Peculiarities of American Cities

A century ago the business of Philadelphia was confined principally to Front street, from Walnut to Arch. Now Second street presents the most extended length of retail stores in the country, and business has spread both north and south almost indefinitely, and is fast creeping westward. Market street presents a double line of business houses, from river to river. Chestnut, the fashionable promenade and locality of the finest hotels and retail stores, is invaded by business beyond Broad, and Arch street beyond Tenth; while Eighth street, even more than Chestnut the resort of shoppers, is, for many squares, built up by large and handsome retail stores. Broad street, lying between Thirteenth and Fifteenth, is the handsomest avenue in Philadelphia. It is fifteen miles in length, and one hundred and thirteen feet in width, and contains many of the finest public buildings and private residences in the city. Ridgway Library, the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, Horticultural Hall, Academy of Music, Broad Street Theatre, Union League Club House, Masonic Temple, Academy of Fine Arts, besides some of the most elegant religious edifices, are located on this street.

At the intersection of Broad and Market, where were once four little squares left in the original plan of the city, and known as Penn Square, are being constructed the vast Public Buildings of the city. They are of white marble, four hundred and eighty-six and one-half feet long by four hundred and seventy feet wide, and four stories high, covering an area of four and one-half acres, not including a large court in the centre. The central tower will, when completed, be four hundred and fifty feet high, and the total cost of the buildings over ten millions of dollars. This building presents a most imposing appearance, whether viewed from Market or Broad streets. The Masonic Temple, just to the north, is one of the handsomest of its kind in America. It is a solid granite structure, in the Norman style, most elaborately ornamented, and with a tower two hundred and thirty feet high. Its interior is finished in a costly manner, and after the several styles of architecture. The Academy of Music is one of the largest opera houses in America, being capable of seating three thousand persons.

Third street is the banking and financial centre of Philadelphia; on Walnut street are found the greatest proportion of insurance offices; South street is the cheap retail street, and is crowded with shoppers, especially on market days, and the Jews reign here supreme. Bainbridge street (once Shippen) east of Broad represents the squalor and crime of the city. "Old clo'" and second-hand stores of all descriptions alternate with low drinking places, and occupy forlorn and tumble-down tenements. All races and colors, and both sexes mingle here, and the man who sighs for missionary work need go no further than this quarter.

Chestnut street is, next to Broad, the handsomest in the city. The buildings are all of comparatively recent construction, and are many of them handsome and costly. On Market street the past century still manifests itself in quaint houses of two or three stories in height, sometimes built of alternate black and red bricks, and occasionally with queer dormer windows, wedged in between more stately and more modern neighbors. It will be some time before the street becomes thoroughly modernized, and we can scarcely wish that it may become so, for the city would thus lose much of its quaint interest.

One of the characteristics of Philadelphia which strikes the traveler is that it wears an old-time air, far more so than Boston or New York. Boston cannot straighten her originally crooked streets, but her thought and spirit are entirely of the nineteenth century. New York is intensely modern, the few relics of the past which still remain contrasting and emphasizing still more strongly the life and bustle and business of to-day. Philadelphia is a quiet city. Its people do not rush hither and thither, as though but one day remained in which to accomplish a life work. They take time to walk, to eat, to sleep, and to attend to their business. In brief, they take life far more easily and slowly than their metropolitan neighbors. They do not enter into wild speculative schemes; they have no such Stock Exchange, where bulls and bears roar and paw the ground, or where they may make or lose fortunes in less time than it takes to eat one's dinner. They are a steady, plodding people, accumulating handsome fortunes in solid, legitimate ways. There is little of the rustle and roar of the elder city; save for the continual ring and rattle of the street cars, which cross the city in every direction, many of its quarters are as quiet as a country village. Its early Quaker settlers have stamped it with the quiet and placidity which is the leading trait of their sect; and though the Quaker garb is seen less and less often upon the streets, the early stamp seems to have been indelible.

