The First Panorama of Toronto

Every aspect of the story behind the series of photographs that make up the 1857 Panorama unravels an intriguing thread. From the three Irish man who photographed them (and then went on to the frontlines of British colonization) to the building from whose roof they was photographed, to the very reason they were taken in the first place.

I came across these photographs while searching the Archives of Toronto for panoramic views of the city. I wanted to find images of landscapes that no longer exist and to overlay them over the current view. This was how I discovered the very first photographs of Toronto, taken in 1857, were actually a panorama. They were commissioned by the city from a newly-formed photography firm called Armstrong, Beere & Hime as part of a bid by the city’s government to the British crown to make Toronto the capital of what would become Canada. Other cities, such as Kingston, Ottawa, Quebec City and Montreal also submitted bids but none had impressive photographs to accompany the documents they sent to Queen Victoria. For unknown reasons, she never actually got to see the panorama, which some speculate contributed to her decision to choose Ottawa instead of Toronto. More than 120 years after it was photographed, the panorama was accidentally found by archivist Joan Schwartz in 1979. After the images were “discovered,” England officially gifted them back to Toronto on its sesquicentennial anniversary.

The three men behind Armstrong, Beere & Hime were all born in Ireland but neither died there. After immigrating to what would become Canada and briefly working together, they went their separate ways. One joined his brother who was heading a white militia in New Zealand. Sponsored by the British crown, the soldiers were promised land in exchange for expelling and fighting off the indigenous Maori. Along with helping his brother fight, Beere took impressive photographs that can be seen on the site of the New Zealand public library.

Meanwhile, Hime joined a Canadian expansionist movement and along with a University of Toronto geology professor named Henry Youle Hind, set off on an expedition in 1858. Its purpose was to prove that colonizing Canada westward was possible. It was on this expedition that Hime would take the photographs that would inscribe his name in Canadian history. You can read more about him in the Canadian Encyclopedia.

The third, William Armstrong, joined a different colonial mission - the Wolseley expedition - a military force authorized by Sir John A. Macdonald to confront and subdue the Red River Rebellion of Louis Riel and the Métis in 1870 which also helped settle the Red River Colony in what is now Manitoba. He then returned to Toronto and became a teacher of what can be best described as mediocre landscape paintings. He died in his home on Augusta Street, in Kensington Market.

But back to the winter of 1857. As the architectural historian William Dendy wrote in his 1979 book Lost Toronto, in January or February, the three men dragged their photography equipment up to the roof of the yet-to-be finished Rossin House Hotel, which at the time was effectively the tallest building in Toronto (at a whopping six floors). On its roof, over a course of a few days, the men took a series of photographs, with each one panning their camera slightly to the right to make a nearly full 360 view of Toronto, as it looked in the middle of the 19th century.

A few months later, the upscale Rossin House Hotel opened its doors but five years after burned to a crisp in the infamous fire of 1862 that left much of the city in ruins. As I was digging through the Toronto City Archives I came across a number of such devastating fires, and was shocked at the extent of the destruction. Though the hotel was rebuilt and reopened, it slowly fell from first place on the city’s list of luxurious “palace hotels” and was demolished in 1969. You can still see the hideous skyscraper that replaced it on the southeast corner of York and King Streets. If you were to go up to the floor just above the lobby (the equivalent of the roof of the Rossin House Hotel) you can see the panorama, as photographed by Armstrong, Beere & Hime and discover how much the city changed since 1857.

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/96/Armstrong_Beere_%26_Hime_panorama_of_Toronto_1856.JPG

The Toronto panorama of 1856 might just be one of the coolest things I've come across during my digging through archival photos of Toronto. In fact, it's one of those things that I'm surprised I hadn't stumbled across before. As I was trying to determine whether or not there was enough compelling material to extend our series of historical photo posts on Toronto, I noticed that the Wikimedia Commons was particularly loaded with material from the year 1856 in what was otherwise a pretty sparse decade for their holdings.

Lo and behold the reason for the preponderance of images is that 13 of them are related to one another. Shot by the photography firm Armstrong, Beere and Hime on the roof of the Rossin Hotel at York and King streets, the series of images doesn't quite form a seamless panorama, but given the technical limitations, the near 360 degree view of the old city is still remarkable.

What's also remarkable is that I could forget that I already knew about this panorama, too. Only yesterday was I fumbling through my bookshelves looking for a copy of Michael Redhill's novel Consolation. I wanted to give it a re-read in light of the fact that I've been doing so much with old photographs of late. Somehow, however, I didn't make the connection that Redhill's novel was in fact inspired by this very set of photographs that I had come across.

