AMONG THE CREOLES.
Meaning of the Word "Creole"--An Old Aristocratic Relic--The Venice of
America--Origin of the Creole Carnivals--Rex and His Annual
Disguises--Creole Balls--The St. Louis Veiled Prophets--The French
Market and Other Landmarks in New Orleans--A Beautiful Ceremony and an
Unfinished Monument.
New Orleans is known throughout the world for the splendor of its
carnivals. As one of the great Creole cities of the world, it has for
more than half a century made merry once a year, and given quite a
business aspect to carnival festivities. The Creole is one of the
interesting characters to be met with in a tour through the United
States. As a rule, he or she is joyous in the extreme, and believes most
heartily in the wisdom of the command to "laugh and grow fat." The
genuine Creole scarcely knows what it is to be sad for more than a few
hours at a time, a very little pleasure more than offsetting a very
great deal of trouble and suffering. A desire to move around and to
enjoy changes of scene is a special feature of the Creole, and hence the
spectacular effects of the carnival procession appeal most eloquently to
him.
Many Eastern and Northern people confound the term "Creole" and
"Mulatto," believing that the former name is given to the offspring of
mixed marriages, which take place in spite of the vigilance of the laws
of most of the Southern States. This is entirely a mistake, for the
genuine Creole, instead of being an object of contempt and pity, is
rather an aristocrat and of a higher caste than the average white man.
Strictly speaking, the term implies birth in this country, but foreign
parentage or ancestry. It was originally applied to the children of
French and Spanish settlers in Louisiana, and in that application
applied only to quite a handful of people. As time has worn on, and
French emigration has ceased, and the Spaniard has been gradually pushed
south, the number of actual Creoles has of course diminished rapidly.
The name, however, by common consent, has been perpetuated and is
retained by descendants in the third and fourth generations of original
Creoles. Some of the Creoles of to-day are very wealthy, and many of the
others are comparatively poor, changes in modes and conditions of life
having affected them very much. Although the very name Creole suggests
Spanish origin, there is more French blood among the Creoles of to-day
than that of any other nation. The vivacious habits and general love of
change so common among French people, continue in their descendants. The
old plan of sending the children over to France to be educated has been
largely abandoned in these later days, but the influences of Parisian
life still have their effect on the race.
This is largely the reason why it is that New Orleans has been often
spoken of as the American Venice. To that beautiful European city, with
its gondolas and picturesque costumes, belongs the honor of having
originated high-class comedy. To New Orleans must be given the credit of
planting, or at any rate perpetuating, the idea in a tangible shape in
this country, and of having, for fully two generations, kept up the
annual celebration almost without a break. Masquerading came across the
Atlantic from Venice by way of France, where the idea took strong hold.
When emigration from France to the old Territory of Louisiana became
general, the idea came with it, and the practice of sending children to
Paris to be educated resulted in the latest ideas of aristocratic
festivities being brought over to the home which has since sheltered
them.
History tells us that on New Year's Eve of 1831, a number of
pleasure-seeking men spent the entire night in a Creole restaurant at
Mobile arranging for the first mystic order in that city, and from this
beginning the long line of Creole comedies sprang up. In 1857, the
Mystic Krewe of Comus made its first appearance upon the streets of New
Orleans. "Paradise Lost" was the subject selected for illustration. Year
after year the revelry was repeated on Shrove Tuesday, but the outbreak
of the war naturally put a stop to the annual rejoicing. Southern
enthusiasm is, however, hard to down, and directly the war was over,
Comus reappeared in all his glory. A few years later the Knights of
Momus were created, and in 1876 the Krewe of Proteus had its first
carnival. Many other orders have followed, but these are the more
magnificent and important.
It is difficult to convey an adequate idea of the feeling which prevails
in regard to these comedies. The mystery which surrounds the orders is
extraordinary, and the secret has been well kept, a fact which cynics
attribute to the exclusion of ladies from the secret circle. It is well
known that on many occasions men have pretended to leave the city on the
eve of the comedy, and to have returned to their homes a day or two
later, not even their own families knowing that they took a leading part
in the procession. The Carnival Kings issue royal edicts prior to their
arrival, commanding all business to cease on the occasion of the
rejoicings. The command is obeyed literally. Banks, courts of justice
and business houses generally suspend operations, and old and young
alike turn out to do homage to the monarch of the day.
