Chapter IV: The Philadelphia of Penn and Franklin

AS children resemble parents, so cities grow up in the likeness of their founders. The streets of Boston still follow the circuitous paths worn by the cows of the city’s Fathers to the pastures on the Common, and the marked regard for learning manifested by the early establishment of Harvard College is conceded to the Boston of to-day; likewise, are New York’s boasted Broadway and Wall Street, her extensive docks and shipping facilities, other than glorified Manhattan trading-posts of the Dutch and the English settlers. So, too, the city of Philadelphia, enveloped in an atmosphere of harmony and quiet, bears to the present day in the character of her buildings, her streets, and her citizens, the impress of the formative touch of her founders-Penn’s peace-loving English Quakers, who dreamed of a city of Brotherly Love in the far-off “woods of Penn;” and Benjamin Franklin, whose sound teachings in the form of “week-day sermons” (which will be recited in a subsequent chapter), and whose example of industry and thrift, were its corner stones.

Philadelphia was later than either Boston or New York in its inception, its site, before the city was definitely planned, having been settled by successive companies of the Dutch, the Swedes and the English. In the year 165 5, Peter Stuyvesant, with half a dozen vessels and 700 men, came over from New Amsterdam to subdue the Swedes in the Delaware Valley; both Dutch and Swedes, however, being soon afterward, through the territorial rights of the Duke of York, brought under English rule. Several years later, King Charles II, in lieu of claims which Admiral Penn owned against the crown, granted to his son, William Penn, the tract of land 150 by 300 miles in size which lies west of the Delaware River, and which Penn wished to call “Sylvania,” or Land of Woods, but the king added to it the name of Penn, in honor of his friend, the Admiral. Thereupon William Penn, in order to induoe settlers to cross the sea, offered such generous terms of payment for land that several vessels soon set sail, bringing hundreds of colonizers. This was in the year 1681.

Unlike Boston and New York and the immortal Topsy, however, Philadelphia did not “just grow ;” she was carefully planned, the site selected and the new city laid out with deliberate and painstaking forethought. “Of all the many places I have seen in the world,” wrote William Penn after his first visit to his infant city, “I remember not one better seated; so that it seems to me to have been appointed for a town, whether we regard the two rivers, or the conveniency of the coves, docks, springs, the loftiness and soundness of the land and the air." And Philadelphia is delightfully seated—in a well-chosen, wooded plot of ground in the spacious angle made by the junction of the Delaware and Schuylkill rivers, the harbor well adapted for shipping, the rivers natural roads for trade with the interior as well as an outlet to the sea, and the "soundness" of her climate a perpetual joy. The interesting view of young Philadelphia which the potters utilized for decoration of plates clearly defines the junction of the two rivers, the point of high land between them being filled with a massed group of square-built houses, their roofs topped with a lofty steeple.


Philadelphia's streets, unlike those of its northern cotemporaries, did not take their course from the wanderings of favored cows nor from the chance routes of public post-roads; they run where Penn planned them to run—straight and parallel, two miles in length from river to river, and fifty feet wide, with a broad street twice that width through their midst. Crossing these streets at right angles are others of the same width, leaving in the center an open plot of ten acres for the public buildings, the original design giving old Philadelphia much the appearance of a checker board. Penn also directed the naming of Philadelphia's streets, those running north and south bearing numbers, while those which run east and west—Chestnut, Walnut, Spruce, Pine, Buttonwood, etc.—". . . still reecho the names of the trees of the forest, as if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts they molested," and keep alive to the present time memories of the city's wooded infancy.

The original houses, a number of which still line the oldtime streets of the pioneer city, were erected with the same forethought that ordered the thoroughfares themselves, all of them being built of brick, chosen for its enduring quality, and after one design, three stories high with plain front to the street and a stoop— "brave brick houses" Penn called them, he himself bringing the London style of architecture into this wilderness of the West. Lafayette liked the old houses of Philadelphia, but with his usual keenness of observation and cultivation of taste, he remarked that their excessive regularity "might fatigue the eye." An interesting picture of the interior of one of the homes of early Philadelphia is afforded in a letter of Mrs. Benjamin Franklin to her husband in France written in the year 1765, in which she describes their new home just erected in Franklin Court. One learns from this letter facts not only of household economy, but also of imported luxuries of this early date. She says: "In the room downstairs is the sideboard, which is very handsome and plain, with two tables made to suit it and a dozen of chairs also. The chairs are plain horsehair, and look as well as Paduasoy, and are admired by all. The little south room I have papered, as the walls were much soiled. In this room is a carpet I bought cheap for its goodness, and nearly new. In the parlour is a Scotch carpet which has much fault found with it. Your time-piece stands in one corner, which is, as I am told, all wrong—but I say, we shall have all these as they should be, when you come home. If you could meet with a Turkey carpet, I should like it; but if not, I shall be very easy, for as to these things, I have become quite indifferent at this time. In the north room, where we sit, we have a small Scotch carpet, the small bookcase, brother John's picture, and one of the King and Queen. In the room for our friends we have the Earl of Bute hung up, and a glass. May I desire you to remember drinking glasses, and a large tablecloth or two; also a pair of silver canisters. The room we call yours has in it a desk,—the harmonica made like a desk —a large chest with all the writings, the boxes of glasses for the electricity, and all your clothes. The Blue Room has the harmonica and the harpsichord, the gilt sconce, a card table, a set of tea china, the worked chairs and screen, a handsome stand for the tea kettle, and the ornamental china."

