Part 33

Of "Powell," his third name we have already spoken elsewhere, and shall again almost immediately have to speak.

When it shall be proposed to alter the name of Dummer Street, with the hope, perhaps, of improving the fame of the locality along with its name, let the case of March Street be recalled. In the case of March Street, the rose, notwithstanding a change of name, retained its perfume: and the Colonial Minister of the day, Lord Stanley, received but a sorry compliment when his name was made to displace that of the Earl of March. (It was from this second title of the Duke of Richmond that March Street had its name.)--It is probable that the Dummer Street of to-day, like the March Street of yesterday, would, under another name, continue much what it is. In all such quarters, it is not a change of name that is of any avail: but the presence of the schoolmaster and home-missionary, backed up by landlords and builders, studious of the public health and morals, as well as of private interests.

_Digression Northward at the College Avenue._

The fine vista of the College Avenue, opposite to which we have now arrived, always recalls to our recollection a certain bright spring morning, when on reaching school a whole holiday was unexpectedly announced; and when, as a mode of filling up a portion of the unlooked-for vacant time, it was agreed between two or three young lads to pay a visit to the place on Lot Street where, as the report had spread amongst us, they were beginning to make visible preparations for the commencement of the University of King's College. The minds of growing lads in the neighbourhood of York at that period had very vague ideas of what a University really was. It was a place where studies were carried on, but how or under what conditions, there was of necessity little conception. Curiosity, however, was naturally excited by the talk on the lips of every one that a University was one day to be established at York; and now suddenly we learned that actual beginnings were to be seen of the much-talked-of institution. On the morning of the fine spring day referred to, we accordingly undertook an exploration.

On arriving at the spot to which we had been directed, we found that a long strip of land running in a straight line northwards had been marked out, after the manner of a newly-opened side line or concession road in the woods. We found a number of men actually at work with axes and mattocks; yokes of oxen, too, were straining at strong ploughs, which forced a way in amongst the roots and small stumps of the natural brushwood, and, here and there, underneath a rough mat of tangled grass, bringing to light, now black vegetable mould, now dry clay, now loose red sand. Longitudinally, up the middle of the space marked off, several bold furrows were cut, those on the right inclining to the left, and those on the left inclining to the right, as is the wont in primitive turnpiking.

One novelty we discovered, viz., that on each side along a portion of the newly-cleared ground, young saplings had been planted at regular intervals; these, we were told, were horse-chestnuts, procured from the United States expressly for the purpose of forming a double row of trees here. In the neighbourhood of York the horse-chestnut was then a rarity.

Everywhere throughout the North American continent, as in the numerous newly-opened areas of the British Empire elsewhere on the globe's surface, instances, of course, abound of wonderful progress made in a brief interval of time. For ourselves, we seem sometimes as if we were moving among the unrealities of a dream when we deliberately review the steps in the march of physical and social improvement, which, within a fractional portion only of a retrospect not very extended, can be recalled, in the region where our own lot has been cast, and, in particular, in the neighbourhood where we are at this moment pausing.

The grand mediaeval-looking structure of University College in the grounds at the head of the Avenue, continues to this day to be a surprise somewhat bewildering to the eye and mind, whenever it breaks upon our view. It looks so completely a thing of the old world and of an age long past away. To think that one has walked over its site before one stone was laid upon another thereon, seems almost like a mental hallucination.

A certain quietness of aspect and absence of overstrain after architectural effect give the massive pile an air of great genuineness. The irregular grouping of its many parts appears the undesigned result of accretion growing out of the necessities of successive years. The whole looks in its place, and as if it had long occupied it. The material of its walls, left for the most part superficially in the rough, has the appearance of being weather-worn. An impression of age, too, is given by the smooth finish of the surrounding grounds and spacious drives by which, on several sides, the building is approached, as also by the goodly size of the well-grown oaks and other trees through whose outstretched branches it is usually first caught sight of, from across the picturesque ravine.

Of the still virgin condition of the surrounding soil, however, we have some unmistakeable evidence in the ponderous granitic boulders every here and there heaving up their grey backs above the natural greensward, undisturbed since the day when they dropped suddenly down from the dissolving ice-rafts that could no longer endure their weight.

Seen at a little distance, as from Yonge Street for example, the square central tower of the University, with the cone-capped turret at its north-east angle, rising above a pleasant horizon of trees, and outlined against an afternoon sky, is something thoroughly English, recalling Rugby or Warwick. On a nearer approach, this same tower, combined with the portal below, bears a certain resemblance to the gateway of the Abbey of Bury St. Edmunds, as figured in Palgrave's "Anglo-Saxons;" and the elaborate and exquisite work about the recessed circular-headed entrance enables one to realize with some degree of certainty how the enriched front of that and other noble mediaeval structures, seen by us now corroded and mutilated, looked when fresh from the hands that so cunningly carved them.

