period of the Revolution, to which the “State House” was appropriated
in the Colonial days of Pennsylvania, it was on several occasions used
as a hall for banqueting. In the long gallery, upstairs, the feasting
tables were spread, around which hilarity and mirthfulness prevailed,
while the tables themselves were loaded with every desirable luxury
which the appetite or inclination might fancy or desire. Soon after
the edifice was completed, in 1736, William Allen, Esq., then Mayor
of Philadelphia, made a feast at his own expense. This entertainment,
which was of a sumptuous and costly character, was spread in the “State
House,” and the Mayor extended his invitations to all distinguished
strangers in the city. The number of invited guests exceeded any at
the feasts given in the city on previous occasions, while those who
partook of his hospitality expressed their unanimous consent that,
“for excellency of fare, it was a most elegant entertainment.” On the
arrival of their new Colonial Governor, Denny, in 1756, while the
Assembly was in session, that body gave him a reception dinner, and
this feast was likewise spread at the “State House,” at which the
“civil and military officers and clergy of the city” were present.
This entertainment occurred in August, and was an important event
during that session of the Assembly. It had a tendency to harmonize
various antagonistical personal feelings, which were looked upon
as boding no peculiar good to the new administration. Again, when
Lord Loudon, commander-in-chief of the King’s forces in the several
colonies, visited the city in the year 1757, the corporation received
him at the “State House” by a great banquet. General Forbes, who was
then commander at Philadelphia and of the southern settlements, was
also present on that occasion. Various guests were invited, among
whom were officers of rank, gentlemen strangers, clergy and private
citizens, who partook of those municipal hospitalities. It was
remarked by some uninvited guests at the time, that the expenditure
for this entertainment was greater than had ever before been made by
the authorities for public receptions, which indicated a very early
hospitality to such feasts--especially when given at the expense of the
public treasury. When in 1774, the first Congress met in Philadelphia,
a sumptuous collation was prepared by the gentlemen of the city,
for the entertainment of its representatives, the “State House” was
selected as the building in which the festive ceremonies should be
performed. The members and invited guests congregated first at the
City Tavern,[10] and thence marched in an imposing procession to the
“State House,” in the dining-hall of which the repast was spread.
About five hundred persons partook of the dinner, and when the toasts
were given they were rendered patriotic by the “firing of cannon and
martial music.” These festive occasions exerted salutary influence upon
public sentiment, and had a tendency to develop, in no small degree,
political feelings which actuated the people. No doubt the principles
promulgated and advocated around the brimful goblet and board, were
regarded in a patriotic or disloyal sense, according to the dominant
characteristics of leading men, with their adherence to Parliamentary
laws, or Republican sympathy.
Notwithstanding the fact that Independence Hall is regarded as a most
sacred shrine of Liberty, in days of yore it was used for various
purposes--some of which illy comported with the true character of the
building. Mr. Watson says: “For many years the public papers of the
Colony, and afterwards of the City and State, were kept in the east
and west wings of the State House, without any fire-proof security
as they now possess. From their manifest insecurity, it was deemed,
about the year 1809, to pull down those former two-story brick wings
and to supply their places by those which are now there. In former
times such important papers as rest with the Prothonotaries were
kept in their offices at their family residences.” When workmen
were superintending the removal of the former wings of the “State
House,” Mr. Grove, who was the master mason, made several interesting
discoveries of relics. These were mostly found under the foundations
of the walls, as the workmen excavated the ground considerably deeper
for the present cellars. At the depth of some five feet, and close to
the western wall, was dug up a keg of Indian flints. Nothing appears
upon record to give the faintest idea as to who performed the deed,
or for what purpose they were buried there. The impression of the keg
was distinct, but the wood had decayed and become assimilated with the
loamy soil. At about the same depth, and in close proximity to it,
were uncovered the complete equipments of a sergeant, consisting of a
musket, cartouche-box, sword, buckles, etc. “The wood being decayed
left the impression of what they had been.” These discoveries excited
considerable curiosity, and attracted a large multitude of people to
see and examine them. But a greater and more general excitement was
created, a day or two subsequently, at the announcement that a lot of
bomb-shells, filled with powder, had been exhumed by the diggers. This
circumstance led to various conjectures, relative to the object for
which they had been buried beneath the building, but a satisfactory
solution of the mystery has not, as yet, been given. Some entertained
the belief that it was intended for another Guy Fawkes plot, to destroy
the edifice on a particular occasion. Most probably, however, they
had been placed there for safe keeping, or to prevent their falling
into unfriendly hands. Subsequently, when the present foundation was
built two of these bombs were walled in with the stones and now form a
portion of the stonework.
