’S CHURCH, CHARLESTON
WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS
Cities, like men, and because they are the work of men, have each,
necessarily, marked features of individuality, and these will be found
to illustrate in some degree, the characteristics of the people by
whom they have been founded, and by whom they are maintained. All
of our American cities may thus be distinguished, each having its
local atmosphere and aspect. Charleston is confessedly one of the
favourite cities of the South, if not of the Union, and is commended
to our regards by a thousand special considerations. She has been
distinguished by her early and active share in our Revolution--in
the formation of the Confederacy and the Constitution--in the noble
contributions of intellect and valour which she has made to the common
capital of the country--in her generous sacrifices at all times in the
common cause--by the refinements of her society--by the polish of her
people--the general propriety of her tastes--her lofty morals and warm
hospitality.