IN NEW ORLEANS by Eugene Field: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
A traveler in New Orleans strolls into an antique shop and, against his better judgment, drops twenty dollars on some curiosities — a pewter tankard, Bohemian bottles, a platter, and silver salts — all before nine in the morning.
The poem
'Twas in the Crescent City not long ago befell The tear-compelling incident I now propose to tell; So come, my sweet collector friends, and listen while I sing Unto your delectation this brief, pathetic thing-- No lyric pitched in vaunting key, but just a requiem Of blowing twenty dollars in by nine o'clock a.m. Let critic folk the poet's use of vulgar slang upbraid, But, when I'm speaking by the card, I call a spade a spade; And I, who have been touched of that same mania, myself, Am well aware that, when it comes to parting with his pelf, The curio collector is so blindly lost in sin That he doesn't spend his money--he simply blows it in! In Royal street (near Conti) there's a lovely curio-shop, And there, one balmy, fateful morn, it was my chance to stop; To stop was hesitation--in a moment I was lost-- _That_ kind of hesitation does not hesitate at cost! I spied a pewter tankard there, and, my! it was a gem-- And the clock in old St. Louis told the hour of eight a.m.! Three quaint Bohemian bottles, too, of yellow and of green, Cut in archaic fashion that I ne'er before had seen; A lovely, hideous platter wreathed about with pink and rose, With its curious depression into which the gravy flows; Two dainty silver salts--oh, there was no resisting _them_-- And I'd blown in twenty dollars by nine o'clock a.m. With twenty dollars, one who is a prudent man, indeed, Can buy the wealth of useful things his wife and children need; Shoes, stockings, knickerbockers, gloves, bibs, nursing-bottles, caps, A gown--_the_ gown for which his spouse too long has pined, perhaps! These and ten thousand other spectres harrow and condemn The man who's blown in twenty by nine o'clock a.m. Oh, mean advantage conscience takes (and one that I abhor!) In asking one this question: "What _did_ you buy it for?" Why doesn't conscience ply its blessed trade _before_ the act, _Before_ one's cussedness becomes a bald, accomplished fact-- _Before_ one's fallen victim to the Tempter's stratagem And blown in twenty dollars by nine o'clock a.m.? Ah me! now that the deed is done, how penitent I am! I _was_ a roaring lion--behold a bleating lamb! I've packed and shipped those precious things to that more precious wife Who shares with our sweet babes the strange vicissitudes of life, While he who, in his folly, gave up his store of wealth Is far away, and means to keep his distance--for his health!
A traveler in New Orleans strolls into an antique shop and, against his better judgment, drops twenty dollars on some curiosities — a pewter tankard, Bohemian bottles, a platter, and silver salts — all before nine in the morning. He then humorously agonizes over the money he could have spent on his wife and kids, only to confess that he sent the treasures home to his wife anyway and is now maintaining a safe distance. It's a light-hearted, self-deprecating acknowledgment of the irresistible pleasure that comes with collecting things you definitely don’t need.
Line-by-line
'Twas in the Crescent City not long ago befell / The tear-compelling incident I now propose to tell;
Let critic folk the poet's use of vulgar slang upbraid, / But, when I'm speaking by the card, I call a spade a spade;
In Royal street (near Conti) there's a lovely curio-shop, / And there, one balmy, fateful morn, it was my chance to stop;
Three quaint Bohemian bottles, too, of yellow and of green, / Cut in archaic fashion that I ne'er before had seen;
With twenty dollars, one who is a prudent man, indeed, / Can buy the wealth of useful things his wife and children need;
Oh, mean advantage conscience takes (and one that I abhor!) / In asking one this question: "What _did_ you buy it for?"
Ah me! now that the deed is done, how penitent I am! / I _was_ a roaring lion--behold a bleating lamb!
Tone & mood
The tone remains warmly humorous and self-deprecating throughout. Field acts out guilt instead of truly feeling it, and the reader is always part of the joke. The recurring mention of "nine o'clock a.m." has a music-hall vibe—hitting like a punchline each time. Beneath the humor lies real affection: for New Orleans, for the objects involved, and for the domestic life that the narrator pretends to have messed up.