Let us imagine for a moment we are privileged to see a Creole carnival.
Every inch of available space has been taken up. Every balcony
overlooking the royal route is crowded with pleasure parties, including
richly dressed ladies, all the flower and beauty of the Sunny South
being represented. The course is illuminated in the most attractive
manner, and every one is waiting anxiously for the procession. Bands of
music, playing sprightly tunes, finally reward the patience of the
watchers. Then come heralds, bodyguards and marshals, all gorgeously
arrayed for the occasion. Their horses, like themselves, are richly
adorned for the occasion, and the banners and flags are conspicuous for
the artistic blending of colors.
Then riding in state comes the Lord High Chamberlain, bearing the golden
key of the city, delivered over to him in state twenty-four hours
previously by the Mayor. Next comes the hero of the parade, the King
himself. All eyes are riveted upon him. Thoroughly disguised himself, he
is able to recognize on the balconies and among the crowds his personal
friends and most devoted admirers. To these he bows with great
solemnity. Mystified to a degree, and often disputing among themselves
as to the probable identity of the monarch, the richly dressed young
ladies and their cavaliers bow in return, and look as though they would
fain hold the monarch among them much longer than the necessity of
keeping order makes it possible. Following the King are the bodyguards
and crowds of holiday makers.
Rex generally makes a display now of some special theme, appearing this
year as a crusader, another year as the discoverer of America, and a
third year as some other mystic individual. But no matter what the
subject of the carnival may be, the underlying principle is the same.
Sometimes a great deal of instruction is imparted with the mirth-making,
but in every case the procession is but a signal for general rejoicing.
Directly the procession is disbanded, which always takes place in
military order, the entire city gives way to fun and mirth of every
character. Liberty abounds throughout the city without license. By
common consent every one is careful to prevent disturbance or trouble.
All are happy, and every one seems to appreciate the fact that the very
life of the comedy depends upon its respectability. There is nothing
vulgar or common about any of the proceedings, or about the countless
tableaux which pass along the private streets. Everything is what has
been described as orderly disorder. Everything is attractive and easy.
The ball, which is a prominent feature of a Creole carnival, is a
wonderful combination of Nineteenth Century aristocratic ideas and of
Oriental humor. The guests are in full dress, and represent the highest
elements of Southern society. Around the carpeted floor, those who have
taken part in the pageant march in their grotesque costumes. An
apparently blood-thirsty Indian, brandishing a club over his head, darts
for a second from the line to go through the motions of dashing out the
brains of perhaps a most intimate friend, who has no idea who has thus
honored him by a recognition.
Another man, who in everyday life is, perhaps, a sedate banker or a
prominent physician, is masquerading in some extraordinary attire with a
mask of extraordinary dimensions and significance. He sees in the throng
a young lady of his acquaintance, and proceeds to shake hands with her
with great effusion. So well is the secret kept, that she has no idea
that the apparently frolicsome youth is a middle-aged man of business,
and she spends perhaps half the night wondering which of her beaus this
fearfully and wonderfully disguised man was.
Of the balls which succeed carnivals in the cities which delight in
these temporary divorces from the cares of business and finance, pages
might be written. One ball only need be mentioned in any detail. This is
the ball given by the "Knights of Revelry," in connection with and at
the expense of the Mobile clubs. The entire theatre was rearranged in
illustration of the theme of the club's pageant for the year. All around
the halls were hung tapestries and banners, artistically decorated, and
arranged so as to convey the idea of forests and gardens. The very doors
were converted into mimic entrances to caves and parterres, and the
general effect was entrancing as well as sentimental. The band was
hidden from the guests in a most delightfully arranged little Swiss
chalet, and refreshments were served from miniature garden pavilions.
The very floors upon which the dancing was to take place were decorated
so as to present the appearance of a newly mown lawn.
