So great was the influence of this Capuchin, who could never even learn to speak good French, over the Creoles of New Orleans, that he occasioned serious anxiety to the local government at the time of the Aaron Burr excitement, as it was feared he might lend his aid to the traitor, but the old priest gave the civil government very little trouble.

But to the religious government of the Catholic church in Louisiana this celebrated Capuchin gave a great deal of trouble. Before he had given any'anxiety to Claiborne be had a tremendous quarrel with a new Vicar-General of the diocese, Father Walsh, who happened to be an Irishman, and a determined Irishman, too. Father Antonio was suspended ; but he appealed to his parishioners, and they elected him their pastor by a unanimous vote. The Marquis of Casa Calvo, who still resided in New Orleans, lent the weight of his social influeuce to the Spanish Capuchin, and the whole Catholic community bid defiance to Walsh, who, firm as he was, finally found himself obliged to yield. Father de Sedella was re-instated ; but only a few years later he got into another and much more serious squabble with his ecclesiastical superiors, so that Bishop Dubourg suspended him again from duty. For a few days Father Antonio disappeared from the narrow streets of New Orleans, and the children looked in vain for the white beard, the sandaled feet, the brown Franciscan habit, and the bag of lagniappe.

Finally the good folks became uneasy and resolved to find out what had become of the pire Ahtoim cheri. There were fifteen babies to be christened ; there were a dozen couples to be married; there were many repentant sinners to be shriven; there were sick people to be visited, and dying people to be absolved. Yet Padre Antonio remained invisible. Perhaps he

had been murdered by some horrible villain for the sake of that leather purse he forever carried in his girdle. The hermitage at the Cathedral was empty ; the mass had not been said for many days at the altar of St. Francis. But at last Father Antoine was found without the city limits, praying in the shadow of cypress trees and closely environed by legions of gray alligators. They seized him (the parishioners, not the alligators) and bore him back to the city in triumph. They took him into the church, to the sanctuary itself, to the altar, and insisted that he should say mass for them. They told him all the good work of christening and marrying and shriving that he had to do ; they told him that the bishop was a fool; they forced money into his leather bag; but he sadly and firmly answered that he could do nothing until the bishop recalled him to duty.

Then the fury of the mob became great. They rushed out of the church and poured through the streets towards the old Ursulines convent, where the Bishop dwelt, but the bishop warned of their approach had fled from the city, and many months elapsed before he dared return. Of course, Father Antonio de Sedella was promptly restored to duty ; and thereafter none ventured to interfere with his spiritual jurisdiction. Perhaps it was on account of these things that Catholic opinion is still somewhat divided on the subject of the old monk's claim to sanctity.

When General Lafayette visited New Orleans in 1825, he was visited by Father Antonio, then in his seventy-fifth year ; and the two aged veterans—aged in the good fight of a lifetime for faith and fatherland—met with such mutual respect and esteem as the knights and prelates of olden time ever felt for one another. It is a pity that we do not know all that passed between them : for the CouHer of that day (April 13, 1825), informs us that the General and the aged monk had a long talk together. But we know the General stated that he was proud to be about the same age as Father Antonio, who was old as three generations—" For there is not much difference between us," said Lafayette; " I am a man of '76."

The good father died at the age of eighty-one years, amid the lamentations of the entire community of the city.

So beloved was the old priest by all classes and denominations that we even find in the papers of that day a published call to attend the funeral, issued by the Masons of all branches. And here are some telling extracts from that printed summons, which was, perhaps, the greatest honor ever paid to Father Antonio's character :

" That venerable pastor, as tolerant as virtuous, as charitable as enlightened, is not only regretted by an immense population, but he deservedly enjoyed the esteem and regard of that numerous class of our community whose principles are founded upon faith, hope and charity— those racred dogmas which Father Antoine preached as long as he lived. * * * * Masons remember that Father Antoine never refused to accompany to their last abode the mortal remains of our brothers, and that gratitude now requires that we, of all rites and degrees, should in our turn accompany him thither with all the respect and veneration he so well deserved."

And the call was nobly answered. Perhaps it was the first time in history that the Masonic fraternity ever publicly mourned the death of a Catholic priest and walked in solemn procession after the remains.

But every one attended the funeral of Father Antonio—all the militia and soldiery, the police, the judges of the courts, the legislators and City Council, all the wealthy merchants of the city, and—strange to say—all the ministers and clergy of all denominations. The whole city went forth that day to honor the dead. The newspapers suspended publication ; the plays of the theatres were suspended ; the courts were adjourned, and the warehouses closed ; and the City Council solemnly passed a resolution by which its members publicly pledged themselves to wear crape on the left arm for thirty days in memory of good Father Antonio.

pere antoine's date palm,

Everybody who has ever visited New Orleans has heard of Pere Antoine's date palm. It is still growing in the lot at the northeast corner of Bourbon and Orleans streets, in the Second district, new used as a wood yard by Mr. T. Mitchel. The land was the property of Father Antoine while he lived, and the palm-tree stands at what was the foot of his garden lot. It has passed from the hands of Father Antoine, through the families of Genois and Avengo, to Madame J. M. Lapeyre, the present owner. Innumerable have been the tales told of it.

Some whisper that it sprang from the heart of a young girl who died dreaming of palm fringed shores and pining for the murmur of the sea.

Some aver that it was borne hither from the Orient by the swarthy crew of a corsair, who landed one wild and stormy night, and slew a Turkish refugee who dwelt where the tree now stands ; and having buried him, they planted the palm above his grave.

Others state that it stood three centuries ago where it stands to-day; that it was once blown down, and that the present graceful ti*unk has sprung up from the ruins of the ancient one.

And it is also said that a Spanish resident who loved palms, and who had long dwelt in tropical countries, sent for the palm over the seas, that its graceful presence might remind him of summer lands and the mystic chant of the Spanish main.

There is also a story that he who fells the tree must render up the land on which it grew, to the city; but we, having conversed with the owner of the ground, were otherwise informed.

