Confederation Day!
“Then, gentlemen,” Mayor B.E. Charlton declared, “we will see a power growing on this continent that shall rival in the new world the power of Russia in the old world.”
One hundred years ago, the editor of The Spectator sat down after an exhausting day of celebrations to write for his subscribers a fitting account of what he headlined as:
Confederation Day! The Celebration A SPLENDID DISPLAY
“ALMOST BEFORE DAYLIGHT yesterday” (it was now Tuesday, July 2, 1867) the editor wrote “the sound of firecrackers mingling with the music of the bells and the roar of the artillery announced dawning of the auspicious day which witnessed the accomplishment of that longdesired object — the union of the British American Colonies!
“And as ‘The smiling Morn which tips the hills with gold’ shone brightly on the gaily-decorated streets of Hamilton, it shone also on crowds of country people, all in their holiday attire, who flocked to our city to see the sights, and at the same time to testify to their feelings of gratitude and congratulations at the glorious result of the struggle of the last three years.
“Flags waved from almost every housetop — red, white, and blue bunting was stretched across from one side of the street to the other — laurels and evergreens clustered around the verandas and balconies, while from window and housetop and gallery, the fairest flowers of our city bloomed and blushed, NOT unseen, and added grace and beauty to the scene.”
(There must have been a pause for breath here and the editor searched his mind for more moving phrases. Or, perhaps he barked at the copy boy: “be sure he gets that NOT in caps.” It was either very late at night or very early in the morning that this feat of composition was taking place.)
Then, getting down to business, the writer called attention to the fact that one of the best banners extended from the office of Mr. Thomas White (the proprietor of the Spectator) to that of T. Mitchell. This “attracted much attention.” And well it might … On the top, it carried the message “First of July, 1867, May it never be obliterated!” On the one end, “Unity is Strength”, and on the other, “Success to Confederation”, and in the centre was the couplet. “All hail the happy mourn When the New Dominion was born.” Beneath all this was “Once United may we never be severed.” The account then passes to Christ’s Church Cathedral, where a large congregation gathered to “hallow by prayer and praise the day set apart by Royal Proclamation for public rejoicing.” The Rev. Dr. Neville read the prayers and the service was conducted by the Rev. J.G. Geddes, the rector of the parish. At this point, the editor reluctantly disclosed that he was compelled to withhold the full report of that occasion until the following day because of problems of space.
Then there was the great parade. It was headed by the Friendly Brothers Union, a society of coloured men “who looked exceedingly well, marching with admirable regularity and exactness,” and proving that the Hamiltonians who celebrated Confederation believed in brotherhood too.
FOLLOWING the Friendly Brothers were other organizations of all creeds and occupations, but there were a few unfortunate absentees.
In the parade were all the fire companies who looked “exceedingly neat and clean” and after them “the Royal Cadets, a body of juvenile soldiers armed with wooden guns.
“Then followed the school trustees in carriages. And after them, led by Mr. McCallum the Principal of the Central School, came about 400 of the children of that institution, who trudged along through the dust (the downtown merchants of Hamilton used to wail mournfully for more water sprinkling on the main streets in summer) in a most plucky manner possible, waving their Royal Standards and Union Jacks and entering into the affair in a thoroughly jovial and spirited manner.”
The Oddfellows came next, and the pipes of St. Andrews Society turned out but “we were sorry to see such a small force”, the writer observed.
But once again, the young women of Hamilton plainly tugged at the very heartstrings of the writer.
“WANZER and Company made a fine display. The car filled with young women employed in the establishment was (as might be expected) one of the prettiest features in the procession. The occupants were all dressed in light dresses and wore on their heads diadems on which were printed the names of all the British North American Provinces.”
There were many other floats to follow — The Canadian Oil Company, a wagon containing an ox surrounded by the city’s butchers, the iron moulders, the shoemakers, the bakers, and other trades. They all lined up in front of the platform where Mayor B.E. Charlton addressed them and moved an address of loyalty to the Queen. He looked ahead to the day when the Dominion would be made up not of but three confederated provinces only, but of the whole of British North America.
“Then, gentlemen,” his worship declared, “we will see a power growing on this continent that shall rival in the new world the power of Russia in the old world — a Russia in point of extent of resources and of influence but a Russia inhabited by people civilized, enlightened, educated, and free.”
After reading the declaration, he turned to Mr. Magill MPP to propose the adoption of the address, who then yielded to the man who was to deliver the oration of the day, A. Brown.
Public tastes were different in the days of Canada’s birth — on the stage, the measured eloquence of Edwin Booth and others of his generation filled hearers with awe. The baroque style with a classical touch was much admired. Also, Queen Victoria, although there were grumblings in England concerning her seclusion after the death of the Prince Consort, was regarded only with sympathy in Canada where her apparent neglect of public duties had not been noted.
The whole atmosphere of the day, shadows of 1837 having been dispelled, seemed one of bright confidence, on the surface at least, in people and institutions.
As for the Queen so warmly praised, she had, in her way, been good to Hamilton — didn’t she send her son, the devoted Edward, over to turn on the water when the first pumping station was opened more than a decade before?
But there may have been Scots among the audience who wondered why she did not do something for her Highland subjects when the crofters lost their homes.
AFTER ALL the cheering died away following Mr. Brown’s speech, there was a military display. Then a battalion lunch followed with toasts.
Then there was a Calithumpian Parade, in which people and races were burlesqued. And then came the horse races and an Indian foot race. The first race was won by John Peters of the Delawares.
As evening came on, some buildings were illuminated and perhaps some of the celebrants were too. At 9 p.m., the bonfires along the top of the mountain were started and then a display of fireworks began along King Street that continued until 11.
“They were exceedingly good,” the editor observed. “In fact, there was not a single misfire during the evening. They were made by Mr. James Palmer of Rochester and did him infinite credit. Mr. Farmer, who attended the display, is also entitled to praise for the manner in which he attended to his duties and for the knowledge he displayed of the pyrotechnic art.”
The band of the Great Western Railway played a selection of music “with good effect” and the account ended with the observation that “the birthday of our new Dominion will long be remembered in Hamilton, and we trust many happy returns of the day will be celebrated with equal loyalty and patriotism.”
And so the last firework fizzled out, Hamilton settled down again — settled down to start the first 100 years.