On the eastern bank of the Mississippi, stands the city of New-Orleans.
It is regularly laid out, chiefly built of brick, has many fine blocks
of buildings, large houses and handsome streets; but its site is
too low for it to appear to advantage, or to render it pleasant and
agreeable. It stretches two miles along the river bank; and for that
distance, the levee is lined with triple and quadruple rows of vessels,
steamboats and flat-boats; all having their particular location by
themselves. The trade of New-Orleans is immense. By the weekly shipping
register, it appeared there were two hundred and thirty-four vessels
in port. The levee is loaded with bales of cotton, barrels of pork
and flour, hogsheads of hams, kegs of lard and hogsheads of sugar and
molasses. It is a place of great business, bustle and blandishment; and
of dissipation, disease and death.
As I passed along by its muddy pavements and putrid gutters, and saw
the many gambling houses, grog shops, oyster shops, and houses of
riot and debauchery, surely, thought I, there are many things here
exceedingly offensive, both to the physical and moral man. And when I
saw the motley throngs, hurrying on to these haunts of vice, corruption
and crime, I almost instinctively exclaimed, in the words of the
immortal bard--
"Broad is the road that leads to death,
And thousands walk together there!"
But here, the career of the debauchee is short.--The poisonous
atmosphere soon withers and wastes away his polluted life's blood.
Death follows close upon the heels of crime; and one need stand but a
short time at the charnel house, to behold cartloads of his victims,
hurried on, "unwept, unhonored and unsung," to their last home!
Life seems to be valued by its possessor, in proportion to the strength
of the tenure by which it is held. When danger becomes imminent, and
life's termination apparently near, instead of making the most of its
short duration, man improvidently throws it away, as of no value; or
suppresses all apprehension of the future, by rushing headlong into
the wildest excesses of dissipation and crime. This is sometimes
exemplified in the sailor. When perils thicken around and death stares
him in the face, instead of summoning all his powers into action,
and bravely contending to the last, he attempts to shut his eyes
upon impending ruin, by stupifying the body, and ignobly surrenders
life without a struggle. On no other principle, can I account for
the excesses of New-Orleans. In its best estate, it is emphatically
a place of disease and death. Its atmosphere is pestiferous. It is
felt so to be, and so considered by its citizens. One might suppose,
amid the ravages of disease and death, a man would think seriously and
live soberly. That if his days were to be very few, he would make them
all count, and tell to the greatest advantage. But the inhabitants of
New-Orleans, instead of attempting to deprive death of his power, are
enlisted on his side--they put poisoned arrows in his quiver, and add
new terrors to his name! The sanctions of law and religion are set at
nought, the Sabbath profaned, and they give themselves up to hilarity,
dissipation and crime. Is this denied? The fact is too apparent and
notorious, successfully to be concealed or denied. Could the many
victims of debauchery and crime speak, they might "unfold a tale" that
would cause "the hair of the flesh to stand up," and make the boldest
turn pale. Shall I be asked to particularize? Take the Criminal Code,
and there read its long list of enormities and crimes.
Censures are painful, and comparisons are deemed invidious; but I must
say New-Orleans does not show that order, neatness and sobriety, found
in other large cities of the Union. Murders, robberies, thefts and
riots, are too common hardly to elicit a passing notice. Man here seems
to have become reckless of life. It is taken and given for "trifles
light as air," with an indifference truly astonishing. The police is
inefficient or shamefully negligent.--The authorities of the city
appear to stand aloof, and see the populace physically and morally
wallowing in the mire. It does appear to me, that if all in authority,
and all the virtuous portion of the citizens would brace themselves to
the work, the city might be greatly improved in health and in morals.
Let the strong arm of the law be put forth fearlessly--let the streets
be cleared of mud and filth, and the gutters of their putrid water--let
the police be active and take into custody the disorderly knaves and
vagabonds--let gambling houses be put down, and Sunday theatres and
circuses be suppressed, and New-Orleans would wear a different aspect.
Then might its streets be walked without fear of life or limb; and the
great wealth flowing in, by canal, railroad and river, be fully enjoyed.