Philadelphia retains more of the old customs, old houses, and, perhaps, old laws, than any other city in the country. The Quaker City lawyer carries his brief in a green bag, as the benches of the Inner Temple used to do in Penn's time. The baker cuts a tally before the door each morning, just as the old English baker used to do three centuries ago. After a death has occurred in it, a house is put into mourning, having the shutters bowed and tied with black ribbon, not to be opened for at least a year. There are laws (seldom executed, it is true, but still upon the statute-books), against profanity and Sabbath-breaking, and even regulating the dress of women.

Some of the streets of Philadelphia bear strongly the marks of the past. Those, especially, near the river, which were built up in the early days, have not yet been entirely renovated; while some ancient buildings of historic interest have been preserved with jealous care. First and foremost among the latter is Independence Hall, occupying the square upon Chestnut street between Fifth and Sixth streets – no doubt, considered an imposing edifice at the time of its erection, but now overshadowed by the business palaces which surround it. It was here that the second Colonial Congress met; here that the Declaration of Independence was adopted; and here that the United States Congress assembled, until the seat of the General Government was removed to Washington, in 1800. In Congress Hall, in the second story of this building, Washington delivered his Farewell Address. The building is now preserved with great care. The hall where the Declaration of Independence was signed is decorated with portraits of the signers, and contains, among other objects of interest, as before stated, the bell which pealed out freedom to all.

Next in historic importance is Carpenters' Hall, between Third and Fourth streets. The first Continental Congress met here, and here the first words pointing toward a collision with the mother country were spoken in Philadelphia.

When William Penn made his first visit to Philadelphia, on October twenty-fourth, 1682, he set foot upon his new possessions at the Blue Anchor Landing, at the mouth of Dock Creek, in the vicinity of what is now the corner of Front and Dock streets. Here stood the Blue Anchor Inn, the first house built within the ancient limits of the city. Then, and long afterwards, Dock Creek was a considerable stream, running through the heart of the town. But, in course of time, the water became offensive, from the drainage of the city, and it was finally arched over, and turned into a sewer. The winding of Dock street is accounted for by the fact that it follows the former course of the creek. Sloops once anchored and discharged their cargoes where now stands Girard Bank, on Third street, below Chestnut.

Between Chestnut and Market streets, Second and Front, is found Letitia street, where long stood the first brick house built in the Province, erected for the use of Penn himself, and named after his daughter Letitia. He directed that it should "be pitched in the middle of the platt of the town, facing the harbor." The bricks, wooden carvings and other materials, were imported from England. At the time of its construction a forest swept down to the river in front, forming a natural park, where deer ranged at will. Letitia House became a lager beer saloon, the front painted with foaming pots of beer. But business interests claimed the site and the old house was removed and carefully re-erected in Fairmount Park.

The old Slate Roof House, long one of the ancient landmarks, on Second street below Chestnut, the residence of William Penn on his second visit to this country, during which visit John, his only "American" son was born, and where other noted persons lived and died, or at least visited, was removed in 1867, to make room for the Commercial Exchange.

Not far off, on Second street, north of Market, is Christ's Church, occupying the site of the first church erected by the followers of Penn. The present edifice was begun in 1727. Washington's coach and four used to draw up proudly before it each Sabbath, and himself and Lady Washington, Lord Howe, Cornwallis, Benedict Arnold, Andre, Benjamin Franklin, De Chastellux, the Madisons, the Lees, Patrick Henry and others whose names have become incorporated in American history, have worshiped here. In the aisles are buried various persons, great men in their day, but forgotten now. The chime of bells in the lofty tower is the oldest in America, and were cast in London. This chime joined the State House bell on that memorable Fourth of July, when the latter proclaimed liberty throughout the land. Just opposite this church is a small street, opening into Second street, its eastern end closed by a tall block of warehouses. This street contained Stephen Girard's stores and houses.

The great elm tree, at Kensington, under which Penn made his famous treaty with the Indians, remained until 1800, when it was blown down. An insignificant stone now marks the spot, being inclosed by a fence, and surrounded by stone and lumber yards. An elm overshadows it – possibly, a lineal descendant of the historic tree.

