To give the reader a correct idea of the city of New Orleans, and the
great curse to which it will ever be exposed, it is important to know
its peculiar location. The range of country along the banks of the
Mississippi, is called the _coast_, commencing about forty miles below
and about sixty miles from what is called the “_Balize_.” This is a
term signifying a sea mark, or pole elevated as a guide for seamen, and
this was done by those who first made the discovery of the mouth of the
Mississippi. No other term is now used, but “_Balize_,” when going out
of the river. The _coast_ is a narrow strip of low, flat land, from one
to two miles wide, and in rear of which, running nearly parallel with
the river, is deep, dismal swamp land, filled with legions of the most
deadly, poisonous snakes, and herds of alligators. This belt of land is
perfectly level, until it meets a ridge at “Baton Rouge,” on the east
side of the river, about one hundred and twenty-five miles above the
city. The soil is a deep black sandy alluvial, of great fertility, and
seems not to deteriorate by cultivation. This whole coast along the
river is now occupied by the sugar planter, and for nearly eight months
in the year the eye of the traveler sees nothing before him but the
waving sugar cane, presenting one unbroken livid landscape of the most
beautiful green ever beheld upon the lap of nature.
The city is located on the west bank of the river, and the wide and
graceful sweep which the river takes at this point, in crescent shape,
crowds it far back into the belt of land, leaving but a narrow space
between the river and the swamp. This swamp is several miles wide,
skirting the rear of the city the whole length, and into this mud hole,
the water and filth (what little passes off) are taken. This boiling
fountain of death is one of the most dismal, low and horrid places,
on which the light of the sun ever shone. And yet there it lies under
the influence of a tropical heat, belching up its poison and malaria,
from whence it is constantly being swept through the city, feeding the
living mass of human beings who stand there, ready, as it were, to
take down the dregs of the seven vials of wrath, that is incessantly
being poured out upon them. Another evil is, the city, by the bend
of the river, is thrown so near the swamp that the range of land on
which it stands, is exceedingly low. Consequently, during a rain or
in a wet season, it is almost entirely under water, and always after
a heavy shower, or several days of damp wet weather. The state of the
atmosphere and heat are such that in a few hours the water in the
gutters and in the yards and vacant lots, becomes covered with a yellow
greenish scum, in which there appears to be a fermentation, which you
can distinctly hear, as you pass along the side-walk.