We have remarked that Independence Hall was used for various purposes.
In the year 1802, the Legislature of Pennsylvania granted to Charles
Wilson Peale the use of the upper rooms in which the public banquets
were formerly given for the exhibition of curiosities which he
had collected and arranged under the title of the _Philadelphia
Museum_.
As a place of literary entertainment, Independence Hall assumes a
conspicuous reputation. In 1771, the Rev. Jacob Duché, assistant
minister of Christ Church and St. Peter’s, Philadelphia, wrote as
follows:--“The ‘State House,’ as it is called, is a large plain
building, two stories high. The lower story is divided into two large
rooms, in one of which the Provincial Assembly meet and in the other
the Supreme Court of Judicature is held. The upper story consists of a
long gallery, which is generally used for public entertainments, and
two rooms adjoining it, one of which is appropriated for the Governor
and his Council; the other, I believe, is yet unoccupied. In one of
the wings, which join the main building by means of a brick arcade, is
deposited a valuable collection of books, belonging to a number of the
citizens, who are incorporated by the name of ‘_The Library Company of
Philadelphia_.’ You would be astonished, my Lord, at the general taste
for books which prevails among all orders and ranks of people in this
city. The librarian assured me that, for one person of distinction and
fortune, there were twenty tradesmen that frequented this library.” The
Library Company of Philadelphia, to which the above reverend writer
so sneeringly alludes (and who, during the Revolutionary struggle for
Independence, turned Tory to the cause of Freedom), was first started
by Benjamin Franklin in 1731, and was called “_The City Library_,” in
consequence of a union which was made on the first of July of that
year, of several libraries. In October, 1732, their first importation
of books from England arrived, amounting in cost to £45 15_s._,
sterling. The Library was located in Pewter-platter Alley, but in 1740
it was transferred to the State House. Thence in 1773 it was placed
in the Carpenters’ Hall, where it remained until the year 1790. It
received its incorporation in 1742, under the title of the “Library
Company of Philadelphia.” In 1792, this Company, the Loganian and the
Union, were merged into one,--making a _tria juncta in una_.
During the progress of the struggle for Freedom, the State House was
signalized for many scenes which transpired within it, and was, at
one time, used as a hospital for wounded soldiers. A “lobby” extended
the whole length of the building, then eastward from the head of the
stairs, and in this “lobby” the American officers who were captured at
the Battle of Germantown were retained as prisoners. It was used as a
hospital after the Battle of the Brandywine, where many a noble patriot
breathed his last. Such were some of the sad purposes for which this
sacred structure has been used. This building is also rendered immortal
from the fact that here Washington “bade farewell to public life, and
delivered that memorable address which will ever be cherished as a
sacred legacy by his grateful countrymen.” In 1824, Lafayette received
his friends in Independence Hall. It has been subsequently used as the
audience-chamber of several distinguished visitors, and a reception
room for the Presidents of the United States. The body of the venerable
John Adams here lay in state on its way to his final resting-place.
