transition in European affairs, under the direct patronage of the most
eminent among the British nobility, and subsequently taken under the
immediate protection of the Crown, the colony of South Carolina--of
which Charleston was at that period the very soul--was always a much
favoured province of the mother country. The richness and value
of her products furnished substantial reasons why she should be a
favourite. Her merchants were mostly British; her native sons of family
were sent to Britain for education; and the affinities between the
parent state and the colony were thus rendered doubly tenacious, making
the struggle of the Revolution a much severer one in this than in any
other colony of the whole continent.
[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL’S CHURCH, CHARLESTON]
The Palmetto City is happily placed within two spacious rivers, the
Cooper and Ashley--the Etiwan and Keawah of the Red Men. These unite
to form the harbour, which is ample and attractive to the eye, in
high degree, forming a beautiful _ensemble_, not less sweet than
spacious. As you enter from the sea, between the Islands of Sullivan
and Morris, the city opens before you in the foreground, five miles
distant--rising, like another Venice from the ocean. It is built, like
Venice, upon flats and shoals of sand and mud. So low is the land, that
the illusion that it is built directly in the sea, continues till you
approach quite near it. This illusion is productive of a picturesque
effect, but not sufficient to compensate you for the relief which would
be yielded by an elevated background, or by lofty eminences of land
on either side. As you advance, the bay expands, wide and majestic,
forming a harbourage to which there can be no objection, were it not
for the embarrassments of the bar at the entrance, which forbids the
admission of ships of very heavy draught of water. In front of you,
commanding the channel is Fort Sumter, a formidable pile of fortress,
with double tier of heavy cannon rising upon a mole at the head of a
sand-bar. In passing Sullivan’s Island the eye readily distinguishes
the famous fortress which bears the name of Moultrie, distinguished
in American history as the scene of one of the first and best fought
battles of the Revolution, when a few hundred native riflemen, who
had never fired a cannon before, beat off and nearly destroyed a
formidable British fleet, making such slaughter among them as, in
proportion to the numbers engaged, was not even reached by that of
Trafalgar and the Nile. On the right you see Haddrill’s--Mount Pleasant
village--which also constituted one of the fortresses of ’76. On the
left are the shores of James and Morris Islands, the latter bearing the
lighthouse of the port; the former the site of old Fort Johnson, which
was wrested from the British, prior to the battle of Fort Moultrie
by the enterprise of a small body of citizen soldiery. Here at the
very portals of the city, you encounter Castle Pinckney, covering an
ancient mud reef; and here we propose to give you a bird’s eye view of
the city itself--the Palmetto City. You see the _tout ensemble_
at a glance, and perceive its two most prominent characteristics--the
verandahs, balconies, piazzas, with the ample gardens and their
foliage, which isolate every dwelling-house, and form a substitute for
public squares, in which Charleston is lamentably deficient. But for
the largeness of the several lots and the taste of the people for shade
trees, the deficiency would be fatal at once to the health and beauty
of the place.
On the south-east corner of Broad and Meeting Street is an antique of
the old Colonial period, the sight of which always rouses the pride
of the Palmetto citizen. This is St. Michael’s Church (Episcopalian),
a fine old fabric, and one of the best specimens of the British
architectural talent of its day, at least as this was exhibited in its
American production.
This fine church was first opened for worship in 1761. Its tower
is supposed to be one of the noblest ornaments of the city. The
proportions are good; the effect is graceful and imposing. The extreme
elevation is 168 feet; no great elevation, perhaps, except in a city
so little above the sea as Charleston. It is here even now overtopped
by others. But it is not a mere spire. It is a series of ornamented
chambers, gradually rising from each other; and involves dimensions of
greater bulk and weight than any other of the city towers, St. Philip’s
alone excepted. The church of St. Michael’s seems to be deficient in
relation with the tower, and the effect is not good. It is too squat
for the steeple. The extreme length of the body of the church is 130
feet, its width 60. As a whole the structure is in good taste, simple
and proper; while this steeple, from its proportions, and an air of
grace and lightness, which lessens greatly your idea of its bulk and
weight, is in the highest degree pleasing and impressive.