The tree keeps its secret.

Whether planted by nature or by the hand of man, by Indian or Spaniard or French colonist; whether created by the sweet magic of a woman's heart, as some men say; whether transplanted from the gardens of Constantinople, as the quaint tradition relates; whether it has witnessed the birth of this mighty city, and waved its cacique's-plume above houses that ceased to exist before we were born, through all the days of the old French and Spanish governors; whether its leaves were agitated by the distant thunder of the famous battle with English invaders ; whether it looked down upon O'Reilly's Spanish infantry filing by ; whether it sometimes whispers its thoughts in the ear of Night—who shall say ? Perhaps it has a mysterious, sentient life, and h'olds in the hidden recesses of its being, some strange memories of pre-existence—of low reefs white with foam—of untrodden forests of taller palms—of the chatter of apes and the shrieks of rainbow-plumaged birds—of purple mountain peaks—of quaint galleons and the songs of Spanish mariners. And, perchance, while striving in the night to collect these memories—faint and ghostly as objects seen through a sea-fog—it wonders vaguely that it should be able to live through the centuries in so strange a land as this ; and its leaves nod and whisper to one another until the tapers of the stars die out, and the great light of dawn glows over the river, and the noise of hammer and saw, and the rumble of wagons harshly dispel the thin fancies of its vegetable brain.

Gayarre\ in his history of Louisiana, has a long tale to tell of this palm.


The St. Louis Cathedral remained for years the only cathedral, indeed, the only church in New Orleans. It was only when the city began to spread that other religious edifices were built.

As late as 1842, when the city boasted a population of 60,000, a majority of whom were Catholics, it boasted of only five churches—the Cathedral, St. Mary's, the archiepiscopal residence, St. Patrick's; on Camp street, St. Anthony's Mortuary Chapel, on Rampart street, and St. Vincent de Paul's on Greatmen street.

The St. Antoine Obituary Chapel, on North Rampart street, corner of Conti, erected by the wardens, now St. Anthony's Italian Church. The history of this chapel is as follows : On account of the great increase in the population of the city, and of course the increased number of interments, objection was made about the year 1822 to the performance of the services for the dead at the Cathedral, on account of its very prominent and public situation. Under these circumstances the city made a grant of land at the corner of Conti and Rampart streets, near the St. Louis Cemetery, to the Board of Wardens of the Church of St. Louis, on condition of their erecting upon the same, a chapel as a place for the exposition of the bodies and performance of the funeral ceremonies in conformity to the Catholic ritual. In pursuance with this intention, a cross, markiug the present site of the altar of the chapel was placed with proper ceremonies on the 10th of October, 1826, and on the following morning the building was begun. Its erection ''was vigorously prosecuted at the expense of the Board of Wardens of the Cathedral. The chapel was dedicated to St. Anthony of Padua. A few years ago the church was closed as a mortuary chapel, and was given to Italian Catholics of the city. In it are to be seen many crutches and wax figures of arms, and legs and other gifts, made by persons who believe that they have been miraculously cured by praying in this chapel.

St. Patrick's Church, situated on Camp street, between Julia and Girod streets, is a triumph worthy of the genius of Gothic architecture, whether the dimensions or the splendor of the structure be considered. The style, taken from the famed York Minster Cathedral, is lofty and imposing, and is regarded as the finest effort in this style of architecture in the United States. It is built of brick, roughcast, and colored brown, giving the idea of uncut stone. Exteriorly the building is impressive and solemn ; the tower massive, lofty and majestic, is considered one of the most beautiful on the continent, and being of great height from its summit, which is accessible by a spiral stairway in the interior, commands a complete view of the city and suburbs for miles around. In grave and quiet grandeur, the inside of the church is in perfect accord with its outward appearance; the altars and their appointments being rich and elegant, but not showy. Behind the main altar is a very large and speaking picture of the Transfiguration ; at the right side, of the same altar, there is one of St. Peter walking on the waves. To the left side is one representing St. Patrick baptizing the Queens of Ireland in the famed Halls of Tara.

St. John's Church is situated on Dryades street, between Clio and Calliope streets, is built in the Renaissance style, and is of imposing grandeur and lofty proportions, measuring one hundred and seventy-two by seventy-five feet. The ceiling, groined and arched, is fifty-five feet in height from the floor, the groins supported by massive and graceful columns. The pews are black walnut with mahogany trimmings. The organ is of powerful and rich tone.

All the decorations of the church are in the Renaissance style. The altars are of pure white Italian, ana green and gold Irish marble.

The corner-stone was laid in October, T869, and the church dedicated in January, 1872.

St. Alphonsus Church is situated on Constance, between St. Andrew and Josephine street. It is built in the Renaissance style, and is exceedingly spacious and elegant in design, seventy by one hundred and fifty feet. The front has two lofty towers.

The building was commenced April 21, 1855, blessed August 2d, 1857, consecrated April, 25, 1858, and the interior finished, 1866-67. It contains three magnificent altars. The pulpit and altar rails are also of wood richly carved, and of the most exquisite workmanship. There' is, behind the main altar, a picture, executed in Rome, representing the patron saint of the church, of life size.

The ceiling and wall are frescoed and gilded in the most elaborate and artistic manner by Canova, a nephew of the celebrated sculptor. The frescoes on the ceiling represent the Holy Family, the Twelve Apostles, the' Evangelists, the Mysteries of Religion, the Ascension of Our Lord, the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin, and the Coronation of St. Alphonsus in Heaven, all admired as rare masterpieces.

The description of the Catholic churches of New Orleans would not be complete without

some account of the mortuary chapel of St. Roch, the most picturesque of all the religious buildings of the city.

Washington avenue, Solidelle, Prosper and Music streets, Third district, bound the Campo Santo Catholic Cemetery to the Church of Holy Trinity. Here, within the cemetery, at the extreme edge of a sparsely settled district, rises the beautiful brown stuccoed Gothic chapel of St. Roch, against a background of common and swamp.