After the completion of the State House in 1734, measures were set
on foot to secure means and funds sufficient to place in the dome a
bell appropriate for the building. As they had already supplied a
great public necessity by placing a clock in the west end--not in the
_steeple_, as _Harper’s Magazine_ represents it--many influential
citizens opposed the measure, on the ground of extravagance, arguing
that the “great cost of the State House had imposed a heavy tax upon
the citizens, and further expenditure was useless.” The better judgment
of the people, however, after several years prevailed, and it was
decided to have a bell. But another great and discouraging difficulty
met the speedy accomplishment of their purposes. There had been but
little moulding and casting effected in the Colonies, in consequence of
the home government monopolizing almost exclusively every department of
manufacturing, thereby subjecting their subjects in the New World to
depend upon the mills, looms and furnaces of England for a supply of
such articles as Parliament might _think proper_ for them to have. It
became necessary, therefore, to submit to the inconvenience, trouble
and delay, of sending to London for a bell. This was done. The size,
peculiar shape, weight,[11] motto and thickness, were accurately
mentioned, as directions for casting it, and the order was sent in the
latter part of the year 1750. About a year would elapse before they
could reasonably expect the bell to reach this country. It came at last
in 1752, and before it was landed from the ship, hundreds of citizens
repaired to the vessel to examine it and congratulate the city on its
safe arrival.
The tone was clear, distinct and forcible, well calculated to inspire
feelings of pride in those enterprising citizens, who had been chiefly
instrumental in procuring it. But their high anticipations were doomed
to meet a sad disappointment. A day or two after its arrival, while
removing it from the vessel to the place for which it was intended, it
met with an accident by which its tones were rendered discordant, the
beauty of its appearance mutilated and its uses almost destroyed. In
fact, the bell had to be recast, and it was decided that an experiment
should be made in the city.
Accordingly the task was assigned to Messrs. Pass & Stow, who were
to perform the operation under the superintendence of Isaac Norris,
Esq., Speaker of the Colonial Assembly. To that gentleman is ascribed
the honour of having originally suggested the motto “Proclaim Liberty
throughout the land and to all the inhabitants thereof,” which the bell
contains, and which proved so prophetic of its future use. In regard
to the new bell cast by Messrs. Pass & Stow, Mr. Norris remarked that
“they have made a good bell, which pleases me much that we should
_first_ venture upon and succeed in the greatest bell, for aught
I know, in English America--surpassing, too, the imported one, which
was too high and brittle.” No doubt such were the facts, especially
in reference to the last part of Mr. Norris’s remarks, and in that
respect, also, the bell was significantly emblematical. Efforts were
made to restore the bell to its original sound by boring holes into it,
but the attempt proved unavailing.
Such is the brief history of the origin of the “Old State House
Bell”; and it is to be regretted that no more definite reminiscences
connected with it have been preserved. During the struggle for that
Independence and Freedom which was proclaimed by this bell, while the
British threatened to take and occupy Philadelphia, this bell, together
with that belonging to Christ Church, was taken down, and conveyed to
the river, near Trenton, where they were buried in the water in order
to prevent them from falling into the hands of their enemies. In
this condition they remained from 1777 to the close of the American
Revolution, when they were brought back to the city and placed in their
former situations.
THE CASTLE OF CHAPULTEPEC
THOMAS UNETT BROCKLEHURST
A clear, unclouded atmosphere at an elevation of 8,000 feet above the
level of the sea in the tropics puts everything _couleur de rose_.
There is no heat, no cold; the average temperature is about 60°, and
the atmosphere is so clear that when you see the mountains at the ends
of the streets they appear close at hand, instead of being from twenty
to forty miles distant.
All the houses in the city have a gay appearance; such as are not white
or light yellow or green are tinted with various shades of red, and
many of the churches may be pronounced pink; three or four hundred
yards of a street in pink has a pretty effect, especially if continued
in pale green; a house in grey stone adjoining another faced with blue
encaustic tiles is, to say the least, pleasing to the eye of any one
who for months past has only gazed upon dwellings of dull red brick. As
you get into the outskirts of the city, the houses are meaner, but many
of them are festooned with flowers and wreaths, so the appearance of
beauty is maintained, even if on close inspection it is found delusive.
One of the three principal rides out of the city is the Paséo de la
Reforma, three miles in length, leading to the Castle of Chapultepec;
here the gay world disports itself from seven to nine in the morning
on horseback, and from six to seven in the evening in carriages; but it
is deserted during Lent for the Paséo de la Viga, where three or four
military bands discourse excellent music.
