Queen Square--Incidents in the Burning--The Old Pitcher--"God is
burning up the World, and He won't make another"--Saved from the
flames--Overtaken by Fire three times--The Night of Terror on Queen
Square--Alone amidst Perils--The Lone House on the Square--Three
People under a Table--The sailor--"If I Die to-night sir, hunt them
up"--The escape--The Deserted Streets--An Anomaly--The Marine
Hospital--What a few Buckets of Water Did--The Wiggins Orphan
Asylum--The block in Canterbury street--The _News_ office--Savings
Bank.
Some of the most terrible incidents of the fire took place during the
burning of Queen Square. The flames carrying away Mr. Manson's residence
on the corner of Sydney Street and the square, had entered Mr. A. L.
Palmer's house soon afterwards, and then the whole block was hurried to
destruction. The square was filled with the savings of the people, not
alone of those who lived hard by, but many things were here that had
been carried to the vacant space from a long distance early that day.
There was bedding in abundance, and all round about little heaps of
general household stuff lay guarded by women and boys. This for a time
was the haven of safety, and the broad field looked like a vast
warehouse. Chairs and bedsteads and even stoves and old pipes were piled
in hopeless confusion one upon the other. In the hurry people had taken
that which they had seen first, and the common things of the kitchen
were saved while the rich furniture of the drawing-room was left to
perish. A man congratulated himself upon saving an old tub and a
dipper, while the books in the library lay untouched save by the fire,
and private papers that he could easily have slipped into his pocket,
burned before his eyes. A lady told her husband to be careful and take a
bag which contained the massive silver plate of her family for a
century, and in the moving it was found that he had saved the rag-bag
instead. A man who had been a prosperous merchant lost his all, and the
little savings he had scraped together in a decade of years seemed to
melt before him, but he that night knelt and thanked his God that his
wife and child were by his side. These treasures were near him and all
else might go. He had his strong and willing hands still left, and a
firm spirit, and though for a while he would miss the little comforts he
had been accustomed to, yet would he battle with the world again, and in
the coming years try to win back some of the fruits he had lost. Men in
the excitement knew not what to take first, and pianos were thrown out
of three-story windows, while carpets that had worn worthily and well
till they had become heir-looms in the family, were carefully borne down
stairs on the broad shoulders of stout porters. A thousand human beings
stood in the square watching the flames lashing the buildings before
them. John Boyd, Esq's residence, one of the handsomest buildings in the
city, richly furnished and equipped with costly books, was attacked on
both sides, and soon forced to yield and go down like the less
substantial buildings at its side. The house of G. B. Cushing, Esq., was
of wood, and it was not long before the site on which it stood was
level with the ground. Before the house of Mr. E. L. Jewett, once the
home of the late Dr. Gray, had taken fire, a gentleman tried to save it
by standing on the roof and dashing a pitcher of water on the sparks as
they caught vulnerable spots. For an hour or more he stood there with
his pitcher, when it became evident to him that no effort that he could
make would save the building, and he got down, leaving the pitcher
standing on a ledge of the chimney. The fire shortly afterwards burned
the building, and left the long chimney standing against the sky; and
the next day when the spot was visited, and people walked over the heap
of ashes that had once been a household, all that was saved was the old
pitcher, that still stood on the ledge of the chimney solitary and
alone. It told the story of the desolation more eloquently than tongue
of orator could speak, or pen of a Macaulay could describe. The house of
ex-Mayor Woodward, with its hundreds of curiosities and old relics,
including Major Andre's gun and a score of Continental dollars, caught
in the rear, and lived but a few minutes in the flames. But so it was
all round the square. When Mrs. Stevenson's strong house was going to
pieces, a flock of pigeons hovering near it were drawn in by the heat;
they whirled about for an instant, turned and rushed into the vortex,
and perished in a second. A cat, maddened and wild, cut off from all
escape, dashed along, when the fire pursued her, and she stood still. On
Thursday morning she was still standing in the same place. Her frame
only could be seen, with head up and tail erect; it was a ghastly
sight. It was during the conflagration on the square, that a little
child, five years old, sat by the window of his grandfather's house,
then in fancied security, and looked out at the flames. The little
fellow for awhile could not speak. He became pale with terror, and with
a loud cry he burst out with this thought: "O, pa, pa, come and see! God
is burning up the world, and He won't make another, and He won't make
another!" It was in vain they tried to pacify him, he still continued
his cry, and it was only when far away from the dreadful scene which
roused so strangely his youthful imagination, that he became calm.