This chapel has been erected to the pious philanthropist, St. Roch. Early in the eighth century the city of Munich w T as scourged by the plague. This man nursed the abandoned sick until stricken himself. Then, accompanied by his dog, he wandered off to be cured by the ministering of his faithful companion, who licked his sores. He returned to the suffering, and in gratitude devoted the remainder of his life to the sick.

The cemetery is small and partly filled with graves and tombs, and in one corner a wilderness of sunflowers—sunflowers big and small, bowing obsequiously to their god! A broad shell walk to the chapel in the rear is divided midway by the cross upon Mount Calvary and a stone sundial. " Solar time " is graven upon it; it keeps no record of silence and darkness, only of sunshine and brightness, marking no hours of gloom in the pathway to the grave.

This ivy-grown chapel is the most beautiful church in New Orleans, with its stained glass windows and walls of tombs. The lower front is inclosed by high gateways of light iron bars through which glimmer the ever-burning candles. Within, the pavement is white marble, the side walls composed of tiers of vaults where are buried the members of the societies of St. Anne and St. Joseph. Over them are placed stained glass-windows to each patron saint. The altar is decorated with vases and flowers in great profusion. Under the marble floor of the altar is buried a Benedictine missionary, who died in St. Landry parish, where he had gone to found a monastery. Above the altar is the shrine of St. Roch, a cavalier, staff in hand, his dog at his side. Upon the shrine hang numerous little marble tablets—" merci "—thank offerings for cures effected by the intercession of the good saint. A large marble foot and two tiny wax feet suspended by ribbons were given by persons miraculously cured. The first was from a Protestant gentleman, whose foot was crushed in a railroad accident. His mother performed a nov-ena, which is a daily prayer said from nine to twelve days. The others were returns for an answer to a novena for a little boy paralyzed from birth.

St. Roch is looked upon as the "special protector against epidemics," and the following prayer, printed in French and English, hangs upon his chapel wall:

"O, great St. Roch, deliver us, we beseech thee, from the scourges of God. Through thy intercessions, preserve our bodies from contagious diseases, and our souls from the contagion of sin. Obtain for us salubrious air; but, above all, purity of heart. Assist us to make good use of health, to bear suffering with patience, and, after thy example, to live in the practice of penance and charity, that we may one day enjoy the happiness which thou hast merited by thy virtues.

" St. Roch, pray for us " (three times).

There is a belief among the girls of the Third district, where this church is situated, that, if they pray in it regularly each evening, they will have a husband before the year is out. At the evening hour, therefore, the church will always be found crowded with a bevy of fair damsels.


Springing into life, as New Orleans did, under the dominion of Louis XIV.; nursed and nourished by his Most Catholic Majesty of Spain, this city and this State entered the Union as a community of Catholics alone. The richness of Louisiana's fields and prairies were temptations that the Anglo-Saxons of the more northern States could not resist, and as soon as the pen of Napoleon had signed away this empire of the Mississippi, hordes of these adventurers oame

drifting down the river to seek a fortune in this new land, bringing very little with them, save their religion.

When these new arrivals had come to form an element of the population they met in council, and it was resolved to form a congregation and build a church for the use of all denominations of Protestants. In 1805, after some outside discussion on this point, a meeting of the most prominent citizens interested in the Protestant religion was held at the house of Madame Fourage and preliminary steps were taken to form a regular organization, engage the services of a minister and erect such an edifice as would suit their meagre requirements. Many other meetings followed, whilst a committee was soliciting and obtaining subscriptions for their cherished desire.

On the 9th and 16th of June, meetings were held, at which the {report of the committee was received. At the meeting of June 16th, an election to decide the denomination of the clergyman was held, and resulted in a majority for the Episcopalians. The ballot was as follows : Episcopalians, 45 votes ; Presbyterians, 7 ; Methodist, 1. Total, 53 votes. On November 16th of the same year, a meeting was held, at which two wardens and thirteen vestrymen were elected, and a salary of two thousand dollars a year voted to the Kev. Philander Chase, who, at the recommendation of the Right Rev. Bishop Moore and others, had come to take charge of this germ congregation.

By resolutions passed at a meeting held April 2d, 1806, the Rector was placed under the ecclesiastical government of the Bishop and convention of New York, until a diocese should be organized in the Territory of Louisiana.

After six years of hard service in Louisiana, the Rev. Mr. Chase resigned and returned to New York. For a few years after his departure the condition of the congregation was not at all promising. They had been unable to build a church, and they were now without a minister. But in 1814, a sort of reaction or reawakening occurred, and contributions rapidly poured in. The Reverend Mr. Hull, not an officiating minister of the Episcopal Church until two years afterwards, was invited at a handsome salary to take charge of the infant ohurch. With Mr. Hull's life is associated all the earlier memories of the church. He presided when joy or sorrow clouded the lives of the people he taught, and worked with all his zeal until he could no longer work. It is to be noted also that while he was at the head of the church it was open to all denominations of Protestants, and that the Presbyterians of the city for a long time held their religious services there.

In 183.2, after nineteen years of labor, he was compelled by illness to give up his duties, and was voted a life annuity by the congregation. But illness overpowered him, and six months afterwards he was in his grave, regretted by all who had known him. It had been the fond hope and desire of Mr. Hull to have seen his congregation gathered in a more suitable building, but in this he was disappointed. A few years after his death a new church was erected in the Ionic style of architecture ; indeed it was a facsimile, at least so far as its exterior architecture was concerned, of the Jewish synagogue on Carondelet near Julia. This edifice was situated on the corner of Bourbon and Canal streets. Several ministers presided over this church—Bishop Brownell of Connecticut, and the Rev. Drs. Wheaton, Ramsey and Hawkes.

The church was found, however, to be too central, that is, too near the business portion of the city. The lot on which the property was situated is now ornamented by the Touro building, and at that time belonged to that philantropist and Israelite, Judah Touro. Touro allowed the congregation to have the building free of rent for many years, until at last he found that it would be proper to move it. To this congregation, which his assistance had so long protected and benefitted, he proposed the erection of a more ambitious church further down Canal street, and his name headed the list of subscribers for the erection of the new church, an example of, perhaps, the greatest charity that has adorned the pages of history.