This tower constituted, until a comparatively recent period, the great
landmark of the city from the sea. It was the chief, or only beacon in
the period of the Revolution, and was painted black when the assailing
British fleet was anticipated, in order to prevent their use of it
as a guide to the harbour. But this was a mistake. Black against a
light-blue sky was a more certain landmark than white. It has a very
musical chime of eight bells, none sweeter in the country. In the humid
climate of Charleston the bells acquire a rare sweetness of tone, and
those of St. Michael’s are especially musical. Of these bells there is
a curious history. They were taken down and sent, as a portion of the
_spolia opima_ of the captured city, to London for sale. They were
bought by London merchants, and restored by them to the church, whether
as a gift or by purchase we are not able to say.[9]
During the Civil War the bells of St. Michael’s were sent to Columbia
to be cast into cannon, but General Beauregard pronounced them unfit
for the purpose and had them preserved in the capital with other relics
of value.
THE CARLYLE HOUSE, ALEXANDRIA
In the quiet little town of Alexandria, whose large and grass-grown
cobble-stones are rarely disturbed by vehicles or pedestrians, there
are many old houses of distinguished, if somewhat decayed, appearance.
They date from the period when the town, known as Belle Haven, had
every prospect of becoming an important centre of trade and society. It
was a mart for the famous “Oronoko tobacco” and a warehouse for this
commodity established about 1720 brought prosperity to the settlement
on the Potomac, whose name was soon changed to honour James Alexander,
the Earl of Stirling. Many ships docked in the harbour to land
merchandise, soldiers, sailors, officers and distinguished foreigners
on diplomatic missions; and from the _Royal George_, the northern
mail coach left every day connecting Alexandria with the world. In this
period of prosperity, many handsome houses were built and furnished
with every comfort and luxury known to this country.
Among the typical examples of domestic architecture of Colonial days is
one that amply repays a visit,--not merely on account of its historical
associations, but because it is one of the best specimens of Eighteenth
Century architecture existing in this country.
[Illustration: THE CARLYSLE HOUSE, ALEXANDRIA, VA.]
Completely hidden by a modern hotel of unprepossessing appearance, few
tourists who pause on their way from Washington to _Mount Vernon_ to
see the town that Washington visited so frequently, are aware of its
existence.
Passing through the hotel into the back court, the visitor is suddenly
confronted by this noble old house, now deserted and forlorn, with
no hints of its days of gaiety and splendour. The house is extremely
large and of fine proportions, and when surrounded by its trees
and gardens must have presented an appearance of great dignity
and charm. Architects, however, delight even more in the interior
decorations,--the beautifully carved chimney-pieces, doors and other
woodwork and the fine stairway. When this house was built by Major John
Carlyle in 1752, it was considered one of the three handsomest homes
in the vicinity, the others being _Mount Vernon_, the home of the
Washingtons, and _Belvoir_, the home of the Fairfaxes.
One curious feature of the Carlyle House is that it is built upon an
old fort, whose massive grass-grown walls are still to be seen, as well
as the subterranean passage that leads from the house through the fort
to the Potomac.
The following description by a nameless writer describes the house as
it was about forty years ago:
“It is built of cut stone, quite large, being about fifty feet square,
the doors and windows ornamented with carved caps. A massive porch is
built on the west front and the east is occupied by a long verandah. A
wide hall runs entirely through the house, in each story, and opening
into them are spacious rooms. These, as well as the hall on the first
story, are wainscoted to the ceiling and ornamented with carved wood,
after the style of the period in which the house was built.
