CHAPTER IV.
NEW ORLEANS IN 1847.—ITS EXTENT AND SITUATION.—LAFAYETTE.—CARROLLTON, ETC.
Omitting an account of the many deadly quarrels which were constantly fermented with the Indians—of the battles of the Louisianas with the Spanish and English—of the horrible and unparalleled murder of twelve of the principle citizens of Orleans, by the order of O'Reilly, the Spanish commandant, who had invited them to one of his banquets—nay, of a thousand interesting things connected with the history of this romantic city, which could not have been embodied in these hasty numbers, I proceed to consider its present condition and prospects.
The bend of land which sustains all this magnificence and wealth, is very much like that opposite Montgomery. A citizen acquainted with our localities, may very justly imagine New Orleans to commence on the west side of the Alabama, below Jackson's Ferry, continuing on by Bibb's gate and terminating just below town.—Opposite old Alabama town he may suppose the city of Lafayette to commence, then, further on, the town of Bouligny, and then Carrollton.
The city proper is, by the river, five miles long, and will average three-fourths of a mile wide. Then commences Lafayette, which extends up the river two miles further, and, as they are so intimately connected and associated, it all may be considered as one vast place, seven miles in extent. After a succession of splendid mansions, farms, and other houses, the whole resembling a continued village, Bouligny and Carrollton unite with the chain of commerce. A century from this date, Orleans, like London, will reach out her arms and encompass within her limits every town and hamlet for miles around. As London swallowed up Westminster, Southwark, Lambeth, and Chelsea, so will Lafayette, Bouligny, Carrollton, and others adjacent be lost in her future immensity. It will then all be New Orleans, the largest city on the continent of America, and perhaps in the world.
The foundation consists of a plain inclining from the river, and when looking from the St. Charles to the Levee, the singular spectacle is presented of ships and boats standing raised up before you, and the little rivulet in the street, just after a rain, running in a smart current by you and losing itself in the swamp, as if afraid to mingle with the "Father of Waters." As health and cleanliness are greatly promoted by this gentle inclined plain, it is most fortunate that Orleans is so situated. In ancient times the inhabitants were either amphibious or lived at great sufferance from the floods. But now they are protected by the Levee. A stranger however, upon the impulse, would think that protection uncertain. But if he would reflect for a moment, he would wisely determine that it requires not a very strong dyke to pen up the surplus water during a freshet, for the main current is confined by immense banks reaching far, far below. To render my position more palpable, suppose the river should suddenly dry up, Orleans would then be standing on a bluff three hundred and sixty feet high, for that is the depth of the river opposite the city. The foundation, a low alluvial bottom, has been much improved by draining and filling up. No building is erected without the foundation is made firm by piling with long logs driven down with immense force; but very massive buildings, even with this precaution, will continue to settle. It is said that the St. Charles is two feet lower now than formerly. Three great streets divide the city into municipalities. Between Canal and Esplanade, lies the first Municipality, between Esplanade and the lowest street on the outskirts, far down the river, lies the Third Municipality; and between Canal and Felicity, is the Second. They are wide and beautiful streets, running perfectly straight from the river to the farthest back limits, serving not only as boundaries for municipal purposes, but absolutely separating different races. The everlasting Yankees, with their shrewdness and enterprize, inhabit the Second Municipality; the wealthy French and Spanish fill up the First, with a large mixture of native Americans; but the Third Municipality is entirely French and Spanish. It was impossible for me to ascertain how many streets run through the city, but there are many. No fault can be found of the topography of Orleans, and it is strange that the regularity of the thorough fares should have been so well preserved under all the changes and vicissitudes through which she has passed. Everything is of interest here; even the names of the streets attract the notice of the visitor; and as he rides along, he may trace the different races who have formed and named them. He will pass through streets which the descendants of Spain first laid out, such as Esplanade, Ferdinand Casacalvo, Morales, and Perdido. Again his eye will glance at French names, such as Josephine, Bourbon, Chartres, Notre Dame, Dauphin, and Toulouse. Then there are various streets bearing the names of all the saints known to the Catholic devotee. In respect to names very little of Orleans has been Americanized. Occasionally you will meet with such names as Commerce and Canal, which doubtless sound very vulgar to the the French. But the master street of the world is the great Levee, usually from two to five hundred feet wide from the river to the buildings. From this great thoroughfare all others diverge, and it is the greatest mart of its extent in the world. While I was there, THIRTY-SIX THOUSAND BARRELS OF FLOUR were sold in a few hours! And while this astonishing transfer was going on, thousands of other produce and commodities were changing hands. Many years ago it was used as a fashionable promenade to enjoy the breezes of the Mississippi. Commerce has changed its character entirely. Now scenes of the most intensely exciting character are upon the Levee. The very air howls with an eternal din and noise. Drays and wagons of all descriptions, loaded with the produce of every clime, move on continually in one unbroken chain. Ships from every nation, whose masts tower aloft in a dense forest for five miles, with thirty thousand sailors and stevedores, busily loading and unloading, stand in your view. Steamboats, and crafts of every make and shape, from every river which empties into the Mississippi, are here mingling in the strife of commerce. The rough and homely produce of the far and cold Iowa—of the distant Wisconsin—of the black and stormy Northern Lakes, is here thrown upon the Levee in hurry and confusion mingled and mixed with the sweets and luxuries of the sunny tropics. Here, too, the various races of men astonish one. The Kentuckian with an honest and ruddy face; the Yankee with his shrewd and enterprising look; the rich planter of Mississippi; the elegant and chivalrous Carolinian; the sensible and honest citizen from the "Old North State;" the lively, fine-looking, and smart Georgian; the talented and handsome Virginian; the swarthy creole sugar planter; the rough hunter from the gorges of the Rocky Mountains—all natives of the Union—all freemen alike—all meet upon this common ground of Liberty and Commerce. And this picture must be carried out with the children of adoption. Here is also the dark and mysterious Spaniard puffing his cigar and sending up volumes of smoke through his black imperials; the gay and frisky Frenchman; the sturdy Dutchman; the son of Erin, and the cunning Jew. A trite adage says that "it takes all kinds of people to make a world;" verily, then, the Levee is a world.