The height of realism was attained by means of an imitation moat over
the orchestra well. Across this was a drawbridge, which was raised and
dropped at fitting intervals, and the drop curtain was made to represent
a massive castle door. There was a banquet chamber, with faultless
reproductions of mediaeval grandeur and wonder. Stained glass windows
represented well-known and attractive ladies, and there were other
marvelous and costly innovations which seemed practically impossible
within a theatre.
At this ball, as at all others, the revelry proceeded until midnight.
Just as Cinderella left the ball when the clock struck 12, so do the
holders of the Creole revels stop dancing immediately that Lent has
commenced. The next day all is over. Men who the night before were the
leaders in the masquerade, resume their commonplace existence, and are
seen at the ordinary seats of custom, buying and selling and conducting
themselves like Eastern rather than Southern men.
The carnival idea has not been confined to strictly Southern cities. St.
Louis has, for many years in succession, enjoyed the pageants and balls
of its Veiled Prophets, an organization as secret and mysterious as any
to be found in a Creole section. Instead of being a Mardi Gras
celebration, the St. Louis pageant is given during the Indian summer
days of the first week of October. The parade takes place after
night-fall, and consists of very costly pageants and displays. It is no
exaggeration to say that hundreds of thousands of dollars have been
spent in illuminating the streets through which the processions have
passed, the money for this purpose being freely subscribed by business
men and private citizens. But in St. Louis, as in New Orleans, no one
knows who finds the money to pay for the preparation of the pageant, the
rich and varied costumes, the exquisite invitations and souvenirs, and
the gorgeous balls. Readers of the "Pickwick Papers" will remember that
when certain members of the club proposed to make a tour of the country,
with a view to noting matters of special interest, it was unanimously
resolved not to limit the scope of the investigations, and to extend to
the investigators the privilege of paying their own expenses. Very much
the same rule prevails in regard to the Creole carnivals and balls, and
the adaptation of the idea in other cities. The utmost secrecy is
preserved, and it is considered bad form in the extreme to even hint at
belonging to any of the secret orders. The members subscribe all
expenses themselves without a moment's hesitation, and there has never
been such a thing seen as a list of the amounts donated.
There are not lacking people who say that these celebrations are
childish, and beneath the dignity of a business community. The answer to
criticisms of this kind is, that no one being asked to contribute to the
expense of the revelries, or being even asked or allowed to purchase a
ticket of admission to the balls, any criticisms are very much like
looking a gift horse in the mouth. If it be agreed that life is made up
of something more than one stern, continuous race for wealth, then it
must be conceded that these carnivals occupy a most important part in
the routine of life. The absolute unselfishness of the entire work
commends it to the approval of the most indifferent. Those who raise the
expense have to work so hard during the parades and balls that they get
comparatively little pleasure from them, while they are also prevented
by the absolute secrecy which prevails from securing so much as a word
of thanks or congratulation from the outside public. In this material
age, there is a danger of celebrations of this kind wearing themselves
out. When they do so, the world will be the poorer in consequence.
New Orleans, to which we have referred as the great home of the Creole
carnival, is a city known the world over by reputation. It is situated
at the very mouth of the great Mississippi River, and its history dates
back to the year 1542, when a gallant band of adventurers floated down
the river into the Gulf of Mexico. In 1682, La Salle sailed down the
river and took possession of the country on both sides of it in the name
of France. In the closing days of the Seventeenth Century a French
expedition landed not far from New Orleans, which was founded in 1718,
with a population of sixty-eight souls. Three years later, the city,
which now contains a population of more than a quarter of a million, was
made the capital of the Territory of Louisiana, and it at once became a
place of considerable importance.
In 1764, it was ceded to Spain, and this resulted in the people taking
possession of New Orleans and resisting the change in government. Five
years later, the new Spanish Governor arrived with ample troops,
suppressed the rebellion, and executed its leaders from the Place
d'Armes. In 1804, the territory of Orleans was established, and in 1814,
a British army, 15,000 strong, advanced on the city after which the
Territory was named. A great deal of confusion followed, but the city
held its own, and the invading army was repulsed.