Symbols & metaphors
- The curio shop — The shop on Royal Street embodies temptation — a spot where grown-up priorities fade away the moment you step inside. Field presents it almost as a trap or a shrine, a realm beyond the usual flow of time and responsibility.
- The twenty dollars — The specific sum serves as the poem's running joke and its moral anchor. Twenty dollars in the 1890s represented a significant amount — enough for basic household needs — so it carries real significance even as Field presents it as a humorous sacrifice in the name of collecting.
- The clock in old St. Louis — St. Louis Cathedral's clock shows eight a.m. during the moment of temptation and nine a.m. at the moment of ruin. Time acts as both witness and judge here — the clock doesn't interrupt the narrator; it simply notes how swiftly he fell.
- The pewter tankard and Bohemian bottles — The specific objects showcase the collector's passionate affection for the antique and the aesthetically pleasing. Their lack of utility is intentional: they embody pure desire without any practical reason, which makes them all the more alluring.
- The bleating lamb — The change from "roaring lion" to "bleating lamb" in the final stanza symbolizes a humorous deflation — a once bold spender is now a timid husband who keeps his distance. This shift lightly pokes fun at masculine bravado while recognizing the true dynamics of power at home.
Historical context
Eugene Field was a journalist and poet from Chicago, celebrated for his sentimental children's poems like "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod." However, he also penned plenty of comic and satirical pieces for newspaper columns. This poem falls into that lighter category of his work. By the 1880s and 1890s, New Orleans had turned into a trendy spot for Northern travelers, with antique dealers on Royal Street already notorious for their knack for parting tourists from their cash. Field was an avid and somewhat reckless collector of books and curiosities, which adds authenticity to the poem. It's likely that he wrote this piece for his syndicated column "Sharps and Flats" in the Chicago Daily News, where he shared humorous verses targeting a middle-class audience who could relate to the domestic humor of impulse buying and spousal accountability.
FAQ
A man visiting New Orleans drops by an antique shop on Royal Street, spending twenty dollars on collectibles: a pewter tankard, some Bohemian glass bottles, a decorative platter, and silver salt cellars—all before nine in the morning. The rest of the poem humorously explores his guilt about the money he *should* have spent on his family, culminating in the revelation that he sent the items home to his wife and is now dodging her response.
"Blows it in" was 19th-century American slang for spending money recklessly or wastefully, similar to blowing out a candle — quick, careless, and irreversible. Field uses it to intentionally contrast with the more respectable word "spend," repeating it as a humorous refrain throughout the poem.
Not really. The "penitence" comes across as something he does rather than something he truly experiences. His affectionate descriptions of each object — like the yellow and green Bohemian bottles and the "lovely, hideous platter" — show just how much he cherishes them. Plus, sending them back to his wife instead of keeping them for himself isn't exactly a hardship. The guilt here is more of a punchline than a central theme.
It's a nickname for New Orleans, Louisiana, highlighting the crescent-shaped bend in the Mississippi River that shaped the city's development. Field uses it in the opening line to add a bit of local flavor to the scene.
He's talking about the clock on St. Louis Cathedral in Jackson Square, a well-known landmark in New Orleans. By mentioning it directly, Field anchors the poem in a real location and employs the clock as a humorous element—it shows eight a.m. when temptation hits and nine a.m. when the consequences kick in, allowing the entire disaster to happen within just one hour.
He's saying his conscience only chimes in *after* he's already made all his purchases, which is pretty unhelpful. The humor lies in how quickly the collector's urge kicks in, leaving rational thought — and moral judgment — struggling to catch up. It’s a funny way to point out his lack of self-control, while also shifting the blame to his conscience's timing instead of his own weakness.
It's the poem's final punchline. After sending the curios back home to his wife, he's now avoiding her — probably because she’ll be furious about the twenty dollars. "For his health" is a clever way of saying he's scared of a domestic confrontation. This one line cuts down all his earlier mock-heroic posturing.
Almost certainly in spirit, if not in every detail. Field was known for his extensive collection of books and antiques, often spending more than he should on new finds. He penned the poem for his newspaper column, where his signature style was a confessional, first-person comic voice. While the specifics of this shopping trip may not have unfolded exactly as he described, the emotional truth behind the collector's obsession is clearly based on real experiences.