In the two gigantic blind-worms, likewise, stretched in terrorem on the sloping parapets of the steps leading to the door, benumbed, not dead; giving in their extremities, still faint evidence of life, we have a sermon in stone, which the brethren of a masonic guild of Wykeham's day would readily have expounded. As we enter a house devoted to learning and study, is it not fitting that the eye should be greeted with a symbol of the paralyzing power of Science over Ignorance and Superstition?

Moreover, sounds that come at stated intervals from that central tower, make another link of sympathy with the old mother-land. Every night at nine, "swinging slow with solemn roar," the great bell of the University is agreeably suggestive of Christ Church, Oxford, St. Mary's, Cambridge, and other places beyond the sea, which to the present hour give back an echo of the ancient Curfew.

And if to this day the University building, in its exterior aspect and accidents, is startling to those who knew its site when as yet in a state of nature, its interior also, when traversed and explored, tends in the same persons to produce a degree of confusion as between things new and old; as between Canada and elsewhere. Within its walls are to be seen appliances and conveniences and luxuries for the behoof and use of teacher and student, unknown a few years since in many an ancient seat of learning.

In a library of Old World aspect and arrangement, is a collection rich in the Greek and Latin Classics, in Epigraphy and Archaeology, beyond anything of the kind in any other collection on this continent, and beyond what is to be met with in those departments in many a separate College within the precincts of the ancient Universities--a pre-eminence due to the tastes and special studies of the first president and other early professors of the Canadian Institution.

Strange, it is, yet true that hither, as to a recognized source of certain aid in identification and decipherment, are duly transmitted, by cast, rubbing and photograph, the "finds" that from time to time create such excitement and delight among epigraphists, and ethnologists, and other minute historical investigators in the British Islands and elsewhere.

There used to be preserved in the Old Hospital a model in cork and card-board, of the great educational establishment to which, in the first instance, the Avenue was expected to form an approach. It was very curious. Had it been really followed, a large portion of the park provided for the reception of the University would have been covered with buildings. A multitude of edifices, isolated and varying in magnitude, were scattered about, with gardens and ornamental grounds interspersed. These were halls of science, lecture-rooms, laboratories, residences for president, vice-president, professors, officials and servants of every grade. On the widely extended premises occupied by the proposed institution, a population was apparently expected to be found that would, of itself, have almost sufficed to justify representation in Parliament--a privilege the college was actually by its charter to enjoy. We should have had in fact realized before our eyes, on a considerable scale, a part of the dreams of Plato and More, a fragment of Atlantis and Utopia.

When the moment arrived, however, for calling into visible being the long contemplated seat of learning, it was found expedient to abandon the elaborate model which had been constructed. Mr. Young, a local architect, was directed to devise new plans. His ideas appear to have been wholly modern. Notwithstanding the tenor of the Royal Charter, which suggested the precedents of the old universities of "our United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland," wherever it should be practicable to follow them, the architecture and arrangements customary in those places were ignored. Girard College, Philadelphia, seems to have inspired the new designs. However, only a minute fragment of one of the buildings of the new plan was destined ever to exist.

The formal commencement of the abortive work took place on the 23rd of April, 1842--a day indelibly impressed on the memory of those who participated in the proceedings. It was one of the sunniest and brightest of days. In the year just named it happened that so early as St. George's day the leaves of the horse-chestnut were bursting their glossy sheaths, and vegetation generally was in a very advanced stage. A procession, such as had never before been seen in these parts, slowly defiled up the Avenue to the spot where the corner-stone of the proposed University was to be laid.

A highly wrought contemporary description of the scene is given in a note in _Curiae Canadenses_: "The vast procession opened its ranks, and his Excellency the Chancellor, with the President, the Lord Bishop of Toronto, on his right, and the Senior Visitor, the Chief Justice, on his left, proceeded on foot through the College Avenue to the University grounds. The countless array moved forward to the sound of military music. The sun shone out with cloudless meridian splendour; one blaze of banners flushed upon the admiring eye.--The Governor's rich Lord-Lieutenant's dress, the Bishop's sacerdotal robes, the Judicial Ermine of the Chief Justice, the splendid Convocation robes of Dr. McCaul, the gorgeous uniforms of the suite, the accoutrements of the numerous Firemen, the national badges worn by the Office-bearers of the different Societies, and what on such a day (St. George's) must not be omitted, the Red Crosses on the breasts of England's congregated sons, the grave habiliments of the Clergy and Lawyers, and the glancing lances and waving plumes of the First Incorporated Dragoons, all formed one moving picture of civic pomp, one glorious spectacle which can never be remembered but with satisfaction by those who had the good fortune to witness it. The following stanza from a Latin Ode," the note goes on to say, "recited by Master Draper, son of the late Attorney-General, after the ceremony, expresses in beautifully classical language the proud occasion of all this joy and splendid pageantry:--

"Io! triumphe! flos Canadensium! Est alma nobis mater; aemula Britanniae haec sit nostra terra,-- Terra diu domibus negata!"