There is an older religious edifice in Philadelphia than Christ's Church. It is the old Swedes' Church, erected in 1697, not far from Front and Christian streets, by early Swedish missionaries. Though insignificant, compared with modern churches, it was regarded as a magnificent structure by the Quakers, Swedes and Indians, who first beheld it. The inside carvings, bell and communion service, were a gift of the Swedish king. In the graveyard which surrounds it are found the dead of nearly two centuries ago, some of the slate-stones over the older graves having been imported from the mother country. Here sleeps Sven Schute and his descendants, once, under Swedish dominion, lords of all the land on which Philadelphia now stands. None of his name now lives. Here lie buried, forgotten, Bengtossens, Peterssens, and Bonds. Wilson, the ornithologist, was a frequent attendant at this church, early in the present century, and he lies in the church yard, having been buried there by his own request, as it was "a silent, shady place, where the birds would be apt to come and sing over his grave." The English sparrows have built their nests above it.

An ancient house possessing special historic interest stands on Front street, a few doors above Dock. It is built of glazed black bricks, with a hipped roof, and, though it was a place of note in its day, occupied by one generation after another of the ruling Quakers, it has now degenerated into a workingmen's coffee-house. To it the Friends conducted Franklin on his return from England. War was not yet declared, but there were mutterings in the distance; all awaited Franklin's counsels, sitting silently, as is their wont, waiting for the spirit to move to utterance, when Franklin stood up and cried out: "To arms, my friends, to arms!"

Franklin has left many associations in the city of his adoption. As a boy of seventeen he trudged up High, now Market street, munching one roll, with another under his arm, friendless and unknown. Even his future wife smiled in ridicule as he passed by. To-day statues are erected to his memory, and institutions named after him. The Philadelphia Library, the oldest and richest in the city, claims him as one of its original founders. In 1729, the Junto, a little association of tradesmen of which Franklin was a member, used to meet in the chamber of a little house in Pewter-platter alley, to exchange their books. Franklin suggested that there should be a small annual subscription, in order to increase the stock. To-day the library contains many thousand volumes, with many rare and valuable manuscripts and pamphlets. This library contains Penn's desk and clock, John Penn's cabinet, and a colossal bust of Minerva which overlooked the deliberations of the Continental Congress. In an old graveyard at the corner of Fifth and Arch, a section of iron railing in the stone wall which surrounds it permits the passer to view the plain marble slab which covers the remains of Franklin and his wife.

Speaking of libraries, the Apprentices' Library, on the opposite corner of Fifth and Arch, overlooks Franklin's grave. It was established by the Quakers, and dates back to 1783. The apprentice system has died out, and the library is almost forgotten.

As late as 1876, stood the old Quaker Almshouse, on Willings alley, between Third and Fourth streets, of which Longfellow gives this description in his poem, "Evangeline: " —

"Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of meadows and woodlands; —Now the city surrounds it; but still with its gateway and wicket,Meek in the midst of splendor, its humble walls seem to echoSoftly the words of the Lord: 'The poor ye always have with you.'"

Here Evangeline came when the pestilence fell on the city, when —

"Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes from the belfry of Christ Church,While intermingled with these, across the meadows were waftedSounds of psalms that were sung by the Swedes in their church at Wicaco."

And here Evangeline found Gabriel. The ancient building is now leveled, and only the poem remains.

Germantown, now incorporated in Philadelphia, is rich in historic associations. Stenton, a country seat near Germantown, was for generations the centre of the social life of the Quakers. It was built in 1731, by James Logan, and was finished with secret passages and underground ways, to be used in case of attack by Indians and others. The Chew House at Germantown was, during the Revolution, used by Colonel Musgrove and six companies, for a long time. The old Johnson House had its hall door, which is still preserved, riddled by cannon. In many private lawns and gardens of that suburb royalists and rebels sleep peacefully side by side. A house, now quaint in its antiquity, at the intersection of Main street and West Walnut lane, was used during the Revolution as a hospital and amputating room. The old Wistar House, built in 1744, played a part in the events of the last century, and contains furniture which once belonged to Franklin and Count Zinzendorf. There is a room filled with relics of early times.

