Saddle horses and accoutrements--Banks--Granite--Church-
members--French mode of dressing--Quadroons--Gay scene and
groups in the streets--Sabbath evening--Duelling ground--An
extensive cotton-press--A literary germ--A mysterious
institution--Scenery in the suburbs--Convent--Catholic
education.
I intended in my last letter, to give you some account of an equestrian
excursion along the banks of the river, and of a visit to the new
Ursuline convent, two miles below the city; but a long digression about
hotels and bachelors brought me to the end of my letter before I could
even mention the subject. I will now fulfil my intention, in this
letter, which will probably be the last you will receive from me, dated
at New-Orleans.
Mounting our horses, at the door of the hotel, which were accoutred with
clinking curbs, flashing martingales, and high-pummelled Spanish
saddles, covered with blue broadcloth, the covering and housings being
of one piece, as is the fashion here, we proceeded by a circuitous route
to avoid the crowded front streets, toward the lower faubourg. In our
ride, we passed the banks of the city, most of which are in
Bienville-street or its vicinity. With but one exception, there is
nothing in their external appearance to distinguish them from the other
ordinary buildings, by which they are surrounded. The one referred to,
whose denomination I do not recollect, is decidedly one of the
handsomest structures in the south. It is lofty and extensive, with an
imposing front and handsome columns, and stuccoed, so as to resemble the
finest granite. And so perfect is the resemblance, that one can only
assure himself that it is a deception, by reflecting that this beautiful
material is used here little except in ornamental work; it being
imported in small quantities from a great distance, by water, and its
transportation being attended with too much expense to admit of its
general adoption, as a material for building. The episcopal and
presbyterian churches we also passed; both are plain buildings. Under
the latter, an infant school is kept, which has been but lately
organized, and is already very flourishing. It is under the care of
northerners, as are most schools in this place, which are not French.
Of the permanent population of this city--which does not exceed
fifty-one or two thousand, of whom thirty thousand are coloured--between
fifteen and sixteen thousand are Catholics, and nearly six thousand
Protestants; among whom are about seven hundred communicants. The
Catholic communicants number about six thousand and five hundred. There
are ten Protestant churches, over which preside but seven or eight
clergymen. Though the number of the former so much exceeds that of the
latter, there are in this city in all, but six churches and chapels of
the Catholic denomination, in which about twenty-five priests regularly
officiate. There is here but one church to every three thousand and two
hundred inhabitants, the estimate, for the most religious nations, being
a church and clergyman for about every one thousand of the population.
As we rode along, I was struck with the appearance of the peculiar dress
worn by the French inhabitants. The gentlemen, almost without exception,
wear pantaloons of blue cottonade, coarse and unsightly in its
appearance, but which many exquisites have recently taken a fancy to
adopt. Their coats are seldom well fashioned; narrow, low collars, large
flat buttons, hardly within hail of each other, and long, narrow skirts
being the _bon-ton_. Their hats are all oddly shaped, and between the
extremity of their pantaloons and their ill-shaped shoes, half a yard of
blue striped yarn stocking shocks the fastidious eye. The ladies dress
with taste, but it is French taste; with too much of the gew-gaw to
please the plain republican, and, "by the same token," correct taste of
a northerner. Many fine women, with brunette complexions, are to be seen
walking the streets with the air of donnas. They wear no bonnets, but as
a substitute, fasten a veil to the head; which, as they move, floats
gracefully around them. These are termed "quadroons," one quarter of
their blood being tinged with African. I have heard it remarked, that
some of the finest looking women in New-Orleans are "quadroons." I know
not how true this may be, but they certainly have large fine eyes, good
features, magnificent forms, and elegantly shaped feet.