An agreement was made with Mr. J. Gallier, an architect of no little fame, and whose works

cover almost every square of the city, to erect the present edifice (Christ Church) at the cornef of Canal and Dauphine streets, for $50,000.

In the year 1847 the Church of the Holy Trinity, now Trinity Church, or, as it is called, " the Church of the Bishops," since nearly all of its ministers have been elected to bishoprics, was incorporated, and a small church on the corner of Second and Live Oak streets, was built at a cost of $1,800. The first rector was the Rev. C. P. Clark, who officiated two years and four months. After he resigned, the interest in this good work flagged, and the vestry was disposed to abandon the enterprise, but Bishop Polk introduced to several of them the Rev. F. D. Dobb, who took charge of the parish in 1851, soon after which the name was changed to Trinity Church.

In 1851 the lots now owned by Trinity Church were purchased and a portion of the present edifice was erected by Mr. George Purvis, the architect. The cost of the lots was $5,000, and of the building $17,500; total, $22,500.

From 1853 to 1855 the parish was temporarily supplied. In the latter year Bishop Polk was called to the rectorship, the duties of which he continued to discharge until he felt it to be his duty to lay aside the surplice and don the uniform of a Confederate general.

At the cessation of hostilities, in 1865, and after the return of members to their home or church, the Rev. Dr. John W. Beckwith, the present Bishop of Georgia, was requested to take charge of this parish. He served for two years and seven months, during which time the congregation increased so that it was deemed wise to extend the building 32 feet in the rear, which cost $25,000.

In December, 1868, the Rev. Dr. John N. Galleher, the present Bishop of Louisiana, was called to the parish, under whose ministry in 1870 Trinity Chapel on Rampart street was purchased and improved at a cost of $16,000. Rev. Dr. Galleher resigned in 1871 to take charge of a church in Baltimore. He was succeeded by the Rev. S. S. Harris, now Bishop of Michigan.

In 1873, during this gentleman's pastorate, the original front was taken down and a new one erected, costing $16,000. He resigned in 1875, having served three years and ten months. He removed to Chicago and became rector of St. James Church.

Then followed Dr. Hugh Miller Thompson, now Assistant-Bishop of Mississippi.

The antique, magnificent memorial window in this church, " Erected for the glory of God, and in memory of Leonidas Polk, D. D., first Bishop of Louisiana, by the ladies of the Bishop Polk Society," is the only one of the kind on the continent. The art of producing such work as this window was known in the Middle Ages, but lost for centuries, and has but quite recently been restored.

Two scenes from the passion of our Saviour, and one of His triumphs are represented, The Last Supper, The Crucifixion, and The Ascension. In the first-named scene, the Lord is represented, as usual, in the act of breaking and distributing the bread of life to his disciples, " John, the beloved," leaning on his blessed Master, the other Apostles sitting or reclining in reverently attentive positions, showing fear. The Crucifixion tells the wonderful tale that can only be told in one way : the cross and victim, the soldiers, the three Marys, and the " multitude afar off.'"

The first successful effort to plant Presbyterianism in the city of New Orleans originated with the Congregationalists of New England. Near the beginning of the year 1817, the Rev. Elias Cornelius was appointed by the Connecticut Missionary Society, to engage in a missionary tour through the Southwestern States, more especially to visit New Orleans, then containing a population of 30 to 34,000, and with but one Protestant minister, the Rev. Dr. Hull; to examine its moral condition, and, while preaching the Gospel to many who seldom heard it, to invite the friends of the Congregational Presbyterian communion to establish a church, and secure an able and faithful pastor. In this tour, Dr. Cornelius acted also as agent for the A. B. C. F. M., to solicit funds for the evangelization of the Indian tribes. In this work he was eminently successful—devoting an entire year to a lengbtened tour from Massachusetts to Louisiana—

collecting large sums for the American Board, and arrived in New Orleans on the 30th December, 1817.

The most important service rendered by Dr. Cornelius, however, was that of introducing the Rev. Sylvester Larned to this field of labor. In passing through New Jersey, on his journey southward, Dr. Cornelius formed the acquaintance of Mr. Larned, then finishing his divinity course at Princeton, and giving in the reputation acquired as a student, brilliant promise of a successful career as a preacher. The arrangement was there formed between the two that Mr. Larned should follow Dr. Cornelius to New Orleans. He reached the city January 22, 1818.

Through the antecedent preparation of his friend, Dr. Cornelius, who had preceded him exactly three weeks—and still more by his own splendid attractions—overtures were soon made to him for a permanent settlement. Subscriptions were circulated for the building of a church edifice, which by the 5tb of April amounted to $16,000. It was proposed, as soon as the subscriptions were completed, to negotiate a loan of $40,000, the estimated cost of a building 60x90 feet, with about 2,000 sittings. Considering the infancy of the enterprise, the largeness of these plans betokens great vigor of effort, and the confidence felt of final success in collecting and maintaining a flourishing church. In this costly undertaking, generous assistance was received from the City Council in the grant of two lots of ground valued at $6,000, and in a subsequent loan of $10,000. In the erection of the building, Mr. Larned's spiritual labors were interrupted during the summer of 1818 by a visit north, for the purpose of soliciting money, and also of purchasing materials for building.

On the 8th January, 1819, the corner-stone of the new edifice was laid with imposing ceremonies (and in the presence of an immense throng),, on the site selected on St. Charles street, between Gravier and Union, and on the 4th July following, was solemnly dedicated.

On August 21,1820, Dr. Larned died at the early age of 24, of the prevailing yellow fever.

Mr. Larned's successor, after an interval of eighteen months, was the Rev. Theodore Clapp, a native of Massachusetts, and a graduate of Yale College and of the Theological Seminary at Andover.