Another contemporary account adds: "As the procession drew nearer to the site where the stone was to be laid, the 43rd Regiment lined the way, with soldiers bearing arms, and placed on either side, at equal intervals. The 93rd Regiment was not on duty here, but in every direction the gallant Highlanders were scattered through the crowd, and added by their national garb and nodding plumes to the varied beauty of the animated scene. When the site was reached," this account says, "a new feature was added to the interest of the ceremony. Close to the spot, the north-east corner, where the foundation was to be deposited, a temporary building had been erected for the Chancellor, and there, accompanied by the officers of the University and his suite, he took his stand. Fronting this was a kind of amphitheatre of seats, constructed for the occasion, tier rising above tier, densely filled with ladies, who thus commanded a view of the whole ceremony. Between this amphitheatre and the place where the Chancellor stood, the procession ranged itself."

The Chancellor above spoken of was the Governor General of the day, Sir Charles Bagot, a man of noble bearing and genial, pleasant aspect. He entered with all the more spirit into the ceremonies described, from being himself a graduate of one of the old universities. Memories of far-off Oxford and Christ Church would be sure to be roused amidst the proceedings that rendered the 23rd of April, 1842, so memorable amongst us. A brother of Sir Charles' was at the time Bishop of Oxford. In his suite, as one of his Secretaries, was Captain Henry Bagot, of the Royal Navy, his own son. Preceding him in the procession, bearing a large gilded mace, was an "Esquire Bedell," like the Chancellor himself, a Christ Church man, Mr. William Cayley, subsequently a member of the Canadian Government.

Although breaking ground for the University building had been long delayed, the commencement now made proved to be premature. The edifice begun was never completed, as we have already intimated; and even in its imperfect, fragmentary condition, it was not fated to be for any great length of time a scene of learned labours. In 1856 its fortune was to be converted into a Female Department for the over-crowded Provincial Lunatic Asylum.

The educational system inaugurated in the new building in 1843 was, as the plate enclosed in the foundation-stone finely expressed it, "praestantissimum ad exemplar Britannicarum Universitatum." But the "exemplar" was not, in practice, found to be, as a whole, adapted to the genius of the Western Canadian people.

The revision of the University scheme with a view to the necessities of Western Canada, was signalized by the erection in 1857 of a new building on an entirely different site, and a migration to it bodily, of president, professors and students, without departing however from the bounds of the spacious park originally provided for the institution; and it is remarkable that, while deviating, educationally and otherwise, in some points, from the pattern of the ancient universities, as they were in 1842, a nearer approach, architecturally, was made to the mediaeval English College than any that had been thought of before. Mr. Cumberland, the designer of the really fine and most appropriate building in which the University at length found a resting place, was, as is evident, a man after the heart of Wykeham and Wayneflete.

The story of our University is a part of the history of Upper Canada. From the first foundation of the colony the idea of some such seat of learning entered into the scheme of its organization. In 1791, before he had yet left England for the unbroken wilderness in which his Government was to be set up, we have General Simcoe speaking to Sir Joseph Banks, the President of the Royal Society, of "a college of a higher class," as desirable in the community which he was about to create. "A college of a higher class," he says, "would be eminently useful, and would give a tone of principles and of manners that would be of infinite support to Government." In the same letter he remarks to Sir Joseph, "My friend the Marquis of Buckingham has suggested that Government might allow me a sum of money to be laid out for a Public Library, to be composed of such books as might be useful in the colony. He instanced the Encyclopaedia, extracts from which might occasionally be published in the newspapers. It is possible," he adds, "private donations might be obtained, and that it would become an object of Royal munificence."

It was naturally long before the community of Upper Canada was ripe for a college of the character contemplated; but provision for its ultimate existence and sustenance was made, almost from the beginning, in the assignment to that object of a fixed and liberal portion of the public lands of the country.