If a stranger should feel disposed to judge, whether the British
watch-word, "Beauty and Booty," was based on a sufficient consideration,
let him promenade the streets at twilight, and he will be convinced of
the propriety of its first item. Then, windows, balconies, and doors,
are alive with bright eyes, glancing scarfs, gay, bonnetless girls,
playing children, and happy groups of every age. Street after street,
square after square, will still present to him the same delightful scene
of happy faces, and merry voices. The whole fair population seem to have
abandoned their houses for the open air. How the bachelors of
New-Orleans thread their way at sunset, through these brilliant groups
of dark, sparkling eyes, without being burned to a cinder, passeth my
comprehension. Every Sunday evening there is an extra turn out, when the
whole city may be found promenading the noble Levee. This is an
opportunity, which no stranger should omit, to observe the citizens
under a new aspect. A ramble through the various streets, a few
twilights successively, and a promenade on the Levee, on a Sabbath
evening, will bring all the fair Creoles of the city, in review before
him, and if that will not repay him for his trouble, let him go play
"dominos!"
In our ride, we passed the commercial library. Its collection is
valuable but not large. By the politeness of Monsieur D. I received a
card for admittance during my stay; and I have found it an agreeable
_oasis_ of rest, after rambling for hours about the city. Its advantages
in a place like this, where there are no circulating libraries, are very
great. Passing the rail-way, in the vicinity of which is the Gentilly
road, the famous duelling ground, we arrived at the "cotton press," a
short distance below, on the left, fronting the river. It is a very
extensive brick building with wings, having a yard in the rear, capable
of containing fifty thousand bales of cotton. There is a rail-way,
extending from the river to the press, on which the cotton is conveyed
from the steamers, passing under a lofty arched way through the centre
of the building, to the yard. All the cotton brought down the river, in
addition to its original compression by hand, as it is baled up on the
plantations, is again compressed by steam here, which diminishes the
bale cubically, nearly one third. A ship can consequently take many more
bales, than if the cotton were not thus compressed. There are, also, one
or two more steam cotton-presses in the upper part of the city, which I
have not had an opportunity of visiting. After passing this last
building we overtook a cart loaded with negroes, proceeding to the
country. To our inquiry, one of them answered,--while the others
exhibited ivory enough to sheathe a ship's bottom, "We Wirginny niggurs,
Massas: new massa, he juss buy us, and we be gwine to he plantation.
Plenty sugar dere, massa!" They all appeared contented and happy, and
highly elated at their sweet anticipations. Say not that the slavery of
the Louisiana negroes is a _bitter_ draught.
An old, plain, unassuming, and apparently deserted building, a little
retired from the road and half-hidden in shrubbery, next attracted our
attention. Over its front was a sign informing us that it was the
"Lyceum pour les jeunes gens." We could not learn whether it had teacher
or pupil, but from appearances we inferred that it was minus both. A
padre, in the awkward black gown peculiar to his order, which is seldom
laid aside out of doors, passed just at this time; and to our inquiries
respecting the lyceum, though framed, _me judice_, in very respectable
_lingua Franca_, he deigned us no other reply than a pleasant smile, and
a low-toned, sonorous "Benedicite." With others, we were equally
unsuccessful. One, of whom we inquired, and who appeared as though he
might find an amber-stone among a heap of pebbles, if he were previously
informed that it was the colour of whiskey--replied, "Why, I dont
cozactly know, stranngers, seeing I aint used to readin', overmuch, but
to my eye, it looks consarnedly like a tavern-sign."
"Why do you think so, my man?"
"Why, you see, I can't, somehow, make out the first part; but the last
word spells gin, as slick as a tallow whistle--I say, strannger, ye
haint got nothin o' no small-sized piccaiune about ye, have ye?"--We
threw our intelligent informant, who was no doubt some stray prodigal
son from old Kentuck or down east--though his ignorance of the art of
reading belied his country--the required fee for his information, and
continued our ride. We were now quite out of the city; the noble
Mississippi rolled proudly toward the sea on our right, its banks
unrelieved by a single vessel:--while on our left, embowered in
shrubbery, public and private buildings lined the road, which wound
pleasantly along the level borders of the river.
