The Opening Of The Fair, - Chapter 2, Page 1


FROM THE DEDICATION TO THE OPENING -
-AND THE NAVAL REVIEW

(As Related By Hubert Howe Bancroft in Chapter Six of "The Book Of The Fair" published by the Bancroft Company, 1893)

--- opening day on the grounds ---

BFirst and last cannon fired in the civil war.efore sunrise on the 21st the inhabitants of Chicago were awakened by the deep-voiced intonation of artillery, announcing the anniversary of the day when, four centuries ago, the great discoverer set foot on the shore of this western wilderness. An hour later a million of people were in the streets, two-thirds of whom were journeying toward the place of the Fair, or to the park adjacent, where was to be held such a military parade as was never witnessed on the shores of Michigan. By noon at least a quarter of a million souls were gathered within the Exposition grounds, and then it was that their extent was for the first time fairly tested. So far from any symptom of crowding or inconvenience, it appeared rather as a holiday gathering and with ample room to spare. On entering the gates, the first question asked by the visitors, on of another, was: "Where is the crowd?" But, as one of those aptly remarked, "You could put a million people here before the place would have a crowded look." Throngs there were at times on the broad avenues and esplanades, the wide bridges and spacious promenades; but at no hour of the day was there jostling or other discomfort, and never for an instant was there anything resembling a blockade. The Columbian guards, stationed here and there for the preservation of order, found themselves with nothing to do; for there was no disorder. Around some point where a landscape vista or a gem of constructive art arrested the attention, a crowd might linger for a moment; but then a polite remonstance was sufficient, and this uttered in such tones that the most captious could not take offense.
It was one of those bright October days, perhaps the most perfect weather witnessed in the city by the lake, and brightly shone the temples of the Fair in the mellow autumn sunlight, amid flutter of streamers and pennants from flagstaff, dome, and turret. The waterways were smooth and mirror-like and the greensward that arrayed their banks in robes of emerald contrasting with the sombre hues of the autumnal foliage. For the occasion the great hall of Manufactures had been converted into a vast auditorium, no pillar obstructing the view amid all its covered acres. The decorations were in excellent taste, and among them none attracted more attention than the banner of the Columbian Exposition, here for the first time displayed. In shape it was triangular, its field divided into blue and white, the colors of the lake and of the Exposition buildings. Its sides were fringed with green, gold, and buff, and near the staff, encircled by a laurel wreath, were four Cs wrought in Gothic capitals, the initials of the words Cyclos, Christopher, Columbus, and Chicago, the number of Cs representing the four hundredth anniversary of the event which the Fair commemorates.
Some two hours after noon the head of the procession, preceded by an escort of cavalry, entered the Exposition grounds. When, side by side, the vice-president of the United States and the president of the Columbian commission passed down the centre aisle, a cheer broke forth from a hundred thousand persons, such as perhaps had not been heard since Lincoln reviewed at Gettysburg, the army of the Potomac. An instant later the director-general touched an electric signal, and as with one grand burst of orchestral melody the opening strains of the Columbian march, swelled by a chorus of five thousand voices, rolled through the great auditorium, a hush fell on the multitude, stricken with amaze as though the huge dome had been shaken by the crash of thunder. A momentary silence greeted the final notes, silence even more impressive than the music itself; and then came a tumult of applause, stilled only by the outstretched hands of Bishop Fowler, by whom were offered the opening prayer and thanksgiving; but except for the orchestra and choruses, little that was said or sung on this occasion could be heard beyond a radius of a few hundred feet.
Taking advantage of the stillness that followed the conclusion of prayer, the director-general stepped forward and delivered the introductory address, then turned to Mayor Washburne, by whom were tendered to the assembled guests the city's welcome and hospitalities. Next on the programme was the reading of selected verses of the Commemoration ode, written by Miss Harriet Monroe, and read by Mrs. Sarah C. Le Moyne,a portion being set to music and rendered by the orchestra and chorus. By the chief of construction were introduced to the president of the Columbian Exposition its artificers, to each of whom was handed a medal,woodcut of designers medal the orchestra meanwhile rendering Mendelssohn's ode to "The Sons of Art." Then stepped forward the president of the Board of Lady Managers, by whom was explained their work, -the organization of women for mutual aid, the widening sphere of woman's usefulness, and the methods whereby that sphere may be enlarged. By the president of the Exposition the buildings were transferred to T. W. Palmer, president of the National Commission, who, turning to Vice-president Morton, at the conclusion of his address, asked that he dedicate the buildings and grounds in the name of the government of the United States. After the orchestra had rendered the hallelujah chorus of the "Messiah," the dedicatory oration was delivered by Henry Watterson. Then was sung "The Star Spangled Banner, after which the Columbian oration was delivered by Chauncey M. Depew. The ceremonies concluded with prayer by Cardinal Gibbons, the singing of Beethoven's "In Praise of God," and the benediction pronounced by the Reverend H. C. McCook. While the solemn words of the bessing still lingered on the ear, a momentary hush was broken by the crash of artillery, firing the national salute, and as the gray October twilight deepened into dusk, the audience slowly withdrew from a scene such as few among them had ever beheld, as few again shall ever behold. The following day was given to the dedication such of the state buildings as were completed, or in condition to permit the ceremony, and after a welcome Sabbath of rest, the people of Chicago returned to their usual avocations.

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