At the time Philadelphia was the Capital of the nation, a picture of the city's formal life is afforded by the account of President Washington's levees held every two weeks in his home. Upon entering, the visitor was presented to the President, who was clad in black velvet, his hair powdered and gathered behind in a large silk bag. Yellow gloves were on his hands, and he held a cocked hat with a black cockade in it, the edges adorned with a black feather. He wore knee and shoe buckles, and a long sword.

With the exception of the Penn's Treaty scenes, which will be presented in a later chapter, the Philadelphia which the potters have commemorated is that of Franklin and his time, and comprises views of the Public Library, Pennsylvania Hospital, Deaf and Dumb Asylum, United States Bank, Masonic Temple, United States Hotel, one church edifice, scenes in Fairmount Park, including the Dam and Waterworks, together with occasional glimpses of street life. There are also sketches made in the suburbs of the city—country estates, bridges over streams, a primitive ferry, etc. Unlike the result of their search for the notable buildings of Boston and New York, the quest of the old-time artists fails to exhibit a view of Philadelphia's historic State House, or Independence Hall, within whose walls so much of vital importance to the Colonies and the young Republic was enacted, and wherein is preserved the piece of parchment which declares that the American colonies are "absolved from all allegiance to the British crown." The Independence Bell which rang out the first message of "Liberty throughout all the land, to all the inhabitants thereof," here likewise finds a permanent home.


Philadelphia owes her Public Library to Benjamin Franklin, the thousands of volumes which to-day fill the shelves of the building in Locust Street being the gradual outgrowth of three small cases of books which were assembled in Pewter Platter Alley by Franklin and his friends of the Junto Club. With characteristic forethought and wisdom, those gentlemen made a rule that the volumes might be read not only by any "civil gentleman" who cared to come there to do so, but also that they might be carried home "into the bosom of private families;" in this manner the system of circulating libraries had its inception. The citizens of Philadelphia contributed forty-five pounds to purchase new volumes for the library, the learned Board of Managers modestly sending the money to England without specifications as to choice, and receiving in return a good, though rather heavy, assortment. A more commodious apartment in the State House was then secured to house the books, and, after a time, Carpenters' Hall was leased, with a librarian in attendance twice a week. Here the volumes remained during the Revolutionary period, a solace to both the American and English officers. After independence was achieved, in the year 1789, the cornerstone of the first real home of the Philadelphia Library, the building illustrated upon the plate, was laid in Fifth Street, having been engraved with the following curious lines:

Be it remembered
In honour of the Philadelphia youth,
(Then chiefly artificers)
That in MDCCXXXI
They cheerfully,
At the instance of Benjamin Franklin
One of their number,
Instituted the Philadelphia Library;
Which though small at first,
It became highly valuable and extensively useful;
And which the walls of this edifice
Are now destined to contain and preserve.

In a niche over the doorway, Franklin himself stood guard—a curious statue, made in Italy of finest marble, draped in a Roman toga. Together with the books, the statue was removed in the year 1880 to the present Library Building in Locust Street, where it was given a place of honor over the new portal, the old corner stone also being preserved and reset in the new walls. A number of interesting relics of early Philadelphia find a home in this building, among them a bookcase and desk used by William Penn, and his clock, still keeping time; a clock once owned by Franklin is also there.

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 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.

These are the words of Benjamin Franklin which are engraved in the corner-stone of the Pennsylvania Hospital, an interesting view of which is presented in the platter illustration. The record of the "bounty of government and of private persons" which made possible this noble foundation is a pleasant one to read. In the year 1755, the citizens of Philadelphia in order to found the needed institution gave of their wealth, England as well contributing funds for the "relief of the sick and miserable." From London came also a gift to the Hospital, for medical work, of a human skeleton, a thing of such novel interest that admission was charged by the thrifty Friends to look upon it, a handsome sum being thereby added to the Hospital funds. Benjamin Franklin was a member of the first Board of Hospital Managers, later on, its president, and to his wisdom and judgment are due much of the success and prosperity of the institution. The building itself, which when erected was considered far out of town, was originally, as may be seen, a simple and substantial Colonial structure set in the midst of spacious grounds, shaded with spreading trees. One of the trees is of special interest as being the outgrowth of a sapling taken from the famous Treaty Elm, after its fall in the year 1810 upon the bank of the Delaware River. The gentleman in the foreground, with severely bent back, is evidently about to seek relief from his infirmity within the institution.