I suppose one of the reasons for my being so obtuse is simply that the novel -- or at least the copy that I have -- doesn't include the images themselves. This is actually quite a shame, as they're referred to a number of times, and, as I said, rather remarkable for their time.

https://www.blogto.com/city/2012/02/a_brief_history_of_the_rossin_house_hotel/

In the 1850s, despite two brief terms as capital of the Province of Canada, the fledgling town of York was really just a collection of medium-sized businesses and homes with big ambitions. What many felt the community lacked at this stage in its development was a first class, luxury hotel to cater for visitors with money to spare.

Often described as "palace hotels", most North American cities had at least one well appointed, oppulant accommodation decked out with the latest comforts. At the time, the Sword's Hotel and American Hotel on Front Street were the most popular choice for visitors with the money to be looked after.

In February 1855, Charles and Marcus Rossin, successful jewellers and land speculators, bought a plot of land on the southeast corner of King and York with plans to build a truly palatial hotel worthy of the town's up and coming status.

When York's official surveyor and engineer, John George Howard, declined to design the building the Rossins held a competition to find a stylish look for their new business. Open to American and Canadian architects, designs were submitted from as far away as New York and Baltimore but the winning entry came from Buffalo and a Mr. Otis.

Rossin House Hotel Advert Opening

Started during a building boom, construction began slowly on the Rossin House Hotel due to a lack of builders in the city. By the time shovels broke ground a new designer, William Kauffman of Rochester, had taken over the project and added many fire safety features to the plans. Kauffman had included cast iron exterior details and a special load bearing system to the building when the hotel was completed and opened in May 1857.

Built to include an interior courtyard with lush gardens and a babbling fountain, the hotel's main rooms with tall windows and nineteen-foot ceilings were on the second floor above the stores facing King and York streets. Several deluxe suites and drawing rooms were also included in the floor plan for society's crème de la crème to entertain.

All guests of the Rossin House Hotel, deluxe suite or otherwise, could expect to sleep in well-ventilated, heated comfort with access to both hot and cold water (it's amazing what constituted luxury back in the day). In the dining room, thanks to a surviving menu, we know hearty staples like cold tongue, corned beef, ham and mutton were on offer alongside more exotic dishes like "Oyster Patties-French Style" and "Veal Currie-East India Style."

The wine and spirit list boasted pricey bottles of Moët & Chandon Green Seal and Roederer's Carte Blanche for guests prepared to splash the cash.

Rossin House Hotel Postcard Interior

Prior to its completion, the hotel, one of the tallest in York, was used to take the first panoramic photograph of the city. The low-rise, residential community in the pictures is practically unrecognisable as Toronto save for the presence of Osgoode and St. Lawrence Halls. For this reason the series, taken by Armstrong, Beere and Hime, provides one of the best glimpses at our humble beginnings and is available in its entirety in the City of Toronto Archives.

In November 1862, just five years after the hotel's grand opening, William Kauffman's fire safety additions paid dividends when the building was completely gutted, leaving only the exterior walls standing. All but one of the guests and staff managed to escape the building safely, a testimony to the multitude of stairways and dedicated cold water supply for firefighters available on the site.

With the Rossin House a smouldering wreck, the Rossins abandoned their hotel business and ownership of the site fell to James G. Chewett who embarked on a slow rebuilding process through 1863 and 1864. William Kauffman, who was retained as the designer, made very few changes to his original plans and the restored hotel opened again on the 1st August, 1867.

Rossin House Hotel Engraving Burning Fire

Over the next sixty years the Rossin House gradually lost its appeal as a luxury destination, slowly falling behind the times in terms of features compared to the newer Royal York and King Edward hotels.

In the early 1900s the Rossin House was sold and renamed the Prince George. It saw various uses until it was demolished in 1969. Were it still standing today, the Rossin House would be on the site of the Standard Life Centre opposite Exchange Tower.

Toronto’s Bid to Be the Capital of Canada

Following the Act of Union of 1840, which amalgamated Upper Canada and Lower Canada into the Province of Canada, there was intense rivalry among elected officials concerning the location of the seat of government. The new Parliament was held in Kingston from 1841-1843. It was then held in Montreal until it was moved to Toronto in 1849.

