XVIII.
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 Levée. 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 Levée, 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?"