This may be thought by some to be an exaggerated account of the city.
For the honor of our country and of human nature, I wish it might be.
But it is, indeed, too true; and whoever happens to visit it, that
places a decent value upon life, or the goods of this life, will be
glad, like me, to escape without the injury or loss of either. Although
the vessel I came in was robbed of money and wearing apparel; one of
its sailors knocked down and his money taken from him; and a companion
of mine had his pocket book cut from his pocket; yet, I fortunately
escaped. I could not, however, feel at ease among such a set of
plunderers and robbers.
I am fully aware, that a large portion of the populace is made up of
all nations, tongues and languages; that their residence here is often
transient; that many enormities are incidental to all large cities of
such a mixed population; and that the many worthy citizens ought not to
be held responsible for all the crimes that may be committed, unless
they make themselves accessory to them, by indifferently looking on,
and taking no energetic measure to prevent them. But it does appear to
me they are culpably negligent in this particular.
The city authorities need not sanction crime, by licensing gambling
houses and houses of ill-fame. By so doing, they take from themselves
the power of frowning upon crime, or of effectually punishing the
criminal; but leave him to assume an unblushing boldness in society,
not elsewhere witnessed, that is truly alarming. If crime may not be
entirely prevented, it can be rendered disgraceful; and those who have
a decent respect for the opinion of mankind, if they have none for
themselves, will then be deterred from committing evil. But as long as
New-Orleans is believed to be a place, where crimes may be committed
with impunity, and without incurring the censure or disapprobation
of its citizens; so long will it be the general haunt for the knaves
and vagabonds of the Union, and of the world.--They will centre here;
give countenance and support to each other; draw within their deadly
grasp the unsuspecting, the vicious and the idle; and, like the rolling
snow-ball, at every impulse enlarge their circle, and gain additional
force and power.
It is time, high time for all the sober minded and well disposed to
awake, look about them, and see their true condition. Theirs is the
sleep of death. Like Jonah of old, they slumber amid the whirlwind
and storm. New-Orleans needs reform; and in a righteous cause, small
means may effect much. Ten men may chase a thousand. Can the result be
doubtful?
----"Our doubts are traitors
And make us lose the good we oft might win,
By fearing to attempt."
But I have done with the health and moral condition of New-Orleans. I
am told it has improved, and is improving. And yet there is room--an
ample field for the philanthropist to exercise the utmost stretch of
his powers, to improve the physical and moral condition of its citizens.
A particular description of the city is not necessary. Its favorable
location for foreign and domestic trade, and vast resources, are well
known. One thing was new to me. It contains about half a dozen large
cotton presses, entirely occupied in compressing bales of cotton.
Those intended for a foreign market, are made to occupy one half of
their original space; so that a vessel can carry double the quantity
it otherwise might. The large number of bales shipped from this port,
makes this an extensive business. The charge for compressing is
seventy-five cents a bale. Bales designed for the northern ports, do
not undergo this operation, but are shipped as they come from the hands
of the planter.
New-Orleans has three extensive markets; two for flesh, and one for
vegetables. I walked through them all, and thought the city was
abundantly supplied with provisions, and of a good quality. Although it
was January, the vegetable market was supplied with melons, green peas,
radishes, lettuce, &c. And boats frequently landed, with cart loads of
oranges, fresh from the trees. Fish are neither abundant nor of a fine
flavor.
On the opposite side of the river, are the shipyards; but they seem
to be more occupied in repairs, than in building new vessels. Here is
a small village of a dozen houses, a grog shop and a tavern. A steam
ferry boat constantly plies across the river, and appears to have a
plenty of business.
The city is connected with lake Pontchartrain, by a canal for small
vessels, and a railroad. The distance is five miles. Steamboats
regularly run from the end of the railroad, to Mobile and other
ports. New-Orleans has no wharves. It would be more convenient in
loading vessels to have them; but they cannot be built on a foundation
sufficiently firm to withstand the strong current of the Mississippi. A
few years ago a wharf was built; but it was soon undermined, and sunk
in the stream.