In 1851 the government decided on a system known as “perambulation” where the location of Parliament rotated every four years between Toronto and Quebec City. Finally, on April 17, 1856, the legislature chose Quebec City as the permanent seat of government by a vote of 64 to 56, a result that left many members of Parliament unhappy.

In 1857 Parliament asked Queen Victoria to resolve the issue and make a choice. Toronto, Kingston, Ottawa, Montreal and Quebec City were each asked to submit arguments in favour of its selection as the permanent seat of government to the Secretary of State for the Colonies in London, England. Some of the records documenting Toronto’s bid are held at the City of Toronto Archives.

In early July the City sent its report to the Secretary of State for the Colonies, outlining the reasons “upon which Toronto bases her claims to becoming the permanent Seat of Government for the Province of Canada.”

The report included visual materials to illustrate Toronto’s charms and to increase its chances of being chosen. The record shows that the City commissioned a series of photographs of Toronto streets and buildings by the firm of Armstrong, Beere and Hime, “Land Agents, Engineers and Photographists”.

While 100 photographs were purchased, Armstrong, Beere and Hime did not take 100 individual views. Rather, they produced four sets of twenty-five prints. One of the original sets is held in the collection of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office Library (formerly the Colonial Office Library) in London, England. Another original set is now held by the Library and Archives Canada, Ottawa. The latter acquired its set from private sources in 1992. The location of the other two sets remains a mystery.

https://www.toronto.ca/city-government/accountability-operations-customer-service/access-city-information-or-records/city-of-toronto-archives/whats-online/web-exhibits/the-earliest-known-photographs-of-toronto/torontos-bid-to-be-the-capital-of-canada/

William Armstrong (1822-1914) was born in Dublin, Ireland. He studied art before moving to England where he trained in engineering through an apprenticeship with the Midland Railway. In 1851 he immigrated to Toronto and put his engineering and drawing skills to work as an employee of the Grand Trunk and the Northern railways. While working for the railway companies he produced a series of watercolour paintings of railway bridges, and although it is not known where he learned photography he steadily earned a reputation in Toronto as a photographer as well as a painter.

In 1855 William Armstrong left the railway and started the civil engineering and photography firm Armstrong and Beere in partnership with his nephew Daniel Manders Beere (1833-1909). Two years later Humphrey Lloyd Hime (1833-1903) joined the company, which became Armstrong, Beere and Hime. Their work met with immediate acclaim and in their first year together they took first and second prize for the best collection of uncoloured photographs, and second prize in the coloured category at the Twelfth Annual Exhibition of the Provincial Agricultural Association at Brantford.

H.L. Hime temporarily left the company in 1858 to accept employment as the official photographer to the Assiniboine and Saskatchewan exploring expedition led by Henry Youle Hind, and his contribution to Canadian photography rests substantially with the superb photographs he produced while on this expedition. Hime returned to Toronto and resumed working at Armstrong, Beere and Hime until 1861 when the company went out of business and he began a career in finance.

D.M. Beere moved to New Zealand in 1863 where he was employed as a surveyor with the Auckland Provincial Government. He continued to take photographs and produced an impressive series of pictures documenting the Waikato Militia, of which he was a member.

William Armstrong gained considerable recognition as a watercolour painter, and in 1871 he began a career as an art instructor at the Toronto Normal School. Armstrong retired in 1897 but continued teaching art from his home on Augusta Avenue until he died at the age of ninety-three.

“There is a vast part of this city with mouths buried in it . . . . Mouths capable of speaking to us. But we stop them up with concrete and build over them and whatever it is they wanted to say gets whispered down empty alleys and turns into wind. . . .”

These are among the last words of Professor David Hollis before he throws himself off a ferry into the frigid waters of Lake Ontario. A renowned professor of “forensic geology,” David leaves in his wake both a historical mystery and an academic scandal. He postulated that on the site where a sports arena is about to be built lie the ruins of a Victorian boat containing an extraordinary treasure: a strongbox full of hundreds of never-seen photographs of early Toronto, a priceless record of a lost city. His colleagues, however, are convinced that he faked his research materials.

Determined to vindicate him, his widow, Marianne, sets up camp in a hotel overlooking the construction site, watching and waiting for the boat to be unearthed. The only person to share her vigil is John Lewis, fiancé to her daughter, Bridget. An orphan who had come to love David as his own father, John finds himself caught in a struggle between mother and daughter–all the while keeping a dark secret from both women.