Shortly after leaving the Lyceum, we noticed on our left, at some
distance from the road, a large building, of more respectable appearance
and dimensions than the last. A sign here too informed us, whatever our
ingenious literary sign-reader might have rendered it, that _there_ was
the "College Washington." Our information respecting this institution
was in every respect as satisfactory as that which we had obtained
concerning the Lyceum. Not an individual urchin, or grave instructer,
was to be seen at the windows, or within the precincts. Its halls were
silent and deserted. I have made inquiries, since I returned, of old
residents, respecting it. No one knows any thing of it. Some may have
heard there was such a college. Some may even have seen the sign, in
passing: but the majority learned for the first time, from my inquiries,
that there was such an institution in existence. So we are all equally
wise respecting it. Passing beautiful cottages, partially hidden in
foliage, tasteful villas, and deserted mansions, alternately, our
attention was attracted by a pretty residence, far from the road, at the
extremity of an extensive grass-plat, void of shrub or any token of
horticultural taste. Had the grounds been ornamented, like all others
in the vicinity, with shrubbery, it would have been one of the loveliest
residences on the road; but, as it was, its aspect was dreary. We were
informed that it was the residence of the British consul; but he seems
to have left his national passion for ornamental gardening, shrubbery
walks, and park-like grounds, at home; denying himself their luxurious
shade and agreeable beauty, in a climate where, alone, they are really
necessary for comfort--where the cool covert of a thickly foliaged tree
is as great a luxury to a northerner, as a welling fountain in the
desert to the fainting Arab.
In a short ride from the residence of the consul, we arrived opposite to
the Ursuline convent, a very large and handsome two-story edifice, with
a high Spanish roof, heavy cornices, deep windows, half concealed by the
foliage of orange and lemon trees, and stuccoed, in imitation of rough
white marble. Three other buildings, of the same size, extended at the
rear of this main building, forming three sides of the court of the
convent, of which area this formed the fourth, each building fronting
within upon the court, as well as without. There are about seventy young
ladies pursuing a course of education here--some as boarders, and others
as day scholars. The boarders are kept very rigidly. They are permitted
to leave the convent, to visit friends in the city, if by permission of
parents, but once a month. None are allowed to see them, unless they
first obtain written permission, from the parents or guardians of the
young ladies.
As my friend had an errand at the convent, we called. Proceeding down a
long avenue to the portal on the right side of the grounds, we entered,
and applied our riding whips to the door for admission. We were
questioned by an unseen querist, as to our business there, as are all
visiters. The voice issued from a tin plate, perforated with innumerable
little holes, and resembling a colander fixed in the wall, on one side
of the entrance. If the visiters give a good account of themselves, and
can show good cause why they should speak with any of the young ladies,
they are told to open the door at the left; whereupon, they find
themselves in a long, dimly-lighted apartment, without any article of
furniture, except a backless form. Three sides of this room are like any
other--but, the fourth is open to the inner court, and latticed from the
ceiling to the floor, like a summer-house. Approaching the lattice, the
visiter, by placing his eye to the apertures, has a full view of the
interior, and the three inner fronts of the convent. A double cloister
extends above and below, and around the whole court; where the young
ladies may be seen walking, studying, or amusing themselves. She, for
whom the visiter has inquired, now approaches the grate demurely by the
side of one of the elderly ladies of the sisterhood; and the visiter,
placing his lips to an aperture, as to the mouth of a speaking trumpet,
must address her, and thus carry on his conversation; while the elder
nun stands within earshot, that peradventure she may thereby be edified.
The young ladies are here well and thoroughly educated;--even dancing
is not prohibited, and is taught by a professor from the city. The
religious exercises of the convent are of course Roman Catholic; but no
farther than the daily routine of formal religious services, are the
tenets of their faith inculcated upon the minds of the pupils. Some
Protestant young ladies, allured by the romantic and imposing character
of the Catholic religion, embrace it: but a few years after leaving the
convent, are generally sufficient to efface their new faith and bring
them back to the religion of their childhood. But the instances are very
rare in which a Protestant becomes a _religieuse_, or leaves the convent
a Catholic: though a great portion of the young ladies under the charge
of the Ursuline sisterhood are of Protestant parentage.
The remainder of our ride was past orange gardens and French villas, so
like all we had passed nearer the city, that they presented no variety;
after riding a mile below the convent, we turned our horses' heads back
to the city, and in less than an hour arrived at our hotel just in time
to sit down to one of Bishop's sumptuous dinners.