During the Civil War New Orleans again saw active campaigning. The
occupancy of the city by General Butler, and the stern measures he
adopted to suppress the loyalty even of the women of the town, has
formed the subject of much comment. There are many interesting stories
concerning this epoch in the city's history, which are told with many
variations to every one who sojourns for a while in the great port at
the gate of the greatest river in the world.
To-day, New Orleans is perhaps best known as the second largest cotton
mart in the world, some 2,000,000 bales of the product of the Southern
plantations being received and shipped out every year. More than
30,000,000 pounds of wool and 12,000,000 pounds of hides also pass
through the city every year, to say nothing of immense quantities of
bananas and costly transactions in sugar and lumber.
Although New Orleans is really some little distance from the ocean, the
river at this point is more than half a mile wide, and the great ships
of all nations are seen loading and unloading at its levee.
New Orleans naturally abounds in ancient landmarks and memorials. The
old Spanish Fort is one of the most interesting among these. Warfare of
the most bitter character was seen again and again at this place. The
fortifications were kept up largely to afford protection against raids
from Mexican pirates and hostile Indians, though they were often useful
against more civilized foes. It was at this port that Andrew Jackson
prepared to receive the British invaders. The magnificent use he made of
the fortifications should have given to the old place a lasting standing
and a permanent preservation. Some forty years ago, however, the fort
was purchased and turned into a kind of country resort, and more lately
it has become the home of a recreation club.
Better preserved, and a most interesting connecting link between the
past and the present, is the world-renowned French Market in New
Orleans. A story is told of a great novelist, who traveled several
thousand miles in order to find representatives of all nationalities
grouped together in one narrow space. For a work he had in contemplation
he was anxious to select for his characters men of all nationalities,
whom chance or destiny had thrown together. He spent several days in
Paris, journeyed throughout sunny Italy, got lost in some of the
labyrinths of the unexplored sections of London, and finally crossed the
Atlantic without having found the group of which he was in search. Not
even in the large cities of America could he find his heart's desire,
and it was not until he strayed into the old French Market of New
Orleans that he found that for which he searched. He spent several days,
and even weeks, wandering through the peculiar market, and making
friends with the men of all nationalities who were working in different
parts of it. He found the Creole, full of anecdote, superstition and
pride, even when he was earning an occasional meal by helping to unload
bananas, or to carry away the refuse from the fish stores. The negro, in
every phase of development, civilization and ignorance, could, and
always can, be found within the confines of the market. The amount of
folk-lore stored up in the brains covered by masses of unkempt wool
astounded the novelist, who distributed dollars, in return for
information received, so lavishly, that he began to be looked upon after
a while as a capitalist whose wealth had driven him insane. Then, again,
he met disappointed emigrants from nearly all the European countries,
men, and even women, who had crossed the Atlantic full of great
expectations, but who had found a good many thorns among the looked-for
roses.
The Indian is not often seen now around the French Market, although he
used to be quite a feature of it. Some of the most exceptionally idle
loungers, however, show evidence of Indian blood in their veins, in the
shape of exceptionally high cheek-bones, and abnormally straight and
ungovernable hair.
Almost every known language is spoken here. There is the purest French
and the most atrocious patois. There is polished English, which seems to
indicate high education, and there is the most picturesque dialect
variation that could be desired by the most ardent devotee of the
everlasting dialect story. Spanish is of course spoken by several of the
market traders and workers, while Italian is quite common. At times in
the day, when trade is very busy, the visitor may hear choice expletives
in three or four languages at one time. He may not be able to interpret
the peculiar noises and stern rebukes administered to idle help and
truant boys, but he can generally guess pretty accurately the scope and
object of the little speeches which are scattered around so freely.