[Illustration: VIEW FROM QUEEN SQUARE.]
But there were other incidents in this quarter of the city which deserve
more than a passing notice. There were deeds of heroism done and hours
of agony endured that should be recorded and remembered. There were
exploits exhibiting a broad humanity and great self-sacrifice performed,
that should not be forgotten or go down unrecognised. We had heroes in
our midst that night, and the man who climbed three stories of a house
enveloped in the flames, and snatched the sleeping infant from its crib,
and brought her safe to her agonized mother in the square below, is as
surely as brave as "he who taketh a city," or marches against the
invader of his country. If there are decorations of honour to be given,
let them be bestowed on those noble ones who saved lives that day. A
case has come under the writer's notice which deserves the fullest
publicity. Mr. D. R. Munro, after working at John McDougall's place in
York Point for some time, and then going to the assistance of an old
lady who was striving to save her bedding, started for Lower Cove in the
direction of Mr. Tucker's house. On his way he noticed with alarm the
extraordinary headway which the fire was making. Trinity and St.
Andrew's were on fire, and the Victoria Hotel just catching. Some of the
streets were so blocked up with people, and thick with flame and smoke,
that he could not pass them. He had to go through Chipman's field, but
he could not get further along Prince William Street. Germain Street was
the only way open to him, and by this thoroughfare he journeyed till he
reached Queen Square. Here Mrs. Freeman, the rigger's wife, was
gathering together her scattered effects, when her little children
raised the cry, "Quick, quick, mother's on fire! Save my mother!" Mr.
Munro and a companion rushed in, seized Mrs. Freeman, wound a carpet
about her, and tried to smother the flames with their hands. As soon as
the carpet was removed from her person, the fire again seized her, when
her clothes had to be torn from her and she was rolled on the grass with
a table-cloth wrapped tightly around her. This saved her life, and she
escaped the awful death which seemed so imminent. Mrs. Tucker's house
was by this time in great danger, the leaping flames were expected
momentarily to snatch it from its base, and people were beginning to get
the furniture away before the shock came. For a moment Mr. Munro lay on
the grass, unable to resume his exertions. He had worked from three in
the afternoon till it was nearly eight o'clock, and with hands and face
burned he rested on the grass. But his rest was of short duration, for
on looking up a sight met his eyes which filled his soul with horror.
Mrs. Tucker's house was on fire and she herself seemed in the very heart
of the flames. He almost flew to her, the courage of the lion and the
quickness of Mercury seemed to come to him all at once, and he was by
her side in an instant. Three times her bonnet caught, and as often was
the blaze extinguished. Mrs. Tucker seemed deaf to all requests of her
friends, who in vain entreated her to go away and leave her house and
furniture to their fate. She still remained by the few things she had
borne away, and it was after eight o'clock before she sought a place of
safety. A sailor was working in the cellar of her house, passing the
things he managed to lay hands on through the window. He was not aware
of his danger, for when he had got in, the flames were a good distance
off, and when he was discovered the house was on fire. In a few moments,
it would come crushing down and bury him in the ruins. Mr. Munro
hastened to his relief. Through his labours the man was rescued, for he
had not been out a hundred seconds, when, in a mass of ruins, the house
came tumbling down. The sailor, who gave his name as Robert Angus, 2nd
officer of the ship "Asiana," sought with Mr. Munro a refuge in the
square, for all hope of getting away by any of the streets was cut off.
Both sides of Charlotte Street and Sydney Street were on fire, and from
St. Andrew's Street all means of exit were away. The two men stood on
the square and looked around them. Strange emotions filled their
breasts. They were alone, standing in the centre of one of the greatest
conflagrations they had ever seen. All round them the giant flames
gathered, and closer and closer, and narrower and narrower the circle
became. The Pagoda in their rear was blazing. The posts here and there
burned at the tops, like so many huge candles. Not a soul was to be seen
on the square but themselves. The streets were deserted. Every one had
fled. The little nests of scattered effects burned on every side of
them, and the stench from smouldering feathers and domestic animals who
died by the score, was intolerable. Neither man for some minutes spoke.