A building of unusual beauty for the time is the old Philadelphia Bank, the Bank of the United States as it was at first known, founded in the early days of independence, when Philadelphia was the center of the national life of the infant republic. The Bank of the United States was the first building in the severe Quaker City to be lavishly adorned, a stately white marble portico with tall Corinthian columns and pilasters of the same order being the principal features of its front. This bank was the parent institution of the country, the main office from which branches extended to other parts of the Union. At the time the present sketch of it was executed, the bank was the property of Stephen Girard, a wealthy Philadelphia citizen, and its name had been changed to the Girard Bank. The old houses by the side of the bank, the oddly shaped wagon and the pile of wood upon the pavement are interesting details of this illustration.

The taverns of old Philadelphia, like those of contemporary cities, reflected in their names and signs something of the characteristic quality of their frequenters. The "Crooked Billet Inn" was a public house which stood on the wharf at Water Street, and had the distinction of being the first house entered in Philadelphia, in 1723, by the young Benjamin Franklin, upon his arrival in the city. The "Pewter Platter Inn," with its sign a large pewter platter, became so famous that it gave its name to the alley at the corner of which it stood, obliterating that of "Jones." The "Bull's Head Tavern," with its sign of a bull's head, was so named from the fact of a bull thrusting his head through a window, the proprietor remarking that the fact and the sign might draw trade. There was the "Indian Queen," the "St. George and the Dragon," the "Cross Keys," the "Blue Lion," and, last but not least interesting, "The Man Loaded with Mischief," the sign portraying a man carrying his wife upon his back, an inn which stood in Spruce Street. Signpainting was originally included among the finer arts, and it is related of Benjamin West that he did not disdain to put his talent to this form of work, a tavern sign done by him being considered of extreme merit. It represented upon one side in bright colors a man sitting on a bale holding up a glass of liquor as if looking through it; the other side showed two brewer's porters carrying a cask of beer slung with can hooks to a pole, which was the way beer was then carried out.

One famous old Philadelphia inn is recorded in the pottery records, the United States Hotel, the excellent view of it being framed in an exquisite border of trees and foliage. This place is memorable for the fashionable "Assemblies" which at one time carried on their festivities within its walls. Old chronicles relate that as early as the year 1749, and continuing through the years when Philadelphia was the nation's capital, with the exception of the period of the Revolution, to quite recent years, the Assemblies were a prominent feature of the amusement season. Upon every Thursday evening throughout the winter, the fashionable folk gathered at the United States Hotel, arriving precisely at six o'clock. The ladies who came first had places assigned to them in the first set of the dance, later comers being distributed throughout the other sets, the cotillion, minuet, reels and the newly-introduced waltz being the forms of dancing then in vogue. Card games were also indulged in at these Assemblies, the two forms of amusement—dancing and card playing, being looked upon by the Quakers with kindlier eyes than performances at the theater. Supper was of the lightest order, chiefly being, we read, "something to drink," and by twelve o'clock the entire company were wending their way homeward through the quiet streets. Cards of admission to these functions, as well as the fashionable visiting cards of the day, were playing cards, no blank cards being brought to the colonies and nothing but playing cards imported for sale. The invitation, or the name and address, were written or printed upon the blank side of the card, the back presenting, as might chance, the effigy of the King of Hearts or the Queen of Clubs. The United States Hotel witnessed also scenes other than those of gayety. Upon a June morning of '75, a breathless messenger alighted before its door bringing the startling news that the first shot of war had been fired at Lexington; in the year '77, Lord Howe and his English soldiers being quartered upon the city of Philadelphia, and Washington and his army at Valley Forge, the weekly balls at the United States Hotel were a prominent feature of that "rollicking winter"; and upon an October morning of '81, another messenger arrived, bringing the word that Yorktown and Cornwallis had surrendered.

A sketch of but one of the many houses of worship of early Philadelphia was transferred to English pottery, that of Staughton's Church. The illustration exhibits a low built structure whose dome-shaped roof and thickly proportioned columns set between piers, in striking contrast to the tall spires and rectangular proportions which are the distinctive qualities of the early Boston and New York edifices, call to mind the Pantheon at Rome and present an excellent example of the classic influence which was beginning to make itself evident in American ecclesiastical architecture early in the nineteenth century. Staughton's church stood on Sampson Street, between 8th and 9th streets, and was erected in the year 1811, for the Rev. William Staughton, a Baptist clergyman of such strong personality that the edifice for many years retained his name. The rotunda was capable of seating 2500 people.

