IX.

Sensations on seeing a city for the first time--Capt. Kidd

--Boston--Fresh feelings--An appreciated luxury--A human

medley--School for physiognomists--A morning scene in New-

Orleans--Canal-street--Levee--French and English stores--

Parisian and Louisianian pronunciation--Scenes in the market

--Shipping--A disguised rover--Mississippi fleets--Ohio

river arks--Slave laws.

I know of no sensation so truly delightful and exciting as that

experienced by a traveller, when he makes his _debut_ in a strange and

interesting city. These feelings have attended me before, in many other

and more beautiful places; but when I sallied out the morning after my

arrival, to survey this "Key of the Great Valley," I enjoyed them again

with almost as much zest, as when, a novice to cities and castellated

piles, I first gazed in silent wonder upon the immense dome which crowns

Beacon Hill, and lingered to survey with a fascinated eye the princely

edifices that surround it.

I shall ever remember, with the liveliest emotions, my first visit to

Boston--the first "CITY," (what a charm to a country lad in the

appellation) I had ever seen. It was a delightful summer's morning,

when, urged forward by a gentle wind, our little, green-painted,

coasting packet entered the magnificent harbour, which, broken and

diversified with its beautiful islands, lay outspread before us like a

chain of lakes sleeping among hills. With what romantic and youthful

associations did I then gaze upon the lonely sea-washed monument, as we

sailed rapidly by it, where the famous pirate, "Nick," murdered his

mate; and a little farther on, upon a pleasant green island, where the

bloody "Robert Kidd" buried treasures that no man could number, or

find!--With what patriotism, almost kindled into a religion, did I gaze

upon the noble heights of Dorchester as they lifted their twin summits

to the skies on our left, and upon the proud eminence far to the right,

where Warren expired and liberty was born!

I well remember with what wild enthusiasm I bounded on shore ere the

vessel had quite reached it, and with juvenile elasticity, ran, rather

than walked, up through the hurry and bustle that always attend Long

Wharf. With what veneration I looked upon the spot, in State-street,

where the first American blood was shed by British soldiers! With what

reverence I paced "Old Cornhill"--and with what deep respect I gazed

upon the venerable "Old South," the scene of many a revolutionary

incident! The site of the "Liberty Tree"--the "KING'S" Chapel,

where LIONEL LINCOLN was married--the wharf, from which the tea

was poured into the dock by the disguised citizens, and a hundred other

scenes and places of interesting associations were visited, and gave me

a pleasure that I fear can never so perfectly be felt again. For then,

my feelings were young, fresh and buoyant, and my curiosity, as in after

life, had never been glutted and satiated by the varieties and novelties

of our variegated world. Even the "cannon-ball" embedded in the tower of

Brattle-street church, was an object of curiosity; the building in which

Franklin worked when an apprentice, was not passed by, unvisited; and

the ancient residence of "Job Pray" was gazed upon with a kind of

superstitious reverence. I do not pretend to compare my present feelings

with those of that happy period. Although my curiosity may not be so

eager as then, it is full as persevering; and though I may not

experience the same lively gratification, in viewing strange and novel

scenes, that I felt in boyhood, I certainly do as much rational and

intellectual pleasure; and obtain more valuable and correct information

than I could possibly gain, were I still guided by the more volatile

curiosity of youth.

In spite of our fatigue of the preceding evening, and the luxury of a

soft, firm bed, wherein one could sleep without danger of being capsized

by a lee-lurch--a blessing we had not enjoyed for many a long and weary

night--we were up with the sun and prepared for a stroll about the city.

Our first place of destination was the market-house, a place which in

almost every commercial city is always worthy the early notice of a

stranger, as it is a kind of "House of Representatives" of the city to

which it belongs, where, during the morning, delegates from almost every

family are found studying the interests of their constituents by

judicious negotiations for comestibles. If the market at New-Orleans

represents that city, so truly does New-Orleans represent every other

city and nation upon earth. I know of none where is congregated so great

a variety of the human species, of every language and colour. Not only

natives of the well known European and Asiatic countries are here to be

met with, but occasionally Persians, Turks, Lascars, Maltese, Indian

sailors from South America and the Islands of the sea, Hottentots,

Laplanders, and, for aught I know to the contrary, Symmezonians.

Now should any philanthropic individual, anxious for the advancement of

the noble science of physiognomy, wish to survey the motley countenances

of these goodly personages, let him on some bright and sunny morning

bend his steps toward the market-house; for there, in all their variety

and shades of colouring they may be seen, and _heard_. If a painting

could affect the sense of hearing as well as that of sight, this market

multitude would afford the artist an inimitable original for the

representation upon his canvass of the "confusion of tongues."