The principal ride is to the Castle of Chapultepec, and as it is the
first ride every visitor is sure to take, he will be interested to
learn that the building on the summit of the porphyry rock, visible
from all parts of the valley, stands on the site of the Palace of
Montezuma;[12] it is known as the Hill of the Grasshopper in old Aztec
charts, and is always drawn on their hieroglyphics as a mound, with a
grasshopper as large as the mound itself on the top of it.
Nothing remains of the grandeur which marked the place in Montezuma’s
time except the avenues of enormous Cyprus trees (_Cupressus distica_)
beneath whose shades were the gardens where he loved to wander, even
after his beloved capital had fallen into the rude hands of the
invading Spaniards.
I measured the girth of several of these trees, and found three or four
of the largest to vary from thirty-five to forty feet above the ground.
Their height was proportionately grand, 100 to 120 feet and the trees
are well shaped. Long festoons of a greyish Spanish moss hang from
their branches; this moss is supposed to add to the beauty of the
groves, but it gives me an idea of decay.
[Illustration: CASTLE OF CHAPULTEPEC, MEXICO]
In Prescott’s fourth book there is a graphic account of Montezuma’s
town and country palaces of barbaric splendour; his armouries, his
granaries, his strange collection of human monsters and dwarfs,
his menageries and the aviary, which alone required three hundred
attendants; the royal household is described, and in proof of the
luxury of the royal table, it is mentioned that there were runners
stationed every twenty miles the whole distance from Vera Cruz to
Mexico, that the red mullets might be placed fresh and sweet upon his
table; it is said that the runners brought up these delicacies from
the coast in quicker time than the present railway can accomplish. No
one can doubt the truth of the description of his magnificence who has
beheld the trees that are still standing along the avenues of what was
once his royal garden. From the terrace in front of his palace, he saw
the snow-capped mountains Popocatepetl and Ixtaccihuatl and the City of
Mexico, entirely surrounded by the waters of Lake Texcoco, glittering
at his feet; the Pinion de los Baños, Pinion del Marques, Santa
Catharina and San Nicholas, all small craters or volcanic cones; and to
the right the hill called Estrella, on which the sacred fire was always
burning, until the 26th of December, every fifty-second year.
At these intervals, the fire of every temple and house was
extinguished, and the people abandoning themselves to despair, tore
their garments and destroyed their furniture, as their priests taught
them it was probable that the world would be destroyed. The ceremony
was terrible; a noble victim was sacrificed, and it was not till after
midnight, when the constellation Pleiades had passed the zenith, that
the priests announced that the world was again saved. The sacred fire
kindled by the friction of sticks placed in the wounded breast of the
victim was conveyed to the altar, when the blaze of the funeral pyre
announced the glad tidings of joy to the countless multitudes looking
on from every part of the valley; these thereupon gave themselves up to
transports of delight, and kept the Carnival or national jubilee, which
lasted twelve or thirteen days. New fire was then carried by fleet
runners from the altar of Estrella to every part of the kingdom.
There is an idea of stability in the Scriptural phrase “everlasting
hills.” The “everlasting hills” are before me; the aspect of the
valley has been changed. Lake Texcoco has been withdrawn a mile or two
from the city; the domes and spires of the city are different from
the Teocalli and Palace of Montezuma; and the Palace of Chapultepec,
in front of which I am standing, has been rebuilt several times by
Spanish Viceroys. The present building was erected so lately as 1785;
it is a kind of gilt pagoda on a castellated battlement, and the rooms
were decorated by Maximilian, its last occupant, with coarse Pompeiian
arabesques. These are changes, but Popocatepetl and Ixtaccihuatl rear
their snow-capped heads as they did before man counted time.
At the back of the Castle, looking over the large cypress-trees on
the pleasaunce below, is seen the high ground on which the Battle of
Molino del Rey (the King’s mill) was fought in August, 1847, between
the American army under General Scott and the Mexican army under
General Santa Anna. The large flour mill and other buildings bear marks
of shot and shell, and the centre of the battlefield is indicated by a
square marble pedestal, on which are inscribed the names of the Mexican
officers who fell on the field.
This was the last battle of the war which arose out of the secession of
the territory of Texas from Mexico in order to become one of the North
American States. General Scott being victorious over the Mexicans,
the treaty of peace--known as the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo--was
ratified in the early part of 1848, by which the Americans obtained
the territories of Texas, New Mexico, and upper California. Arizona
was subsequently bought from Santa Anna by the Treaty of Messilla for
$10,000,000.
