“This avenue was enlivened with apparitions of grave matrons and stirring damsels, moving erect in stately transit, like the wooden and pasteboard figures of a puppet-show; our present grandmothers, arrayed in gorgeous brocade and taffeta, luxuriantly displayed over hoops, with comely bodices, laced around that ancient piece of armour, the stay, disclosing most perilous waists; and with sleeves that clung to the arm as far as the elbow, where they took a graceful leave, in ruffles that stood off like the feathers of a bantam. And such faces as they bore along with them!—so rosy, so spirited, and sharp!—with the hair all drawn back over a cushion, until it lifted the eyebrows, giving an amazingly fierce and supercilious tone to the countenance, and falling in cataracts upon the shoulders. Then they stepped away with such a mincing gait, in shoes of many colours, with formidable points to the toes, and high and tottering heels, fancifully cut in wood; their tower-built hats garnished with tall feathers that waved aristocratically backward at each step, as if they took a pride in the slow paces of the wearer.
“In the train of these goodly groups came the beaux and gallants, who upheld the chivalry of the age; cavaliers of the old school, full of starch and powder, most of them the iron gentlemen of the revolution, with leather faces—old campaigners, renowned for long stories, fresh from the camp, with their military erectness and daredevil swagger; proper roystering blades, who had just got out of the harness, and began to affect the manners of civil life. Who but they!—jolly fellows, fiery, and loud!—with stern glances of the eye, and a brisk turn of the head, and a swashbuckler strut of defiance, like game cocks; all in three-cornered hats and wigs, and light-coloured coats, with narrow capes and marvellous long backs, with the pockets on each hip, and small-clothes that hardly reached the knee; and striped stockings, with great buckles in their shoes, and their long steel chains that hung conceitedly, half way to the knee, with seals in the shape of a sounding board to a pulpit. And they walked with such a stir, striking their canes so hard upon the pavement, as to make the little town ring again. I defy all modern coxcombry to produce any thing like it. There was such a relish about it—and particularly when one of these weather-beaten gallants accosted a lady in the street, with a bow that required a whole side pavement to make it in, with the scrape of his foot, and his cane thrust with a flourish under his left arm till it projected behind, along with his cue, like the pallisades of a chevaux-de-frize; and nothing could be more piquant than the lady, as she reciprocated the salutation with a curtsey that seemed to carry her into the earth, with her chin bridled to her breast—and such a volume of dignity!”
VIEW OF THE EXCHANGE AND GIRARD’S BANK,
PHILADELPHIA.
The most accomplished architect of the United States, William Strickland, Esq., is a citizen of Philadelphia; and to his excellent taste is the city in a great measure indebted for its superiority over the other capitals of our country in the architecture of public buildings. The view seen in the drawing is taken from Third Street, in the business-part of the city, and presents the rear of the Exchange, a new structure by Mr. Strickland, and the façade of a much older building, a chaste and beautiful specimen of the Corinthian order, occupied many years by the United States Bank. It has since been appropriated to the uses of a bank, of which the entire capital was furnished by Stephen Girard, the wealthiest citizen of Philadelphia, lately deceased. The Exchange (of which a minute description is given in another part of the work) is a copy of the choragic monument at Athens, commonly called the Lantern of Demosthenes.
Philadelphia is, and ever has been, fortunate in her citizens; and it may be said with truth that there is not a metropolis in the world where the effects of a liberal and enterprising public spirit are so clearly manifest. This is particularly true of all that ministers to the comfort of the inhabitant—such as excellence of markets, abundance of water, cleanliness of streets, baths, public conveyances, &c. The wooden, or block pavement, common in Russia, is now under experiment in the principal street, and promises to add another to the luxuries of the city; and among the later instances of liberal and refined taste, is the purchase by the city of a beautiful estate on the banks of the Schuylkill, and its appropriation to the purposes of a cemetery. It occupies very high ground, of an uneven surface, plentifully shaded with venerable trees, and is already, perhaps, the most lovely burial-place in the world, after the Necropolis of Scutari.
Philadelphia is the favourite residence of foreigners among us; and though, in all its features, unlike foreign capitals, it possesses more than all other cities of the United States, the advantage of highly educated and refined society. I speak here of that which is constant and resident; as Washington, during the Session of Congress, and Boston, during one or two of the hot months, become in turn the focus of the foreign and floating society of the country. Perhaps the climate of Philadelphia may have had its effect in making it the home of those accustomed to the equable temperatures of the continent; for Boston, nine months of the year, is uninhabitable from its acrid winds and clammy cold; and Washington, on the other hand, is unhealthy during a considerable part of the summer. New York, though the metropolis of the country, is more a place of transit than residence, to those not engaged in its business or commerce—a result partly of the unhealthfulness of its water and the effluvia of its streets, but partly, too, of the unsettled and shifting character of its society.