In 1755 the corner stone of Pennsylvania Hospital was laid. This corner stone having been recently uncovered, in making alterations to the building, the following inscription, of which Franklin was the author, was discovered: "In the Year of Christ, MDCCLV, George the Second happily reigning (for he sought the happiness of his people) – Philadelphia flourishing (for its inhabitants were public spirited) – This Building, By the Bounty of the Government, and of many private persons, was piously founded For the Relief of the Sick and Miserable. May the God of Mercies Bless the undertaking!"

A noticeable and commendable feature of Philadelphia is its many workingmen's homes. In New York the middle classes, whose incomes are but moderate, are compelled to seek residences in cheap flats and tenement houses, or else go into the country, at the daily expense of car or ferry rides. But in Philadelphia flats are unknown, and tenement life – several families crowded under a single roof – confined almost entirely to the more wretched quarters of the city. There are streets upon streets of comfortable and neat dwellings, marble-faced and marble-stepped, with their prim white shutters, two or three stories in height, and containing from six to nine rooms, with all the conveniences of gas, bath-room and water, which are either rented at moderate rates or owned outright by single families, who may possibly rent out a room or two to lodgers. Philadelphia may have less elegant public and business edifices than New York, but her dwelling houses stand as far more desirable monuments to the prosperity of a people than the splendor united with the squalor of the metropolis.

The manufactures of Philadelphia furnish the foundation of her prosperity. Her iron foundries produce more than one-third of the manufactured iron of the country, and number among them some of the largest in America. The Port Richmond Iron Works of I. P. Morris & Company cover, with their various buildings, five acres of ground. The Baldwin Locomotive Works, on Broad street, founded in 1831, employ a large force of men. It takes eighteen hundred men one day to complete and make ready for service a single locomotive; yet these works turn out three hundred locomotives a year. Some of the largest men-of-war in the world have also been built at the navy yards in Philadelphia and League Island. Among them is the old Pennsylvania, of one hundred and twenty guns. Besides her iron works there are many mills and factories. Miles of carpet, of superior quality, are woven every day, besides immense quantities of other woolen and cotton goods and shoes. Her retail stores, taken as a whole, will not compare in size and elegance with those of New York, though there are two or three exceptions to this rule.

The headquarters of the Pennsylvania Railroad is at Philadelphia, and there is a grand depot on Broad street, near Market, which is palatial in its appointments.

Of her places of amusement, the Academy of Music ranks first in size. There are numerous theatres, among which the Walnut Street Theatre is the oldest, and the Arch Street Theatre the most elegantly finished and furnished, and the best managed. With these and other places of amusement, are associated the names of all the prominent musicians, actors and actresses of the past and present. The Academy of Music was not built when Jenny Lind visited this country, but it was ready for occupancy only a few years later; and has witnessed the triumphs of many a prima donna, now forgotten by the public, which then worshiped her. Forrest began his theatrical career in Philadelphia; and the names of noted tragedians and comedians who have come and gone upon her boards are legion.

Of churches Philadelphia has many, and beautiful ones. On three corners of Broad and Arch streets tall and slender spires point heavenward, rising from three of the most costly churches in the city. Surpassing them all, however, is the Roman Catholic Cathedral of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, on Logan Square. It is of red sandstone, in the Corinthian style, and is surmounted by a dome two hundred and ten feet high. The interior is cruciform and richly frescoed. The altar piece is by Brumidi.

Also, fronting on Logan Square, at the corner of Nineteenth and Race streets, is the Academy of Natural Sciences, containing a library of twenty-six thousand volumes, and most extensive, valuable and interesting collections in zoölogy, ornithology, geology, mineralogy, conchology, ethnology, archæology and botany. The museum contains over two hundred and fifty thousand specimens, and Agassiz pronounced it one of the finest natural science collections in the world. It also contains a perfect skeleton of a whale, a complete ancient saurian, twenty-five feet long, and the fossil remains of a second saurian so much larger than the first that it fed upon it.