Both looked out into the night. One can guess what thoughts entered
their heads. The advancing fire interrupted their reveries, and as they
could not escape from the plain in which they were imprisoned, they
looked about them for means of preservation from the intense heat, which
became greater at every moment. An old pine table was brought up to the
camping ground they had selected. A headstone of marble that was lying
at their feet, was placed at the head of it, and a carpet was wrapped
around them. In this primitive wigwam the men resolved to pass the
night. The prospect before them was gloomy enough. Just before getting
into this cabin, an old woman came hobbling up towards them, crying
aloud for help. They invited her to share their kennel. She accepted the
invitation and the three refugees watched the flames on every side of
them for two hours. There was silence for a while when the sailor, who
all through had exhibited such nerve and coolness, now showed signs of
trepidation and fear. He began to talk of his home in England, of his
wife and children, and the strong man who could do so much for others,
fairly broke down and wept bitter tears. "Who will take care of them
now, sir," he broke out with a wail. "If I die to-night, hunt them up
and tell them how I died. It is not for myself I feel, but for them,
poor bodies. You know my name and ship, sir, any of my mess-mates will
know what to do if you tell them what became of poor Bob Angus." It
would indeed move a sterner heart than Mr. Munro's, to hear a man like
this talk in a way like that. The sailor who had breasted the billows of
the ocean so long that he had begun to look upon them as his playthings,
crouched that night in his little box in Queen Square, weeping for the
loved ones at home, far, far away. Mrs. Donovan who sat beside the
sailor tried to cheer him up, but it was useless, and her words of
comfort only made him feel worse and writhe in greater agony.
At last, for there is an end to all things, a bold sortie was proposed,
and each of the prisoners sought to force a way out of their natural
prison. Each took a direction, and in the dead of that awful night they
made their way. The hydra-head of the monster ruin withered them at
every turn. Giant walls fell crumbling at their feet, and the fire
flashed and the flames flickered on the heaps of debris which they
encountered on the sideways of their journey. Not a soul could be seen
in the streets. They met no living thing. The silence was as terrible to
them as it is to the lonely pilgrim of the forest, or the traveller in
the distant arctic, who shrieks ever and anon lest he go mad from the
effect of that awful solitude. When the parties met at the corner they
separated and each groped his way homeward through the desert of
desolation. Mr. Munro's loss is very heavy. In working for others he
neglected his own interests, and many of his personal effects have
passed away.
On St. James Street, two buildings stood. One was a very massive and
very beautiful structure, of no precise form of architecture, but very
chaste and elegant for all that. The other was an old wooden barn-like
house that had been decaying for years, and was only waiting to be torn
down by some passing high wind. These two buildings were situate within
a stones throw of each other, and the one could have been saved just as
well as the other. A little nerve, a little will, and a few pails of
water would have done the work. The Marine Hospital was built in a
garden. It was a useful sort of affair in its day, but it had long ago
done all the good that was expected of it. Its day was past, and it must
soon have given way to a fine brick structure, to be located on its
site. When the fire came tearing along, decimating the buildings in
every block, Mr. Barnes, the keeper, and a few of the inmates stationed
themselves in good positions, and began a vigorous defence of the old
place. A number of well directed buckets of water, plied rapidly when
the fire showed itself, was all that these men did, and the old building
was saved. The fire was stubborn, for it tried a hundred times to gain a
foothold, but the men who defended the hospital were just as
indomitable, and the defence was a great success. The hospital now
stands in all its grim shabbiness and ugliness, though a barn near by,
filled with goods of all kinds, including a piano, of course, perished.
People from a distance, who came days afterwards to witness the
desolation, ask with amazement why this great house was saved, and the
noble charity almost opposite, was allowed to burn. But it is hard to
always fathom the short-sightedness of man. All praise is due to Mr.
Barnes and his assistants, for saving even one public building, and it
is a pity his example could not have been followed opposite, when the
Wiggins Orphanage caught. Only one man was left in charge, and it is not
expected that he could do everything in a time when all were at their
wits' end and full of excitement. This splendid charity was instituted
in 1867, and was founded by the late Stephen Wiggins. It was opened July
1, 1876, and erected at a cost of $80,000. Mr. Wiggins left this
magnificent sum for a male Orphan Asylum, under certain provisions.
These were, that each child to be admitted must be born in the City and
County of St. John, preference always to be shown to fatherless children
of mariners; the children must be not under the age of four nor over ten
years at the time of admission, and not to be continued in the
institution after reaching the age of fifteen years. No teacher could be
employed who was a Unitarian, Universalist or Roman Catholic, and no
Governor could act in that capacity if he were of that belief. The
Governors consisted of nine gentlemen. Those at the time of the
incorporation were, the Rev. William Scovil, Charles Merritt, Frederick
A. Wiggins, Hon. John W. Weldon, Beverley Robinson, J. D. Lewin, Geo. C.
Wiggins, Henry W. Frith, and the Rector of St. James' Church. When the
building burned, there were twelve orphans in the Asylum, but they were
safely rescued and sent to Long Island. The present Board consists of
the following gentlemen: Chas. Merritt, Hon. J. D. Lewin, Rev. Wm.