“Formerly, fine grounds surrounded the house; on the east side a garden
extended to the river, which, at that time, was about three hundred
yards distant. This inlet has long been filled in, and its site is now
occupied by streets and buildings. A broad walk, bordered on either
side with trees and shrubs extended from the house to the river. Being
considerably above the grade of the surrounding streets, the garden
was entirely cut away except a small portion near the house, which was
walled in. The garden on the west front extended from the mansion to
the street and fronted directly on the public square, which at that
time was occupied by the town jail and pillory. In the garden were a
number of tall Lombardy poplars, and at each corner a lodge was built,
which was used as servants’ quarters. These have all been removed and
their site is occupied by a large building. This prevents a front view
of the mansion, except from the interior point of the hotel.”
Another excellent description by Alexander Cameron, in the _New
England Magazine_ for 1902, reads as follows:
“The most imposing residence the town possessed was, of course, the one
John S. Carlyle had erected in 1752, constructed of Portland stone,
shipped from the Isle of Wight in exchange for the famous Oronoko
tobacco. The house was well situated,--in the rear the lawn sloped
down to the Potomac and on the portico one could sit and watch the
vessels from over the seas glide into the haven that ever appeared
most beautiful, and in front like watchful sentinels, a double row of
Lombardy poplars kept guard over the stately home, where hospitality
was offered with a lavish hand and where good cheer and kindliness were
ever to be found. The woodwork of the interior of the house is regarded
as the best specimen of Colonial style; the windows, doorways, mantels,
the primitive cupboards, the heavy carved frieze, even the chairboard
are all in exquisite taste. Here in the great drawing-room of gold and
white, Washington was often to be seen, taking part in the minuet and
one could catch a glimpse of the dainty room in blue and white across
the hall. But there was another side to all this brightness and gaiety,
as the dungeons of the house could testify, where in times of attack
by the Indians, the household sought protection, or by means of the
subterranean passage, as at _Mount Vernon_, an escape was offered
by way of the Potomac and the happy youths in powdered wigs, beruffled
shirts, knee breeches, and silk hose, who could step with so light a
heart in the dance, could also draw their swords and fight for the
protection of their homes and for the honour of their King.”
The French and Indians were a menace to the prosperity of Alexandria;
those living without the town found it difficult to bring their produce
to market without fearing an attack; therefore in 1754 Washington, then
but twenty-two, led a small company of Alexandria soldiers against the
enemy. This was unsuccessful and Washington was compelled to surrender.
In the following year, England took extreme measures.
It was the period when England and France were contending for power on
this continent. France, with her allies, the Indians, held the Lakes
and many strong forts in the interior, while England held the Atlantic
seaboard peopled by loyal colonists. The English ministry having
decided to attack the French on the Lakes and in Ohio, despatched
General Braddock to Virginia in 1755, with instructions to proceed to
Fort Duquesne, the site of the present city of Pittsburg.
On his arrival in Alexandria, General Braddock became the guest of
Major Carlyle, while doubtless the soldiers were put up at the _Royal
George_.
We can imagine that the entertainment offered to the gallant, gay
and eccentric General by a wealthy colonist did not shame the famed
Virginia hospitality; and that when the Governors of New York,
Massachusetts, Maryland, Virginia, Pennsylvania and North Carolina
arrived, there were dances, dinners, cards, toasts and wines, and
scenes of gaiety, as well as the discussion of vital questions. A
Conference of six Governors and noted army officers was not an everyday
occurrence, and the old house held a very brilliant gathering.
The Conference ended and the plan of action determined upon, Braddock
and his little company of red-coated soldiers, set out from Alexandria.
They took the road across the mountains, still a wilderness, although
the Indian no longer lurks behind the trees and rocks. Here the
traveller is shown various paths called “Braddock’s Road,” and springs
and stones called “Braddock’s Well” and “Braddock’s Stone,” all of
which are associated, or supposed to be associated, with the memorable
“Braddock’s Defeat.”