On the third Sabbath after his arrival in New Orleans he was unanimously chosen to fill the vacant pulpit. Finding the church embarrased by a debt of $45,000 he naturally hesitated, and finally made its liquidation the condition of his acceptance of the call. The trustees made application to the Legislature of Louisiana, then in session, for a lottery ; which being sold to Yates & Mclntyre of New York for $25,000, relieved the pressure of debt to that amount. For the remaining $20,000 the building was sold to Judah Touro, Esq., a merchant of wealth, whose magnificent charities have left his name in grateful remembrance to the people of New Orleans. It may be well to state here, though a little in advance of dates, that Mr. Touro held the building to the time of its destruction by fire, allowing the income from pew rents to the use of the minister, and incurring the expense of keeping it in repair.

In 1832 occurred the difference between Dr. Clapp and his congregation which resulted in their separation. In January, fifteen members were dismissed at their own request for the purpose of forming another church, upon the principles of the doctrine and discipline of the Presbyterian church. This seceding body worshipped in a warehouse of Mr. Cornelius Paulding, opposite Lafayette square, on the site covered by the First Presbyterian church.

The Rev. Mr. Parker, who followed Mr. Clapp, walked from his home in Vermont to Union college, at Schenectady, New York. He represented to the professors that his father was e poor farmer, and a revolutionary soldier; that he could not afford to furnish the money required for his education, but that if they would give him work he would try and repay them for the trouble and expense of his graduation. The professors were pleased with his determination, and Parker studied for the ministry.

In the summer of 1834 he was sent North for the purpose of soliciting subscriptions in the larger cities, for the purpose of obtaining, if possible, a sum sufficient to finish the church then building. While on the tour it was represented that he had stated " that there were 40,000 Catholics

in the city of New Orleans who were atheists, and that the Protestants were no better." This statement was published in the newspapers, and copied into the New Orleans Bulletin, creating great excitement and indignation. Mr. Parker replied to the charges made in one of the newspapers North, denying that he had made any such statement. The Mayor of this city advised that "that priest" be sent away, and a proclamation was issued commanding the peace. When it was known that he was returning to this city, word was sent to the Balize that he be landed before the arrival of the packet in New Orleans, and Mr. Parker was accordingly put off at the English Turn. The next day he arrived in New Orleans, and appeared upon the streets to vindicate his innocence. A meeting was called the next day at the City Hotel, at which Mr. Parker was requested to explain. He made a clear statement, but the people were not satisfied. Resolutions were drawn up and passed, that he leave the city, that the elders of the church dismiss him, etc. A meeting of the members of the church was immediately called. Fifty attended. They one and all supported Mr. Parker as being in the right. They all believed his representation made at the City Hotel, and declared they had a right to have for a pastor whom they pleased and they intended to maintain that right. Mr. Parker was retained, and the affair blew over.

The congregation now commenced the erection of the church on Lafayette square. The base of that building was completed and first occupied in March, 1835. Its total cost, including the site, was $57,000. Subsequent improvements were made, which made the cost $75,000 by 1854, when the building was destroyed by fire. The congregation, however, proceeded at once to build another of larger proportions and more finished in style. In 1857 the present church was finished and dedicated to the worship of God. Its cost, with all its appointments, was about $87,000.

On the twenty-first September, 1854, a call was made out to the Rev. B. M. Palmer, of South Carolina, which upon being presented before his Presbytery and Synod, was defeated by the refusal of those bodies to place it in his hands. The call was renewed on the sixteenth of March, 1856, and prevailed. His labors began early in December of that year, and on the 28th of the same month he was installed by the Presbytery of New Orleans.

In January, 1845, a church was built by the Presbyterians of Lafayette on Fulton, between Josephine and St. Andrew. This church building was also destroyed by fire on Sunday night. November 18,1860, and the congregation assembled for worship in Union Hall on Jackson street until the Federal occupation of the city in May, 1862. After the war the congregation held its services in the First German Church on First street, until April 1867, when they entered then-present comfortable and handsome building on Magazine street, above Jackson, which was dedicated on April 14. The cost of this structure, with ground, is about $45,000.

The original Methodist Church South stood at the corner of Carondelet and Poydras street, and w T as razed to earth by a destructive fire. It is worthy of note that another church succumbed to the flames at the same time, having been fired in the same way—by sparks from the burning St. Charles hotel. This was Dr. Clapp's Church, which was situated at the corner of Gravier and St. Charles streets.

Instead of building a new church on the ruins of the old, the ground of the Methodist Church was divided into house lots and sold. With the proceeds of the sale and some liberal benefactions made by wealthy members of the congregation the present site of the Carondelet Methodist Church was purchased and the builder set to work to make a new structure. This involved an immense amount of money, all of which was raised by private donation.

When the w T alls of the church had been raised and the roof put on, an accident of a very costly and dangerous character occurred. The entire roof fell in, and what was most remarkable was that not a brick in the walls was displaced by the circumstance. The walls w 7 ere evidently as firm as intended, but the roof was as palpably defective, but, providentially the expense of building a new roof was the only grievance resulting from the accident.


A visit to the Greek Church of the Holy Trinity, on Dolhonde near Barracks, will be found interesting. It stands in a little church-yard—a, small brick structure, with a bit of a house for the priest, by its side. A Greek flag, at half-mast, hangs from a tall staff by the front door.

The church consists of a small square room, with vaulted ceiling; its furniture, two reading desks, a baptismal font, the ark, a large cross bearing the crucified Saviour, and two candle-stands. The ark resembles a bier supporting a miniature two-story Greek temple. On the upper part is the story of Christ's condemnation, agony, last supper and crucifixion. Most notable is the first little picture, wherein Pontius Pilate is to be seen literally "washing his hands " of the whole affair.

The back of the church is separated by a partition on which hang four paintings, singular in their lack of perspective. Two doors, one on either end, holds each a picture, one of St. Michael the other of Gabriel. Both dance upon clouds, but Gabriel, deprived of his trumpet, waves a bunch of flowers.