Interwoven into the contemporary story is another narrative set in 1850s: the tale of Jem Hallam, a young apothecary struggling to make a living in the harsh new city so he can bring his wife and daughters from England. Crushed by ruthless competitors, he develops an unlikely friendship with two other down-on-their-luck Torontonians: Samuel Ennis, a brilliant but dissolute Irishman, and Claudia Rowe, a destitute widow. Together they establish a photography business and set out to create images of a fledgling city where wooden sidewalks are put together with penny nails, where Indians spear salmon at the river mouth and the occasional bear ambles down King Street, where department stores display international wares and fine mansions sit cheek-by-jowl with shantytowns.

Consolation moves back and forth between David Hollis’s legacy and Jem Hallam’s struggle to survive, ultimately revealing a mysterious connection between the two narratives. Exquisitely crafted and masterfully written, Michael Redhill’s superlative book reveals how history is often transformed into a species of fantasy, and how time alters the contours of even the things we hold most certain. As complex and layered as the city whose story it tells, Consolation evokes the mysteries of love and memory, and what suffering the absence of the beloved truly means.

When the Province of Canada was formed in 1840 by the Act of Union, the fledgling country did not have a permanent seat of government. Several cities, including Toronto, provided a temporary home for the parliament. There were obvious advantages in being the capital of Canada and competition to win this prize was fierce. The issue came to a head in 1857 when Toronto, Montreal, Kingston, Quebec City and Ottawa each submitted a report to the Colonial Office stating why it should be chosen as the capital.

As part of its report, the City of Toronto included a set of photographs championing the advantages of its streets, buildings and its physical situation on Lake Ontario. These photographs are the earliest known images taken in Toronto. They give us a fascinating glimpse into our past, clearly showing the street grid that still exists, but also showing how much has changed. These photos proved to be an inspiration for author Michael Redhill when he wrote his book Consolation, which won the Toronto Book Award in 2007.

The Toronto Public Library chose Consolation to be its “One Book” for February 2008. The aim is to have everyone in Toronto reading, enjoying and discussing the same book at the same time. We think that you will enjoy Consolation even more if you know the “archival” story behind the story. This exhibit will inform you about Toronto’s bid to be Canada’s capital, show you the photographs, and tell you about the photographers who actually took the pictures.

https://www.toronto.ca/city-government/accountability-operations-customer-service/access-city-information-or-records/city-of-toronto-archives/whats-online/web-exhibits/the-earliest-known-photographs-of-toronto/

What happened to the photographs taken by Armstrong, Beere and Hime to accompany the report sent to the Secretary of State for the Colonies in England? If Queen Victoria had actually seen the photographs and the maps, along with the report from Toronto Council, one wonders if Ottawa still would have been chosen over Toronto to be Canada’s capital!

It is not known exactly what happened to the failed bid materials. However, at some point in time, one set of the twenty-five photographs was deposited in the Colonial Office Library, now the Library of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office and Records Department in London, England. Meanwhile, memories of the unsuccessful bid faded and the photographs became as good as lost since no one in Canada remembered them.

The photographs remained forgotten until October 9, 1979, when an archivist from the National Archives of Canada (now Library and Archives Canada) decided to do some research in the Foreign and Commonwealth Office Library. Joan Schwartz, who now teaches history of photography at Queen’s University, “discovered” the photographs quite by chance that day while searching for an album of photographs of gold-rush British Columbia.

She was familiar with the work of Armstrong, Beere and Hime and, remembering the invoice for “100 photographs”, realized that what the City had in fact purchased was four sets of twenty-five prints. The rest is history. The Foreign Office loaned the original photographs to Toronto in 1984, when they were shown in an exhibit called Toronto in the Camera at the Market Gallery. Subsequently, the Foreign Office presented a very fine set of copies as a sesquicentennial gift to the City of Toronto and these copies are now in the collection of the City of Toronto Archives.

Interestingly, when Michael Redhill was doing his research for Consolation he was unaware that the City of Toronto Archives had copies of the Armstrong, Beere and Hime photographs or that a set of original prints was held in Ottawa. He made a special trip to look at the original photographs in the Foreign and Commonwealth Office Library in London.

Those of you who read Consolation as part of the One Book event sponsored by the Toronto Public Library, however, will not have to travel to London, England to see the pictures. You may see them in the same city in which they were taken! The photographs are on display in the atrium of the Archives.

https://www.toronto.ca/city-government/accountability-operations-customer-service/access-city-information-or-records/city-of-toronto-archives/whats-online/web-exhibits/the-earliest-known-photographs-of-toronto/hiding-in-plain-sight/