NEW YORK, FEBRUARY, 1788.

On the REGULARITY of the City of PHILADELPHIA.

"Well, how do you like Boston?" said an American to a Londoner, who had just arrived, and walked thro the town. "Extremely," replied the Englishman; "it resembles London in the crookedness and narrowness of the streets; I am always pleased with a careless irregularity and variety."

"How do you like Boston," says a nativ of the town to a Philadelphian. "I am much pleased with the people," replies the gentleman; "but the streets are so crooked, narrow and irregular, that I have good luck to find my way, and keep my stockings clean."

An Englishman and a Bostonian, walking together in Philadelphia, were heard to say, "how fatiguing it is to pass thro this town! such a sameness in the whole! no variety! when you have seen one street, you have seen the whole town!"

These remarks, which are heard every day, illustrate most strikingly the force of habit and tradition. The influence of habit is every where known and felt; any prepossessions therefore in favor of our nativ town, is not a matter of surprise. But that a traditionary remark or opinion should be handed from one generation to another, and lead nations into error, without a detection of its falsity, is a fact as astonishing as it is real. Such is the opinion of the writers on the fine arts; "that variety is pleasing;" an opinion embraced without exception, and applied promiscuously to the works of nature and of art. I have rarely met with a person, not an inhabitant of Philadelphia, who would not say he was disgusted with its regularity; and I am confident that the opinion must proceed from that common place remark, that variety is pleasing; otherwise men could not so unanimously condemn what constitutes its greatest beauty.

That in the productions of nature, variety constitutes a principal part of beauty, and a fruitful source of pleasure, will not be denied: But the beauty and agreeableness of works of art depend on another principle, viz. utility or convenience. The design of the work, or the end proposed by it, must be attentivly considered before we are qualified to judge of its beauty.

This kind of beauty is called by Lord Kaim,[60] relativ beauty. He observes very justly, that "intrinsic beauty is a perception of sense merely; for to perceive the beauty of a spreading oak, or of a flowing river, no more is required but singly an act of vision. Relativ beauty is accompanied with an act of understanding and reflection; for of a fine instrument or engine, we perceive not the relativ beauty, until we are made acquainted with its use and destination." A plow has not the least intrinsic beauty; but when we attend to its use, we are constrained to consider it as a beautiful instrument, and such a view of it furnishes us with agreeable sensations.

The single question therefore, with respect to a town or city, is this: Is it planned and constructed for the greatest possible convenience? If so, it is completely beautiful. If wide and regular streets are more useful and convenient than those that are narrow and crooked, then a city constructed upon a regular plan is the most beautiful, however uniform the streets in their directions and appearance.

I have often heard a comparison made between the level roads of Holland and the uniform streets of Philadelphia. A dull sameness is said to render both disagreeable. Yet if a person will attentivly consider the difference, I am persuaded he will be convinced that his taste is but half correct; that is, that a just remark with respect to a level open country, is improperly applied to a commercial city. Variety in the works of nature is pleasing; but never in the productions of art, unless in copies of nature, or when that variety does not interfere with utility. A level champaign country is rarely convenient or useful; on the other hand, it is generally more barren than a country diversified with hills and vales. There is not generally any advantage to be derived from a wide extended plain; the principle of utility, therefore does not oppose and supersede the taste for variety, and a tedious sameness is left to have its full effect upon the mind of a spectator. This is the fact with respect to the roads in Holland.

But it is otherwise in a city, which is built for the express purpose of accommodating men in business. We do not consider it as we do a landscape, an imitation of a natural scene, and designed to please the eye; but we attend to its uses in artificial society, and if it appears to be calculated for the convenience of all classes of citizens, the plan and construction must certainly be beautiful, and afford us agreeable sensations.

The regularly built towns in America are Philadelphia, Charleston, in South Carolina, and New Haven. All these may be esteemed beautiful, tho not perfectly so. Philadelphia wants a public square or place of resort for men of business, with a spacious building for an exchange. This should be near Market street, in the center of business. The gardens at the State House are too small for a public walk in that large city. The whole line of bank houses[61] is the effect of ill timed parsimony. The houses are inconvenient, and therefore not pleasing to the eye; at the same time they render Water street too narrow.

But whatever faults may be found in the construction or plan of the city, its general appearance is agreeable, and its regularity is its greatest beauty. Whenever I hear a person exclaim against the uniformity that pervades that city, I suppose him the dupe of a common place remark, or that he believes a city built merely to please the eye of a spectator.

Charleston is situated upon low ground; but just above high water mark. The soil is sand, which, with a scarcity of stone, has prevented the streets from being paved. The plan of the city is regular, but some of the streets are too narrow. As it is almost surrounded with water and low marshy ground, it was necessary to attend to every circumstance that should contribute to preserve a pure air. For this purpose, it was the original design of the citizens, to prevent any buildings from being erected on the wharves, in front of the town; thus leaving a principal street, called the bay, open to the sea breezes. Since the revolution, this design has been partially dispensed with; and some buildings erected on the water side of the bay, and particularly one in front of the Exchange, which stands at the head of Broad street, and commands an extensiv view of the town on one side, and of the harbor on the other. Should stores and warehouses be raised on the wharves, to such a height as to intercept a view of the harbor from the bay, they would diminish the beauty of the town, and in some degree prevent the agreeable effect of the cool breezes from the sea.

New Haven was laid out on a most beautiful plan, which has however suffered in the execution. The streets cross each other at right angles, as in Philadelphia; and divide the city into convenient squares. But in the center is a large public square, the sides of which are more than three hundred yards in length, and adorned with rows of trees. Thro the center of this square runs a line of elegant public buildings, viz. the state house, two churches and a school house. This square is a capital ornament to the town; but is liable to two exceptions. First, it is too large for the populousness of the city, which contains about 500 buildings. In so small a town, it must generally be empty, and consequently givs the town an appearance of solitude or dullness. In the second place, that half of the square which lies west of the public buildings, is occupied mostly by the church yard, which is enclosed with a circular fence. This reduces the public ground on the opposit side to a paralellogram, which is a less beautiful figure than a square; and annihilates the beauty of the western division which it occupies. Notwithstanding these circumstances, the green or public ground in the center of New Haven, renders it perhaps the most beautiful small settlement in America.