If it be asked what special function the market fulfills, the answer is
that it is a kind of inquire-within for everything. Many of the poorer
people do all their trading here. Fruit is a great staple, and on
another page a picture is given of one of the fruit stands of the old
market. The picture is reproduced from a photograph taken on the spot by
an artist of the National Company of St. Louis, publishers of "Our Own
Country," and it shows well the peculiar construction of the market. The
fruit sections are probably the most attractive and the least
objectionable of the entire market, because here cleanliness is
indispensable. In the vegetable section, which is also very large, there
is not always quite so much care displayed or so much cleanliness
enforced, refuse being sometimes allowed to accumulate liberally. Fish
can be obtained in this market for an almost nominal consideration,
being sometimes almost given away. Macaroni and other similar articles
of diet form the staple feature of the Italian store of trade, which is
carried on on the second floor of the market. The legitimate work called
for alone provides excuse for the presence of many thousand people, who
run hither and thither at certain hours of the day as though time were
the essence of the contract, and no delay of any kind could be
tolerated. As soon, however, as the pressing needs of the moment are
satisfied, a period of luxurious idleness follows, and rest seems to be
the chief desideratum of the average habitue or employe. The children,
who are sitting around in large numbers, vie with their elders in
matters of idleness, though they are occasionally aroused to a condition
of pernicious activity by the hope of securing donations or compensation
of some kind from newcomers and guests.
Structurally, the French Market is very well preserved. There are
evidences of antiquity and of the ravages of time and weather on every
side, but for all that the market seems to have as its special mission
the reminding of the people that when our ancestors built, they built
for ages, and not entirely for the immediate present, as is too often
the case nowadays. The market also serves as a link between the present
and the past. It is only of late years that the bazaar, which used to be
so prominent a feature, has fallen into insignificance. Formerly it
retained the importance of the extreme Orient, and afforded infinite
fund for reflection for the antiquarian and the lover of history.
The cemeteries of New Orleans are of exceptional interest, and are
visited every year by thousands of people. Owing to the proximity of
the water mark to the surface of the ground, the dead are not buried as
in other cities, and the vaults are above instead of under ground. They
are well arranged, and the antiquity of the burial grounds, and the
historic memories connected with the tablets, combine to make them of
more than ordinary interest. The local custom of suspending business on
the first day of November of each year for the purpose of decorating
graves in all the cemeteries, is also worthy of more than a passing
notice. Not only do people decorate the last resting places of their
friends and relatives on this specially selected day, but even the
graves of strangers are cared for in a spirit of thankfulness that the
angel of death has not entered the family circle, and made inroads into
bonds of friendship.
A few years ago a young woman died on the cars just as they were
entering the world-renowned Creole city. There was nothing on the body
to aid identification, and a stranger's grave had to be provided. In the
meantime the friends and relatives of the missing girl had been making
every effort to locate her, no idea having occurred to them that she was
going South. A loving brother finally got hold of a clew, which he
followed up so successfully that he at last solved the mystery. He
arrived in New Orleans on November 1st, and when taken out to the grave
that had been provided for the stranger who had died just outside the
gates, he was astounded to find several handsome bouquets of flowers,
with wreaths and crosses, lying upon it. Such a sight could hardly have
been met with in any other city in the world, and too much can hardly be
said in praise of the sentiment which suggests and encourages such
disinterested kindness and thought.
The cemetery which occupies a site close to the great battle-field, is
always specially decorated, and crowds go out in thousands to pay
tribute to honored memories. Close to this spot there is a monument to
celebrate the great battle during which General Pakingham was shot, and
at which General Jackson galloped excitedly up and down the lines, and
almost forced the men on to victory. The monument has not received the
care which it deserves. More than half a century ago work was commenced
on it, and a great deal was accomplished. But after a year or two of
effort the project was abandoned for the time, and it has never been
renewed. In the long interval that has ensued the roof has, in a large
measure, disappeared, as well as several of the steps leading up to the
front. Hundreds of people have cut their names in the stone work, and
the monument, which ought to be preserved in perpetuity, looks so
disreputable that little regret would be caused were the entire fragment
to be swept away by some unusually heavy gust of wind.
More than 1,500 soldiers were buried in the Chalmette Cemetery after the
battle referred to. Since the war it has been well nigh forgotten, but
several duels and affaires d'honneur have been settled on the historic
spot.