New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1870-03-07
THE GREAT UNWASHED.

As the warm weather approaches, our neigh
boring village, Philadelphia, grows sluggishly
uneasy, remembering the drouth of last Sum-
mer and the shabby trick which her broken
down water-works at Paramount sefXed her on
that occasion. The supply of water was so low
that, if New-YOrk had not sent aid i'll the
shape of an engine, the consequences might
have proved fatal to all except those leading
politicians who with wise foresight abstemlously
deny themselves the use of that liquid. Even
as it was the supply was meted out, so many
pint cups for each house; the streets had
been so long uncleaned save by beneficent
rain that no change was perceptble In them;
but all washing, even of the babies faces, was
prohibited by authority. OF course nothing
has been done in the matter since. Phlladel-
mia cherishes Paramount and her old families
rs the CatacOmbs do their mummies; the worn
out old engines crcak away unmolested.
There is every reason to suppose that the
Philadelphians will remain permanently thirsty
and unwashed during all Summers yet to come,
unless Providence mercifully puts an end to
her by n fire which New-York is too busy to
put out.
We feel constrained to demonstrate seriously
with this prosperous village. bent on It's own
destruction For certain wcll-knOwn defects
OF hers she is not to be blamed. Cities as
we'll rs men, inherit business energy, intellect
and aesthetic tastes if our neighbor is hope
lessly slow, deficient in literature and art
and gluttonously fond of terrapin, these
are misfortunes. not faults. 1t is in
her blood. Evidently she can't help it.
But she was once at least honest and clean
" 40
models of excellence. Every house was built
precisely like that of Penn, and every boy was
born wifi n hatchet in his hand. Her honesty
has unfortunately been hopelessly slaughtered
by her Row officers, and its ghost will never
walk again. Upon that point We ere silent
But cleanliness may yet be restored. Phila-
delphia need no longer be marked as she is
now, as the filthiest city in the Union. Let
our broad brinimed friends pause and reflect
upon the evils resulting from lack of the
proper use of tho bath. Who doubts that the
scarcity of water in Paris has engendered the
morbid humors, the discomfort of that revolu-
tionary capital7 What might not NJ. Olivier
save in troops and craftsmanship, if he would
accept Mr.. Dicks advice upon the problem of
the malcontent. dirty Partisan, and "wash him ?"
Would that the Croton aqueduct could replace
the Seine, and Paris smell sweet to heaven and
mankind as New-York
May not the mental and moral torpor Of our
neigllbor be explained in the same way Who
lives in mud must himself be muddy. Let us
again earnestly urge reform ere it be too
late. The hideous red-brick houses swathed
in dust, and bounded by canals of slush. are
spectacle over which angels and Gothamites
might sorrow together. The story goes that
Plus *, who has mania for cold water and
clean skins, was approached by an American
prelate, the other day, for. his benediction.
With a twinkle of his eye the Pope gave it in
Italian. ugly and dirty as thou art, bless
" thcem We arc afraid that, infalliblo or not,
Ills holiness patience would give way II our