Another picture represents Herodias dancing off the head of John the Baptist. It is a curious and very antique picture, and guilty of a strange anachronism, for Herod and the party are represented seated at table.

Midway of the partition is an opening veiled with a banner bearing a picture of Christ partaking of the sacrament ; around it in Russian : "lie who takes the sacrament never dies.' 1 ''

The baptismal font for babies looks like a magnified hour glass. There is a large one for grown people. Baptism, both for the young and old, is by immersion.

Chairs are brought in by obliging neighbors for the women and the guests. The devout gather candle in hand, and with many genuflections, each piously kisses a sacred spot upon the paintings, the infant Jesus' toe seeming the most popular.

Scarcely a Greek nose was to be seen. Bronzed faces, toil-hardened hands, relieved hy shirts of blue and red, plaid and plain, are illuminated by the upheld torches.

The services opening, the men range themselves in single file along the wall, the females and visitors occupying chairs on the other side. The banner is drawn aside, revealing an altar before which stands a priest. His face is Hebraic, his robe, of dark blue and white, fitted on very much after the fashion of Dakota Indians, by a convenient hole in one end. A long scarf of pale blue and white satin hangs over his capacious front.

Concluding a short chant, he comes among the people, lifting the cross, and kissing the wounds upon the body.

After a few more chants and reading of Scriptures, the holy ark, preceded by the priest, is borne out by four strong men, all chanting the Kyrie Eleison, " Lord, have mercy upon us."

A long reading of the Scriptures follows, interrupted by admonitions in modern Greek from his reverence to his delinquent clerks.


The first Jewish synagogue in New Orleans was erected on the corner of Bourbon and Canal streets. The ground being paid for the synagogue was erected at a cost of $70,000 contributed wholly by Judah Touro, who presented the building to the congregation " Dispersed of Judea." The property was subsequently sold, and the church known as the Touro synagogue, on Carondelet street, between Julia and St. Joseph, erected with its proceeds.

In the year 1864 a proposed secession from the orthodox church in this city agitated the minds of those who are called the Reform Jews. At the time when the proposition was first made, it did not receive enough attention to authorize the withdrawal from the orthodox church. But in the year 1871, a second call was made by the Reformers, and twenty-six persons answered the call, The result was the determination to build for themselves a temple,

which would be called the Reform Temple Sinai; and one hundred and fifty names were enrolled as members of the prospective church.

In the meanwhile, during the New Year and the feast of the Atonement, Minerva Hall was used by the members for the usual religious exercises of that day. On the 13th November, however, the church was finished, and the event celebrated by a grand ball. The Rev. J. K. Gutheim, one of the most eloquent speakers in this country, who had been a rabbi for many years in the Rampart street synagogue, and who was then presiding over the splendid Temple Emanuel in New York, was at once procured as pastor. Since then service and lessons have been held regularly.

The position of the Temple Sinai is extremely well calculated to give effect to its magnificent and well proportioned dimensions. At the distance of many squares froui the building the eye can rest upon the gentle acclivity of the broad and elegant building, with marble steps leading to a wide and beautifully arched portico, which is supported by graceful columns of the Corinthian order.

On each side of the entrance rises an octagonal tower, not obelisk-like steeples, but plain, substantial towers, that might have adorned some Byzantine cathedral, or served as turrets for a Front de Boeuf. Each tower has its own eight windows, and countless lesser eyelets lighted up by the rays of the dying sun. Each is fringed with all the circles, curves and scallops of Byzantine and Gothic architecture, and capped by mosque-like green minarets. All this gives it an Oriental look, to which the checkered mosaic work of its red and yellow bricks greatly adds.


The colored population of New Orleans possess nearly as many churches as the whites, and they are generally crowded, nearly all the negroes being enthusiastic church members.

Their churches are, with few exceptions, simple plank structures. As a general thing the colored ministers are very sensible men, and certainly earnest and devoted.



Amiazion (colored)—Deslonde, between Burgundy and Rampart.

Coliseum Place— Camp, corner of Terpsichore.

Fifth African— Howard, between Jackson and Philip.

First African— 224 Howard.

First African —Gretna.

First— Austerlitz, between Constance and Magazine.

First— Magazine, corner of Second.

First Free Mission (colored)—371 Common.

First Free Mission— Broadway, between Market and Magazine.

First Free Mission— Adams, between Burthe and Third (Carrollton).

Good Hope Second Baptist —Pacific avenue, corner of Jackson (Algiers).

Mt. Moriah— Walnut, between Wall and Esther.

Mt. Sinai Baptist— Vallette, corner of Eliza (Algiers).

Mt. Zion (colored)—Vallette, between Alix and Evelina (Algiers).

Nazareth (colored)—Josephine, between Annette and St. Anthony.

New Hope— Gretna.

Pilgrim— Newton, between Monroe and Franklin Algiers),

Second African Baptist —393 Melpomene,

Second African— Gretna.

Second— Laurel, between Berlin and Milan.

Second Free Mission— Burdette, between Fourth and Plum.

Second Free Will— Urquhart, between Marigny and Mandeville.

Seventh (colored)—Washington, between North Robertson and Claiborne.

Shiloh (colored—Perdido, between South Roche blave and South Dolhonde.

Sixth— Rousseau, between Felicity and St. Mary.

St. John's (colored)—First, between Hervard and French.

St. John's (colored)—St. Louis, between North Tonti and North Rocheblave.

St. Luke's— Cypress, between Prieur and Johnson.

St. Mark's Fourth African— Magnolia, between Common and Gravier.

St. Peter's (colored)—Cadiz, corner of Coliseum.

Third African— 310 North Roman, between Laliarpe and Columbus.

Union (colored)—427 St. Peter.

Union (colored)—305 Orleans.

Zion Traveler (colored)—Water, between Walnut and Chestnut.

Zion Traveler Branch (colored)—Laurel, between Amelia and Peniston.


Diocese of New Orleans (Roman Catholic)—280 Chartres. Residence of Archbishop and Archiepiscopal Church of St. Mary.