Franklin Institute is devoted to science and the mechanical arts, and contains a library of fifteen thousand volumes. The Mercantile Library occupies a stately edifice, on Tenth street below Market, and contains over fifty thousand volumes, exclusive of periodicals and papers. On an average, five hundred books are loaned daily, from this institution.

The newspapers of Philadelphia rank second only to those of New York. The Ledger has a magnificent building at the corner of Sixth and Chestnut, complete in all its appointments, from engine rooms, in the basement, to type-setting rooms in the top story. The Times building, at the corner of Eighth and Chestnut, is also very fine. The Public Record building, newly finished, on Chestnut street above Ninth, near the new Post Office, surpasses all others. It represents the profits of a daily penny paper, giving news in a condensed form, to meet the wants of a working and busy public.

Philadelphia once represented the literary centre of the country. It took the lead in periodic literature half a century ago, and claimed, as residents, some of the most brilliant novelists, essayists and poets of the day. But the glory of that age has departed. The Continent, a weekly magazine, sought to revive the prestige of the city, but soon removed to New York, where it died.

The Medical Colleges of Philadelphia have long stood in the front rank, and have attracted students from all parts of the country. A Woman's Medical College is in successful operation, with a fine hospital connected with it.

Philadelphia has an educational system embracing schools of different grades, and a High School. But it pays its teachers less salaries than most of the other cities, and the standard of the schools is not so high as it should be, in consequence. Girard College should not be overlooked, while speaking of educational institutions. Architecturally, it is a magnificent marble building, in Grecian style. It is located near the Schuylkill River, on Girard avenue. When Girard selected the location for his proposed college, it was so far out in the country, that he never thought the city would creep up to it. But to-day the college is inclosed by it, and its high stone walls block many a street, to the inconvenience of the people of the neighborhood. It was established for the practical education of orphan boys, and one of the provisions of its founder – himself a free thinker – was, that no religious instruction should be imparted to the pupils, and no clergyman be permitted to enter its doors; a provision which is widely interpreted, to the effect that no sectarian bias is given in the college.

The United States Mint, located on Chestnut street, above Thirteenth, is copied from a Grecian temple at Athens. It contains a very valuable collection of coins, embracing those of almost every period of the world and every nation. The Custom House is an imitation of the Pantheon at Athens. The new Post Office is on Ninth street, extending from Chestnut to Market. It is a spacious granite structure, in the Renaissance style, four stories in height, with an iron dome, and when completed will cost about four millions of dollars.

On the opposite corner from the Post Office is the Continentel Hotel, a spacious structure which, when erected, was the largest of its kind in the country. It is now exceeded in size by several other hotels in other cities, but it is noted for the elegance and excellence of the entertainment it offers its guests. Girard Hotel is immediately opposite, and ranks second only to the Continental.

The Eastern Penitentiary is on Fairmount avenue, on what was once known as Cherry Hill. In it is practiced the plan of solitary confinement for prisoners. When Dickens paid his first visit to America, more than forty years ago, he visited this prison, and was so moved to pity by the solitude of its inmates, that he wrote a touching account of one of the prisoners, in whom he was especially interested. But this very prisoner, when he was set at liberty, soon committed another crime which sent him back to his silent and solitary cell, and every subsequent release was followed by a subsequent crime and subsequent imprisonment. Finally, when Dickens had been in his grave for years, the old man, still hale and hearty, but bearing the marks of age, was once more set free. Attention was attracted to him by the newspapers, as having been the prison hero of Dickens. The public became interested in him, and an effort was made to place him beyond the temptation of crime, so that he might go down to his grave a free man. But before many months had elapsed, life in the outer world became irksome to him, and he returned, by his well-beaten path, back to the penitentiary. He was very proud of the notice which Dickens had bestowed upon him, and it seemed to more than compensate for the loss of his liberty.