As we sallied from our hotel to commence our first tour of sight seeing,

the vast city was just waking into life. Our sleepy servants were

opening the shutters, and up and down the street a hundred of their

drowsy brethren were at the same enlightening occupation. Black women,

with huge baskets of rusks, rolls and other appurtenances of the

breakfast table, were crying, in loud shrill French, their "stock in

trade," followed by milk-criers, and butter-criers and criers of every

thing but tears: for they all seemed as merry as the morning, saluting

each other gayly as they met, "Bo' shoo Mumdsal"--"Moshoo! adieu," &c.

&c., and shooting their rude shafts of African wit at each other with

much vivacity and humor.

We turned down Canal-street--the broadest in New-Orleans, and destined

to be the most magnificent. Its breadth I do not know, correctly, but it

is certainly one half wider than Broadway opposite the Park.--Through

its centre runs a double row of young trees, which, when they arrive at

maturity, will form the finest mall in the United States, unless the

_esplanade_--a beautiful mall at the south part of the city, should

excel it.

From the head of Canal-street we entered Levee-street, leaving the

custom house, a large, plain, yellow stuccoed building upon our right,

near which is a huge, dark coloured, unshapely pile of brick, originally

erected for a _Bethel church_ for seamen, but never finished, and seldom

occupied, except by itinerant showmen, with their wonders. Levee-street

had already begun to assume a bustling, commerce-like appearance. The

horse-drays were trundling rapidly by, sometimes four abreast, racing to

different parts of the Levee for their loads--and upon each was mounted

a ragged negro, who, as Jehu-like he drove along, standing upright and

unsupported, resembled "Phaeton in the suds"--rather than "Phaeton the

god-like."

The stores on our left were all open, and nearly every one of them, for

the first two squares, was occupied as a clothing or hat store, and kept

by Americans; that is to say, Anglo Americans as distinguished from the

Louisianian French, who very properly, and proudly too, assume the

national appellation, which we of the English tongue have so haughtily

arrogated to ourselves. As we approached the market, French stores began

to predominate, till one could readily imagine himself, aided by the

sound of the French language, French faces and French goods on all

sides, to be traversing a street in Havre or Marseilles. Though I do not

pretend to be a critical connoisseur in French, yet I could discover a

marked and striking difference between the language I heard spoken every

where and by all classes, in the streets, and the Parisian, or

trans-Atlantic French. The principal difference seems to be in their

method of contracting or clipping their words, and consequently varying,

more or less, the pronunciation of every termination susceptible of

change. The vowels _o_ and _e_ are more open, and the _a_ is flatter

than in the genuine French, and often loses altogether its emphatic

fulness; while _u_, corrupted from its difficult, but peculiarly soft

sound, is almost universally pronounced as full and plain as _oo_ in

moon. This difference is of course only in pronunciation; the same

literature, and consequently the same words and orthography, being

common both to the creole and European. The sun had already risen, when

I arrived, after a delightful walk, at the "marche."--This is a fine

building consisting of a long, lofty roof, supported by rows of columns

on every side. It is constructed of brick, and stuccoed; and, either by

intention or an effect of the humid atmosphere of this climate, is of a

dingy cream colour.

A broad passage runs through the whole length of the structure, each

side of which is lined with stalls, where some one, of no particular

colour, presides; and before every pillar, the shining face of a blackee

may be seen glistening from among his vegetables. As I moved on through

a dense mass of negroes, mulattoes, and non-descripts of every shade,

from "sunny hue to sooty," all balancing their baskets skilfully upon

their heads, my ears were assailed with sounds stranger and more

complicated than I ever imagined could be rung upon that marvellous

instrument the human tongue. The "langue des halles"--the true

"Billingsgate" was not only here perfected but improved upon; the gods

and goddesses of the London mart might even take lessons from these

daughters of Afric, who, enthroned upon a keg, or three-legged stool,

each morning hold their _levee_, and dispense their esculent blessings

to the famishing citizens. During the half hour I remained in the

market, I did not see one white person to fifty blacks. It appears that

here servants do all the marketing, and that gentlemen and ladies do

not, as in Boston, Philadelphia, and elsewhere, visit the market-places

themselves, and select their own provision for their tables. The

market-place in Philadelphia is quite a general resort and promenade for

early-rising gentlemen, and it is certainly well worth one's while to

visit it more than once, not only for the gratification of the palate

and the eye, by the inviting display of epicurean delicacies, but to

become more particularly acquainted with the general habits and manners

of the country people, who always constitute the greater portion of the

multitude at a market. Among them are individuals from every little

hamlet and village for ten or fifteen miles around the city, and by

studying these people, a tolerably good idea may be formed by a stranger

of the manners and customs of the inhabitants, (that is, the farming

class) of the vicinity.

But here, there is no temptation of the kind to induce one to visit the

market in the city more than once. He will see nothing to gratify the

spirit of inquiry or observation, in the ignorant, careless-hearted

slaves, whose character presents neither variety nor interest. However

well they may represent their brethren in the city and on the

neighbouring sugar plantations, they cannot be ranked among the class of

their fellow-beings denominated citizens, and consequently, are not to

be estimated by a stranger in judging of this community.