In 1819-20, Gourlay spoke of the unpreparedness of Upper Canada as yet for a seat of learning of a high grade. Meanwhile, as a temporary expedient, he suggested a romantic scheme. "It has been proposed," he says, "to have a college in Upper Canada; and no doubt in time colleges will grow up there. At present, and for a considerable period to come, any effort to found a college would prove abortive. There could neither be got masters nor scholars to ensure a tolerable commencement for ten years to come; and a feeble beginning might beget a feeble race of teachers and pupils. In the United States," he continued, "academies and colleges, though fast improving, are yet but raw; and greatly inferior to those in Britain, generally speaking. Twenty-five lads sent annually at public charge from Upper Canada to British Universities, would draw after them many more. The youths themselves, generally, would become desirous of making a voyage in quest of learning.--Crossing the ocean on such an errand would elevate their ideas, and stir them up to extraordinary exertions. They would become finished preachers, lawyers, physicians, merchants; and, returning to their native country, would repay in wisdom what was expended in goodness and liberality. What more especially invites the adoption of such a scheme is the amiable and affectionate connection which it would tend to establish between Canada and Britain. But it will not do at present to follow out the idea."

Gourlay's prediction that "in time colleges will grow up there" has been speedily verified. The town especially, of which in its infant state he spoke in such terms of contempt, has been so prolific of colleges that it is now become a kind of Salamanca for the country at large; a place of resort for students from all parts. It is well probably for Canada that the scheme of drafting a batch of young students periodically to the old country, was not adopted. Canada would thereby possibly, on the one hand, have lost the services of some of the cleverest of her sons, who, on obtaining academic distinction would have preferred to remain in the mother country, entering on one or other of the public careers to which academic distinction there opens the ready path; and, on the other hand, she should, in many an instance, it is to be feared, have received back her sons just unfitted, in temper and habit, for life under matter-of-fact colonial conditions.

In the original planting of the Avenue, up whose fine vista we have been gazing, the mistake was committed of imitating nature too closely. Numerous trees and shrubs of different kinds and habits were mingled together as they are usually to be seen in a wild primitive wood; and thus the growth and fair development of all were hindered. The horse-chestnuts alone should have been relied on to give character to the Avenue; and of these there should have been on each side a double row, with a promenade for pedestrians underneath, after the manner of the great walks in the public parks of the old towns of Europe.

XXII.

QUEEN STREET--FROM THE COLLEGE AVENUE TO BROCK STREET AND SPADINA AVENUE.

Pursuing our way now westward from the Avenue leading to the University, we pass the Powell park-lot, on which was, up to recent times, the family vault of the Powells, descendants of the Chief Justice. The whole property was named by the fancy of the first possessor, Caer-Howell, Castle Howell, in allusion to the mythic Hoel, to whom all ap-Hoels trace their origin. Dummer Street, which opens northward a little further on, retains, as we have said, the second baptismal name of Chief Justice Powell.

Beverley House and its surroundings, on the side opposite Caer Howell estate, recall one whose name and memory must repeatedly recur in every narrative of our later Canadian history, Sir John Robinson.--This was the residence temporarily of Poulett Thomson, afterwards Lord Sydenham, while present in Toronto as Governor-General of the Canadas in 1839-40. A kitchen on a large scale which he caused to be built on the premises of Beverley House, is supposed to have been an auxiliary, indirectly, in getting the Union measure through the Upper Canada Parliament. In a letter to a friend, written at Montreal in 1840, he gives a sketch of his every-day life: it describes equally well the daily distribution of his time here in Toronto. "Work in my room," he says, "till three o'clock; a ride with my aide-de-camp till five; work again till dinner; at dinner till nine; and work again till early next morning. This is my daily routine. My dinners last till ten, when I have company, which is about three times a week; except one night in the week, when I receive about 150 people."

His policy was, as we know, very successful. Of the state of things at Toronto, and in Upper Canada generally, after the Union measure had been pushed through, he writes to a friend thus: "I have prorogued my Parliament," he says, "and I send you my Speech. Never was such unanimity! When the Speaker read it in the Commons, after the prorogation, they gave me three cheers, in which even the ultras united. In fact, as the matter stands now, the Province is in a state of peace and harmony which, three months ago, I thought was utterly hopeless."

In a private letter of the following year (1841), he alludes to his influence in these terms: "I am in the midst," he says, "of the bustle attending the opening of the Session, and have, besides, a ministerial 'crisis' on my hands. The latter I shall get through triumphantly, unless my _wand_, as they call it here, has lost all power over the members, which I do not believe to be the case." This was written at Kingston, where, it will be remembered, the seat of Government was established for a short time after the union of Upper and Lower Canada.

Through Poulett Thomson, Toronto for a few months and to the extent of one-half, was the seat of a modern feudal barony. On being elevated to the peerage, the Governor-General, who had carried the Union, was created Baron Sydenham of Sydenham in Kent and Toronto in Canada.