Annunciation— Mandeville, corner of Marais. (French and English.)

Chapel of the Ursuline Convent— Third District, at lower end of city. (French and English.)

Church of the Holy Name of Mary— Verret, between Alix and Eliza (Algiers).

Church of the Sacred Heart of Jesus— Canal, between Lopez and Rendon. (French and English.)

Holy Trinity (German)—St. Ferdinand, between Royal and Dauphin.

Jesuits' College and Church of the Immaculate Conception —Baronne, between Canal and Common. (French and English.)

Mater Dolorosa— Cambronne, corner of Burthe (Carrollton).

Mt. Carmel Chapel— 53 Piety.

Notre Dame de Bon Secours (French)—Jackson, between Laurel and Constance.

Our Lady of the Sacred Heart— North Claiborne, corner of Annette.

St. Alphonsus— Constance, between St. Andrew and Josephine.

St. Ann's— St. Philip, between Roman and Prieur. (French and English.)

St. Anthony's (Italian)—N. Rampart, corner of Conti.

St. Augustine's— Hospital, corner of St. Claude (French).

St. Boniface (German)—North Galvez, corner Laharpe.

St. Francis de Sales— Second, corner St. David.

St. Henry's (German)—Berlin, between Constance and Magazine.

St. John the Baptist— Dryades, between Calliope and Clio.

St. Joseph's— Gretna.

St. Joseph's— Common, between Howard and Viileie.

St. Louis Cathedral— Chartres, between St. Ann and St. Peter. Cathedral churoh of the city. (French and English.)

St. Mary's Assumption (German)—Josephine, between Constance and Laurel.

St. Mary's (Archbishop's residence)—Chartres, between Ursulines and Hospital.

St. Mary's —Cambronne, between Second and Burthe (Carrollton).

St. Maurice's— Hancock, corner of Royal.

St. Michael's— Chippewa, between Orange and Race.

St. Patrick's —Camp, between Girod and Julia.

St. Peter and St. Paul's— Burgundy, between Marigny and Mandeville.

St. Rose de Lima —Bayou road, between Dolhonde and Broad.

St. Stephen's— Napoleon avenue, corner of Camp.

St. Stephen's (old)—Camp, corner of Berlin.

St. Theresa's— Erato, corner of Camp.

St. Vincent de Paul— Dauphine, between Montegut and Clouet

Trinity —Cambronne, near Second (Carrollton).

CHRISTIAN. First Christian Church— Camp, corner of Melpomene.


Algiers (colored)—Vallette, near Eliza.

Carrollton— Hampson, between Burdette sud Adams (Carrollton).

Central Church (colored)—South Liberty, corner of Gasquet.

Howard (colored)—Spain, between Rampart and St. Claude.

Morris Brown Chapel, No. 2 (colored)—471 Villere.

Morris Brown Church (colored)—Marais, between Bourbon and Union.


Annunciation— Race, corner of Camp.

Calvary— Prytania, corner of Conery.

Christ— Canal, corner of Dauphine.

Mt. Olivet— Peter, corner of Olivier (Algiers.)

St. Anna's— 197 Esplanade.

St. George's— St. Charles, corner of Cadiz.

St. John's— Third, corner of Annunciation.

St. Paul's— Camp, corner of Gaiennie.

St. Philip's— Prytania, corner of Calliope.

Trinity Chapel —South Rampart, corner of Euterpe.

Trinity— Jackson, corner of Coliseum.


Bethlehem— 368 Felicity.

German Evangelical— Jackson, corner of Chippewa.

First— Milan, corner of Camp.

German Protestant— Zimpel, between Leonidas aud Monroe (Carrollton),

German Protestant— Gretna.

German Protestant— Clio, between St. Charles aud Carondelet.

Madison Street— Madison, between Burthe and Third (Carrollton).

GREEK. Gbebb ihikiu of tue Huly Trinity— North Delhonde, between Barracks and Hospital,


JEWISH. Chbvrb Rbdushe Mikveh Israel Syxagogue —165 Dryades. Dispersed op Judah— 218 Carondelet.

Gates of Prayer— Jackson, between Chippewa and Annunciation, Temple of Sinai— Carondelet, between Delord and Calliope. The Right Way— Carondelet, between Poydras and Lafayette.


Evangelical Lutheran St. Paul's —426 North Claiborne.

First Evangelical Lutheran— Camp, corner of Soniat.

Mt. Zion Evangelical Lutheran— Erato, between South Peters and Tchoupitoulas.

St. John's— Customhouse, corner of North Prieur.

St. Paul's— Port, corner of Burgundy.

Trinity— Olivier, corner of Eliza (Algiers).

Zion— St. Charles, corner of St. Andrew.

Emanuel's Evangelical Lutheran— St. Louis, between Johnson and Pri»u?.


Ames Chapel— St. Charles, corner of Calliope.

Clinton Street (colored)—Clinton, corner of Pearl (Carrollton).

First German.— South Franklin, corner of St. Andrew.

First Street (colored)—Winan's Chapel, Dryades, corner of First.

Jefferson Street German —Jefferson, corner of Plum (Carrollton).

Laharpe Street (colored)—Laharpe, between North Roman and North Prieur,

Mount Zion (colored)—Jackson, near Locust.

Mount Zion (colored)—Desire\ between Marais and Urquhart.

Pleasant Plains Chapel (colored)—290 Perdido.

Plum Street— Plum, between Leonidas and Monroe (Carrollton),

Second German— Eighth, corner of Laurel.

Sixth Street— Sixth, between Annunciation and Laurel.

Simpson Chapel (colored)—Valence, between Camp and Chestnut.

Soule Chapel (colored)—66 Marais.

St. James African— North Roman, between Customhouse and Bienville.

Third German— North Rampart, between St. Ferdinand and Press.

Thompson Chapel (colored)—Rampart, corner of Washington.

Union Bethel (colored)—South Franklin, corner of Thalia.

Union Chapel (colored)—Bienville, between Villere and Marais.