PARLIAMENT BUILDINGS, OTTAWA
LADY HARDY
The approach to this city, the capital of the Dominion of Canada, is
by no means imposing; the face of the river is covered and its mouth
filled with sawdust; it is stifled, and has scarcely strength to flow,
it could not burst into a smile, or ripple, under the most tempting of
summer suns. Immense booms of timber which have been floated down from
the “forest primeval” hundreds of miles away, float still on the river
surface till they are hauled up to feed the hungry mills, mechanical
giants, whose rasping jaws work day and night crushing these sturdy
“sons of the forest,” cutting them in slices and casting them forth to
be stacked in huge piles along the river-banks miles before we reach
the town. There is no bustle or confusion on our arrival there. On the
quiet little landing-stage two or three lumbering vehicles are waiting;
we are escorted to one of these by our chivalrous captain, who carries
our hand baggage and superintends the removal of the rest.
[Illustration: PARLIAMENT BUILDING, OTTAWA, CANADA]
Our first day in Ottawa was spent in visiting the Parliament buildings,
which occupy a plateau of about thirty acres on the loftiest point of
the city, and nearly two hundred feet above the Ottawa River; they are
surrounded by beautifully laid out gardens, and seem to be growing out
of a bed of soft greensward of velvet smoothness. They are composed
of cream-coloured Potsdam stone, the ornamental part being of Ohio
and Arupois marble; they are built in the Italian-Gothic style of the
Thirteenth Century, and I am told they are the most beautiful specimens
thereof in all America, perhaps in the world. Their elevated position,
with their long lines of pointed windows, massive buttresses, and
numerous pinnacles and towers, silhouetted against the bright blue sky,
are objects of imposing and majestic beauty for miles around. In the
front centre stands Victoria Tower, one hundred and eighty feet high,
and surmounted by an iron crown. The chief entrance to the building is
through the broad-pointed arches beneath this tower; the royal arms are
above the doorway; in the grand Senate Hall, there is a very beautiful
statue of the Queen and the vice-regal throne is flanked by busts of
the Prince of Wales and the Princess Alexandra.
In the most remote, as well as in the most populous districts, the
features of the royal family are duly represented. The Canadians are
the most loyal of British subjects; they lower their voices with solemn
reverence when they speak of “Her Majesty the Queen,” to whom they
never refer as “the Queen,” pure and simple; they give her a whole
string of titles and adjectives, like the tail of a paper kite, and
set her sailing in the heaven of their imagination, as though she were
beyond the range of humanity altogether.
Much has been said, much has been written on the subject of Canada;
we have learned its geographical position, the length and breadth of
its lakes and rivers, the extent of its vast forest lands, the height
of its mountains, etc., but the figures dazzle the mind, and bring
no realization of the fact. Nothing less than a personal visit will
enable us to comprehend the wonders of this luxuriant land, which is
surrounded and encompassed with its own loveliness. The primeval forest
still holds its own in the vast solitudes, sacred as yet from the
increasing encroachments of man, its immense inland seas and fruitful
rivers winding through scenery the most picturesque, the most sublime;
to say nothing of its vast unexplored lands and mineral resources, and
the wide tracts of rich uncultivated country, watered by springs and
rivulets which have been flowing in their living liquid beauty since
the days of Paradise.
We had heard much of the extremes of temperature, of heat and cold,
especially in Ottawa, and prepared ourselves for broiling; well, it
was warm, the sun blazed, the hot winds blew, and the dust of this
most dusty city whirled and swirled around us, got into our eyes, our
ears, crept insidiously down our throats, and seemed struggling to
turn us inside out; but we clutched our mantles around us, and butted
against the wind, screening ourselves from the sun’s fierce rays as
best we could. It is not often that the sun and wind have such a tussle
together. However, we reached home at last in an uncooked state,
feeling not much warmer than we should do on a summer day at home,
though the temperature is much higher and the hours are marching to the
tune of 90° in the shade.