Armstrong, Rev. W. Scovil, Hon. J. W. Weldon, Geo. Sidney Smith, B. L.
Peters, H. W. Frith Rev. F. Brigstocke, with James U. Thomas, as
Secretary. At a meeting of the Governors, held on Monday, the 2nd July,
it was decided to rebuild the Institute very soon. The reader will
notice from the cut which is given of the Orphanage, that it presented a
very pretty front, and was exceedingly well built.
In Mecklenburg Street, all that fine block of buildings on the north
side, beginning with the residence of Mr. John R. Armstrong, and
followed by Mr. John W. Nicholson's castle, the houses of the Messrs.
Magee and others; on the south side Mr. Vaughan's well-built house, and
on the corner the Stevenson property, mentioned just now, burned very
readily. Mr. John Magee's family escaped with their lives only.
[Illustration: CANTERBURY ST., SHOWING RICHIE'S BUILDING IN THE
DISTANCE.
Photo. by G. F. Simonson.]
The fire in Canterbury Street levelled a block of buildings that were
the boast of the city. They were built with great care and especially
designed for the great wholesale trade which was done there. The street
is a narrow one and runs from King Street to Princess Street, and is
crossed by a small alley called Church. Of late years the street has
grown from a comparative by-way or short cut, to an extensive wholesale
stand, where merchants of large means and good business capacity have
met their clients and customers. The stocks kept in these spacious
warehouses have ever been large, and the appliances with which the
stores were supplied actually made business a luxury. The centre
building was erected and occupied by the Hon. Thomas R. Jones, wholesale
dry goods merchant. His shirt factory was situate opposite, next door to
the Printing House of McKillop & Johnston, who used to print _The Weekly
Watchman_. The second pile was built by the same merchant for Messrs. W.
H. Thorne & Co., wholesale hardware merchants, and the building on the
south of the present edifice, was erected by The North British and
Mercantile Insurance Company, Henry Jack, Esq., agent, and leased to
Messrs. Everitt & Butler, wholesale dry goods merchants. Mr. Jack's
office was in this building also. The _Daily News'_ office was between
the latter and the Savings Bank. It was erected some twenty years ago by
the present Queen's printer and former proprietor of the _Daily
News_--the first penny paper--George E. Fenety, Esq. The present
proprietors, Messrs. Willis & Mott, purchased it last September. This
year they made several improvements on it, enlarged it in the rear and
improved the inside. They had begun work on the ground flat when the
fire changed the aspect of affairs. All that was saved were three pages
of type, and the late fyles of the paper. These were carried as far as
Reed's Point, and were only considered safe when they reached water
mark. The building was of brick. The offices were down stairs and
consisted of accountant's room, editor's office and reporters' room.[O]
The Savings' Bank on the corner of Princess and Canterbury Streets was a
building of singularly handsome proportions. It was built in the year
1859, by the St. John County Provident Society, which up to this time
had an office in the old Commercial Bank building. In 1872, the Dominion
Government took it off their hands, had it renovated thoroughly and
changed, and commenced operations in it in 1873, as a Dominion Savings'
Bank. The Assistant Receiver-General and Dominion Auditor had offices in
the bank. Matthew Stead was the architect. The old Post Office in this
street was leased a few months ago to The Paper Company, who had it
repaired and well furnished. In the upper story _The Watchman_ office
was located. Messrs. Bowes & Evans' large stove establishment, and John
Vassie & Co's wholesale dry goods house, entrance on Canterbury Street,
were greedily devoured. The little street suffered severely, for it
represented a very large sum of money. Two well-known institutions were
also burned here, Conroy's hair-dressing establishment and McGinley's
barber-shop.
[Illustration: The Burland Desbarats Lith. Co. Montreal
INSIDE THE SAVINGS BANK.
Photo. by G. F. Simonson.]
FOOTNOTES:
[O] The first steam press in the Maritime Provinces was started
in the _Morning News_ building, then situated directly on the south end
of what is now called Canterbury Street, but which was not then
opened.