Fairmount Park, or Faire Mount, as it was originally called, is a picturesque tract of land bordering the Schuylkill River above the city, and has always been, as it is now, a favorite resort of Philadelphia citizens. William Penn fancied the locality, and had the intention of building himself a home there, writing in 1701 to a friend, "My eye is upon Faire Mount." The platedecorations of Fairmount, one of them framed in the eagle and scroll border of the potter Stubbs and the others in the handsome wreath of mingled fruit and flowers, show a rolling expanse of country on the edge of the river, with two of the country homes of Philadelphians situated upon the opposite shore. The Schuylkill River at this point became the source of the city's supply of water. Philadelphia's first water supply came from the use of pumps, and not until after an epidemic of yellow fever, in 1793, was the project of the introduction of river water seriously broached, many of the citizens being reluctant to give up the ice-cold water from their wells for the tepid waters of the Schuylkill. Benjamin Franklin, the city's great and versatile benefactor, early foresaw the need of a fresh supply of water for the city and recommended the Wissahickon Creek, the volume of which was proved inadequate. In the year 1813, river-water was made available, and in the following year there were nearly 3000 dwellings receiving the water from the Schuylkill at Fairmount; and when, in 1818, a steam engine was set in operation at the plant, the number rapidly increased.

After the construction of the Dam and the Power House for pumping water into a reservoir, these were the chief attractions of Fairmount, making of it a popular resort, the "glory of Philadelphia, combining beauty of scenery, usefulness of purpose and magnitude of design." The Philadelphia Dam and Waterworks are the subject of two old china decorations, one view with a side-wheel steamboat upon the water being here given; the other view, with a stern-wheel vessel in the foreground, is presented in the chapter upon Early Modes of Travel. In both illustrations, the dam across the river, the artificial fall of water and the pump-house may be seen, the last named being a white stone structure in the Doric style of architecture, the wings occupied by the offices of the company. The Waterworks were much frequented by Philadelphians, who drove out to spend a Sunday afternoon, bringing the children to play upon the grassy slopes, and every stranger in the city felt his visit incomplete without an excursion to Fairmount on the Schuylkill to examine the far-heralded plant. Lafayette was deeply impressed with the machinery at Fairmount, which was explained to him, remarking in his polite French way that he looked upon the Philadelphia Waterworks as a model of the American Government, "in which are found at once simplicity, economy and power." The city receiving-fountain of the Fairmount Waterworks was situated in Center Square, and, as may be seen in the print, was an ornamental structure of marble, its circular, dome-shaped upper story giving it the popular appellation of "pepper-box."

A number of interesting views of the suburbs about Philadelphia served as decorations for rich blue dinner sets. Owing to its mild and delightful climate and the country-loving inclinations of its citizens, suburban life became more of a feature of Philadelphia than of either Boston or New York, and many of the surrounding hills were dotted with handsome country homes. Glimpses of some of these homes may be had in the background of several of the sketches which have been reproduced, and one or two separate estates form the subject of an entire decoration,—"Woodlands," for example, on the bank of the Schuylkill River, which was noted for its beautiful gardens. In Colonial times there were few bridges over the rivers, fording and ferrying being the usual modes of crossing. Pennsylvania, however, was an exception, and the bridges which were constructed over the many streams in the State became so numerous that Pennsylvania received the title of "the state of bridges." Several of these structures were very elaborate and expensive and enjoyed a fame beyond their immediate locality. Such was the "Upper Ferry Bridge" over the Schuylkill River, a view of which is afforded in the beautiful platter decoration. In this illustration may be seen one of the covered type of bridge which has now almost entirely disappeared from the country roads of America. It was erected in the year 1813, and was remarkable for its single arch of a span of 328 feet. At the right hand entrance to the bridge stands the once-famed Harding Tavern, while in the foreground may be seen an old-time covered Pennsylvania wagon drawn by six horses—both bridge and wagon being valuable records of early America.

Another country scene typical of suburban Philadelphia is that entitled, "Mendenhall Ferry," which illustrates a common mode of river-crossing in the early days —a rope ferry over the Schuylkill River a short distance above the city. The country homes of Joseph Sims and of Dr. Philip Syng Physick, the most celebrated surgeon of his time and known as "the father of American surgery," may be seen upon the hillsides in the background, while Mendenhall Inn, long a favorite resort of Philadelphians, occupies the left of the design.

(From The Blue-China Book by Ada Walker Camehl, 1916.)