Braddock’s story is very well told by John Esten Cooke, who writes:
“He went from Williamsburg to Alexandria to consult with the governors
of the more prominent colonies; and one morning there appeared at his
headquarters a young gentleman of some reputation as a soldier--Colonel
George Washington of _Mount Vernon_. As Washington had already
smelled gunpowder and knew the wilderness, Braddock gave him a
position on his staff, and informally consulted with him, but
exhibited ill-conditioned disdain when the young ‘buckskin’ hinted
that ‘regulars’ would not accomplish much in the woods when matched
against Indians firing from behind the trees. The idea that _British
regular troops_ would not sweep such hornets from their path,
struck Braddock evidently in the light of an exquisite absurdity; and,
paying no attention to Washington’s warnings, he hurried forward his
preparations, set out for the frontier, passing through Frederick City,
Maryland, and Winchester, Virginia, and entered Fort Cumberland, where
his troops were to rendezvous amid a thundering salute of thirteen
cannon, the drums beating the ‘Grenadier’s March’ as he flashed by in
his chariot, his staff galloping beside it. So went upon his way the
brave and unlucky Englishman who was not destined to return....
“The tragic sequel of the drama we need not describe. Braddock had
acted like the brave man he was in the battle and defeat that ensued,
and, seeing all things crumbling around him, seemed anxious to die.
He rode into the hottest of the fire, a conspicuous figure in his
splendid uniform--shouting orders, storming at the troops, waving his
sword--exposing himself recklessly in every part of the field. Five
horses had been killed under him. As one fell, he seized and mounted
a fresh one. At last his fate came. A bullet traversed his right arm
and buried itself in his lungs. He fell--was caught by Captain Stewart
of the Virginia light-horse, and there was scarcely time to hurry him
off the fateful field, when the English troops broke on all sides and
retreated in wild disorder, pursued by the French and Indians.
“The shattered army were now in full flight across the Monongahela;
and then they hastened back through the wilderness, scarcely pausing
before they reached Fort Cumberland. Tradition relates that Braddock
was so painfully wounded that he could not be carried off even in a
spring vehicle, and was swung at full length in a large silken sash
which he had worn, the extremities of which were affixed to two horses
moving abreast. This sash is said to be still in existence. He could
be carried no further than the Great Meadows, where he died on the
night of July 13th, Washington reading the funeral service over his
body, which was there interred. Savages lurked around--all was done in
silence. Not even a volley was fired in honour of the brave soldier who
had come to this wilderness to find a grave.”
The report to the home government gave the Colonial soldiers their
due. It read: “The Virginia officers and troops behaved like men and
died like soldiers.” Washington was the only officer who survived. He
wrote: “I had four bullets through my coat, and two horses shot under
me, yet escaped unhurt although death was levelling my companions on
every side of me.”
On his return, Washington entered into all the gaieties of Alexandria,
balls and dances at the Carlyle House, balls and dances at the _Royal
George_, and balls and dances at the tavern called Gadsby’s. He
notes in his Diary of 1760 the description of a ball in Alexandria,
ending: “We lodged at Col. Carlyle’s.”
During the Civil War, this old house was used as headquarters for the
medical directors of the hospitals in the vicinity.
INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA
D. W. BELISLE
This venerable edifice, which excites so much patriotic veneration
from the American people and is regarded with profound esteem abroad,
was known until the year 1776 as the State House. From that memorable
period--when the representatives of the nation resolved to be free--the
room on the east side of the main entrance has been designated by the
appellation of Independence Hall. For wise and patriotic reasons it has
never been altered. By that designation it will remain hallowed to all
time. So long as a single genuine spark of freedom remains in the human
heart, so long will Independence Hall be regarded as the birthplace
of liberty--the immortal spot where the manacles of oppression were
sundered and despotism received its most formidable rebuke. The State
House, originally constructed for the purpose of accommodating legal
business, the dispensation of Colonial statutes for Pennsylvania, and
the transaction of various other matters, was commenced in the year
1729 and completed in 1734. Its dimensions and architectural plan--the
design being furnished by an amateur architect, named John Kearsley,
Sr.,--were regarded by many as too large and expensive; and the
erection of the building was, therefore, quite strenuously opposed.
