The Creole of Louisiana forms another distinct specimen to be met with here, though seldom mixing much with either of the first named classes. He invariably conserves much of the air and appearance of la belle France, and can never be mistaken, offering, according to his disposition, all the varieties of his original stock, from the amiable deportment and companionable bonhommie of the well-bred Frenchman, to the fierce brusquerie and swaggering sneer of the gallant of the estaminet.
What will be the result of a complete amalgamation of all these classes, which one day must arrive, together with an admixture yet more opposed,—an admixture as certain nevertheless as is the march of time, but which cannot now be named, and which these classes would each and all shudder to contemplate,—an amalgamation that has already begun, and is in truth in full progress; and this increase a falling-off in the price of cotton, so as to render slave-labour less valuable, will infallibly hasten in a ratio perfectly geometrical.
Time is the surest emancipator after all; for proof of which look not to the prospect presented here, but turn back on the old States. At what period did philanthropy triumph there? why exactly at that point where interest joined issue with its dictates; the slave was, in fact, admitted as a hired labourer, when he ceased to be profitable as a bondsman: and that day will arrive here also, as surely as that the sun shines on Louisiana; and the lower valley of the Mississippi will yet be peopled by a free and hardy race, born on the soil made each year more fruitful and less pestilential, until it shall rival the valleys of the Ganges or the Nile, if not in the splendour of art, at least in the more solid and enduring possessions,—education, intelligence, and freedom; for only whilst so sustained can the institutions of democracy exist; these once failing to advance hand-in-hand with population, the whole fabric will, with inconceivable rapidity, be resolved into a rude anarchy for some bold mind to re-form and re-model.
One of the greatest works now in progress here, is the canal planned to connect Lac Pontchartrain with the city. In the month of February it was completed to within three miles of the lake; and as it was a pleasant ride to the point where the digging was in progress, I two or three times visited the scene, after its bearings had been explained by the two intelligent persons under whose guidance I first penetrated the swamp.
I only wish that the wise men at home who coolly charge the present condition of Ireland upon the inherent laziness of her population, could be transported to this spot, to look upon the hundreds of fine fellows labouring here beneath a sun that at this winter season was at times insufferably fierce, and amidst a pestilential swamp whose exhalations were fœtid to a degree scarcely endurable even for a few moments; wading amongst stumps of trees, mid-deep in black mud, clearing the spaces pumped out by powerful steam-engines; wheeling, digging, hewing, or bearing burdens it made one's shoulders ache to look upon; exposed meantime to every change of temperature, in log-huts, laid down in the very swamp, on a foundation of newly-felled trees, having the water lying stagnant between the floor-logs, whose interstices, together with those of the side-walls, are open, pervious alike to sun or wind, or snow. Here they subsist on the coarsest fare, holding life on a tenure as uncertain as does the leader of a forlorn hope; excluded from all the advantages of civilization; often at the mercy of a hard contractor, who wrings his profits from their blood; and all this for a pittance that merely enables them to exist, with little power to save, or a hope beyond the continuance of the like exertion.
Such are the labourers I have seen here, and have still found them civil and courteous, with a ready greeting for the stranger inquiring into their condition, and a quick jest on their own equipment, which is frequently, it must be admitted, of a whimsical kind.
Here too were many poor women with their husbands; and when I contemplated their wasted forms and haggard sickly looks, together with the close swamp whose stagnant air they were doomed to breathe, whose aspect changeless and deathlike alone met their eyes, and fancied them, in some hour of leisure, calling to memory the green valley and the pure river, or the rocky glen and sparkling brook of their distant home, with all the warmth of colouring the imaginative spirit of the Irish peasant can so well supply, my heart has swelled and my eyes have filled with tears.
I cannot hope to inspire the reader with my feelings upon a mere sketch like this; but if I could set the scene of these poor labourers' exile fairly forth, with all the sad accompaniments detailed; could I show the course of the hardy, healthy pair, just landed, to seek fortune on these long-sighed-for shores, with spirits newly lifted by hope and brighter prospects from the apathy into which compulsory idleness and consequent recklessness had reduced them at home; and then paint the spirit-sinking felt on a first view of the scene of their future labour,—paint the wild revel designed to drown remembrance, and give heart to the new-comers; describe the nature of the toil where exertion is taxed to the uttermost, and the weary frame stimulated by the worst alcohol, supplied by the contractor, at a cheap rate for the purpose of exciting a rivalry of exertion amongst these simple men.
Next comes disease, either a sweeping pestilence that deals wholesale on its victims, or else a gradual sinking of mind and body; finally, the abode in the hospital, if any comrade is interested enough for the sufferer to bear him to it; else, the solitary log-hut and quicker death. Could these things with their true colours be set forth in detail before the veriest grinder of the poor that ever drove the peasant to curse and quit the soil of his birth, he would cover his eyes from the light of heaven, and feel that he yet possessed a heart and human sympathy.