So far as regards the intrinsic importance of this market, it is

undoubtedly equal to any other in America. Vegetables and fruits of all

climates are displayed in bountiful profusion in the vegetable stalls,

while the beef and fish-market is abundantly supplied, though

necessarily without that endless variety to be found in Atlantic cities.

In front, upon the water, were double lines of market and fish-boats,

secured to the Levee, forming a small connecting link of the long chain

of shipping and steamboats that extend for a league in front of the

city. At the lower part of the town lie generally those ships, which

having their cargoes on board, have dropped down the river to await

their turn to be towed to sea. Fronting this station are no stores, but

several elegant private dwellings, constructed after the combined French

and Spanish style of architecture, almost embowered in dark, evergreen

foliage, and surrounded by parterres. The next station above, and

immediately adjoining this, is usually occupied by vessels, which, just

arrived, have not yet obtained a berth where they can discharge their

cargoes; though not unfrequently ships here discharge and receive their

freight, stretching along some distance up the Levee to the link of

market-boats just mentioned.

From the market to the vicinity of Bienville-street, lies an extensive

tier of shipping, often "six deep," discharging and receiving cargo, or

waiting for freight. The next link of the huge chain is usually occupied

by Spanish and French coasting vessels,--traders to Mexico, Texas,

Florida, &c. These are usually polaccas, schooners, and other small

craft--and particularly black, rakish craft, some of them are in

appearance. It would require but little exercise of the imagination,

while surveying these truculent looking clippers, to fancy any one of

them, clothed in canvass and bounding away upon the broad sea, the

"_Black flag_" flying aloft, the now gunless deck bristling with five

eighteens to a side; and her indolent, smoking, dark faced crew

exchanging their jack-knives for sabres and pistols. There was an

instance of recent occurrence, where a ship was boarded and plundered by

a well-armed and strongly manned schooner, in company with which, under

the peaceful guise of a merchantman she had been towed down the river

six days previous.

Next to this station (for as you will perceive, the whole Levee is

divided into _stations_ appropriated to peculiar classes of shipping,)

commences the range of steamboats, or steamers, as they are usually

termed here, rivaling in magnitude the extensive line of ships below.

The appearance of so large a collection of steamboats is truly novel,

and must always strike a stranger with peculiar interest.

The next station, though it presents a more humble appearance than the

others, is not the least interesting. Here are congregated the primitive

navies of Indiana, Ohio, and the adjoining states, manned (I have not

understood whether they are _officered_ or not) by "real

Kentucks"--"Buck eyes"--"Hooshers"--and "Snorters." There were about two

hundred of these craft without masts, consisting of "flat-boats," (which

resemble, only being much shorter, the "Down East" gundalow, (gondola)

so common on the rivers of Maine,) and "keel-boats," which are one

remove from the flat-boat, having some pretensions to a keel; they

somewhat resemble freighting canal-boats. Besides these are "arks,"

most appropriately named, their _contents_ having probably some

influence with their god-fathers in selecting an appellation, and other

non-descript-craft. These are filled with produce of all kinds, brought

from the "Upper country," (as the north western states are termed here)

by the very farmers themselves who have raised it;--also, horses,

cattle, hogs, poultry, mules, and every other thing raiseable and

saleable are piled into these huge flats, which an old farmer and half a

dozen Goliaths of sons can begin and complete in less than a week, from

the felling of the first tree to the driving of the last pin.

When one of these arks is completed, and "every beast that is good for

food" by sevens and scores, male and female, and every fowl of the air

by sevens and fifties, are entered into the ark,--then entereth in the

old man with his family by "males" only, and the boat is committed to

the current, and after the space of many days arriveth and resteth at

this Ararat of all "Up country" Noahs.

These boats, on arriving here, are taken to pieces and sold as lumber,

while their former owners with well-lined purses return home as deck

passengers on board steamboats. An immense quantity of whiskey from

Pittsburg and Cincinnati, besides, is brought down in these boats, and

not unfrequently, they are crowded with slaves for the southern market.

The late excellent laws relative to the introduction of slaves, however,

have checked, in a great measure, this traffic here, and the

Mississippi market at Natchez has consequently become inundated, by

having poured into it, in addition to its usual stock, the Louisianian

supply. I understand that the legislature of this rich and enterprising

state is about to pass a law similar to the one above mentioned, which

certainly will be incalculably to her advantage.

The line of flats may be considered the last link of the great chain of

shipping in front of New-Orleans, unless we consider as attached to it a

kind of dock adjoining, where ships and steamers often lie, either worn

out or undergoing repairs. From this place to the first station I have

mentioned, runs along the Levee, fronting the shipping, an uninterrupted

block of stores, (except where they are intersected by streets,) some of

which are lofty and elegant, while others are clumsy piles of French and

Spanish construction, browned and blackened by age.