Had the men who first conceived the noble enterprise of building
it foreseen the exalted character which their contemplated edifice
would assume in future, there would not probably have been a single
dissenting voice in the liberal plan projected by its founders. It is
a singular historical fact, that most of those who opposed the plan of
the edifice in the commencement and who were still living at the time,
were opposed to the adoption of the “Declaration of Independence,”
which occurred within its very walls about a quarter of a century
afterwards. According to bills and papers kept by Andrew Hamilton, one
of the three Commissioners who had the superintendence of the financial
matters connected with its construction, it appears that the edifice
cost originally $16,250. The two wings which now form important addenda
to the building, however, were not erected until the years 1739–40, and
increased the total amount to $28,000--but their cost cannot be counted
in the original bill.
[Illustration: INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA, PA.]
Watson in his _Annals_ says: “Edmund Woolley did the carpenter work,
John Harrison the joiner work, Thomas Boude was the brick mason,
William Holland did the marble work, Thomas Kerr, plaster, Benjamin
Fairman and James Stoopes made the bricks; the lime was from the
kilns of the Tysons. [These kilns were situated in Manship Township,
Montgomery County, about one mile west from Willow Grove and fifteen
miles from the Hall of Independence.] The glass and lead cost £170
and the glazing in leaden frames was done by Thomas Godfrey, the
celebrated. I may here usefully add, for the sake of comparison, the
costs of sundry items, to wit: carpenter’s work at 4_s._ per day;
boy’s, 1_s._; master carpenter, E. Woolley, 4_s._ 6_d._; brick-laying
by Thomas Boude, John Palmer and Thomas Redman, at 10_s._ 6_d._ per M.;
stone work in the foundation at 4_s._ per perch; digging ground and
carting away, 9_d._ per yard; bricks, 31_s._ 8_d._ per M.; lime per 100
bushels, £4; boards, 20_s._ per M.; lath-wood, 18_s._ per cord; laths,
3_s._ per C.; shingles, 20_s._ per M.; scantling, 1½_d._ per foot;
stone, 3_s._ per perch, and 5_s._ 5_d._ per load. Labourers receive
2_s._ 6_d._ per day; 2,100 loads of earth are hauled away at 9_d._ per
load.” These items are only given as specimens of curiosity, and will
serve to amuse, if not to instruct.
The woodwork of the steeple by which the building was first surmounted,
on examination in 1774, was found to be so much decayed, that it was
decided to remove it, and it was accordingly taken down, leaving only
a small belfry to cover the bell for the use of the town-clock,--which
had but one dial face, at the west end of the building. In that
condition it remained until 1829, when the steeple which now crowns
the building, was erected on the plan of the original one. Some years
ago the interior woodwork to the room in which the “Declaration of
Independence” was signed was removed for the purpose of modernizing
the plans, but public sentiment soon demanded its restoration, and it
now presents the same appearance it did on that memorable occasion. In
1854, the City Councils of Philadelphia very patriotically resolved
to place in this sacred room--where they properly belong--all the
relics associated with the brilliant history of the Hall and the times
contemporaneous with the American Revolution, which they could obtain.
With commendable zeal and enterprise they have obtained and arranged
in their appropriate places portraits of nearly all the distinguished
“Signers of the Declaration of Independence,” as well as many other
valuable relics, all of which are sacred mementoes uniting the present
and the past with ligaments of inseverable affection.
“When the regular sessions of the Assembly were held in the State
House,” says Watson, “the Senate occupied upstairs and the Lower House
the same chamber since called Independence Hall. In the former, Anthony
Morris is remembered as Speaker, occupying an elevated chair facing
north--himself a man of amiable mien, contemplative aspect, dressed
in a suit of drab cloth, flaxen hair slightly powdered, and his eyes
fronted with spectacles. The Representative Chamber had George Latimer
for Speaker, seated with his face to the west,--a well-formed manly
person, his fair large front and eyes sublime declared absolute rule.”
For many years previous to 1855, the upper apartment of Independence
Hall was divided into rooms which were occupied by the Supreme Courts
of the United States, and was rented for offices of various kinds.