Union Chapel— 181 Union, Third district.

Wesley Chapel (colored)—South Liberty, between Perdido and Poydrae.

Zion African— Frenchman, corner of Josephine.


Algiers— Lavergne, corner of Delaronde (Algiers).

Carondelet Street.— 147 Carondelet.

Craps Street-575 Burgundy.

Dryades Street German— Dryades, between Euterpe and Felicity,

FBLicrfY—Felicity, corner of Chestnut.

Little Betbel— Coliseum, between Valence and Bordeaux.

Louisiana Avenue— Louisiana avenue, corner Magazine.

Mokeau Street -Chartres (late Moreau), corner of Lafayette avenue.

Sobaparu— Soraparu, between Chippewa and Annunciation.

St. Charles Street— St. Charles, corner of Gen. Taylor.

St. John's Chapel (colored)—Market, near Powderhouse (Algiers).


Canal Street— Canal, corner of Derbigny. First German Presbyterian— First, near Laurel. First Presbyterian— Lafayette square, corner of Church and South.

First Presbyterian Church of Carrollton— Burdette, between Hampson and Second (Carroll ton).

Franklin Street Memorial Church —South Franklin, corner Euterpe.

Lafayette Presbyterian Crurch —Magazine, between Jackson and Philip.

Napoleon Avenue Presbyterian Church— Napoleon avenue, corner of Coliseum.

Prytania Street— Prytania, corner of Josephine.

Seamen's Bethel— St. Thomas, between Jackson and Philip.

Second German Presbyterian— St. Bernard, corner of North Claiborne.

Third Presbyterian— Washington Square.

UNITARIAN. Church of the Messiah— St. Charles, corner of Julia.



The Ursuline Convent is one of the educational institutions that have been closely identified with the history of New Orleans from almost its first settlement.

Bienville, the founder of the city of New Orleans, in 1718, soon decided he must have some one to educate the girls of his colony. He consulted Father Beaubois, a superior of the Jesuits, who had recently arrived, as to what he should do. The zealous Father suggested the Ursulines of Eouen as likely to be able to supply religious teachers, and to them application was immediately made. As a result of this effort, a lady bearing the singular name of Tranchepain (slice of bread), a converted Protestant and a professed Ursuline, left France, with nine professed companions, one novice, and two servants, in the ship Gironde, from Port L'Orient, February 22. 1727.

The Gironde was provisioned as for a siege, but the accommodations for passengers were wretched. During the voyage they encountered terrific storms, were pursued by corsairs, and at one time all the ladies had to assume male attire and man the ship to save her from pirates. The ship, after meeting fearful winds in the Caribbean Sea, and being stranded on Dauphin Island, and losing nearly all her cargo, reached Louisiana in July.

At the Balize the travelers were transferred to pirogues, their trunks being stored in the centre. At night, as they voyaged up the river, they went ashore and slept, when permitted by the devouring mosquitos. The voyage from France had consumed sir months, and their friends in New Orleans supposed they had perished at sea. After fifteen days of river journeying they reached the scene of their future labors, the village of New Orleans at this time presenting no better aspect than that of a vast sink or sewer. It was surrounded by a large ditch and fenced in with sharp stakes wedged close together. Tall reeds and coarse grasses grew in the streets, and within a stone's throw of the church, which stood on the same block, but in the rear of the present cathedral, reptiles croaked, and malefactors and wild beasts lurked in the centre of the town, protected by an impenetrable jungle. An old picture of the landing of the Ursuline nuns represents them in procession received by Father Beaubois, who presents to them the Capuchin pastors of the place, and points out to them the Indians and the negroes, their future charges. The Ursuline novice stands a little back facing the church ; a negress with a baby in her arms, regards the group with awe and wonderment. A beautiful squaw, decked with beads and shells, and surrounded by plump papooses, half reclines on some logs, while a Congo negro looks on from his seat on the wood-pile. A young girl, Claude Massy, has a cat in her arms, one she has brought from France, and which is, doubtless, the original of all the feline species in Louisiana. Claude is standing near " Sister Annie ;" both are dressed as Norman peasants ; several Jesuits and Capuchins appear in the distance. The whole group is overshadowed by immense trees heavily draped with moss. .

When the first greeting was over the nuns and their companions were conducted to the church, and thence to Bienville's country house, which he generously gave up to them, until their convent should be completed. Bienville's house occupied the square now bounded by Decatur, Bienville, Customhouse and Chartres streets. It was two stories high, with a flat roof, which could be used as a belvidere. It had many windows, which were covered with thin liner., instead of having sash of glass. The ground ftboBt the house was cleared, hut fhQ establisbmeiit w&§ in the depth of the forest.

Almodt mediately the nuns began to instruct the Indians and the Negroes, and to care for the sick. They received under their protection the orphans of the French recently massacred at Natchez, also the FUles-d-la- Cassette, or casket girls, several instalments of which the King of France sent over to provide wives for the colonists. The nuns soon found Gov. Bienville's house too small and removed to a plantation which had been given them by the "Indian Company," where they erected buildings, which were destroyed by fire in 1788.

The first reinforcements to the order came from France in 1734. From these small beginnings the Ursuline nuns have for over 160 years steadily pursued their onward career of helpfulness.


On one of the narrowest of the narrow streets of French town stands the Carmelite Convent —a big, square, old-fashioned French residence. Once, in the gay olden time, carriages used to rattle up to the doorway, and in the luxurious apartments there was music and dancing, and the sound of young girls' voices in laughter, and love makings and marriages.

Now the narrow street, creeping straight out to the river, where tall-masted ships lie at anchor, is become old and silent. Like a beard the moss has grown upon the red-tiled roofs, and the cobble-stones upon which the white sun shines hot and pitiless all the long day are overgrown with coarse grass. There are no longer any rattling carriages to stab the silence that has settled over all, and the old street seems to be sleeping away the afternoon of its life. In the wide room, once a parlor fitted with costly furniture and bronzes, there glitters a gilt and white altar, and the meek figure of blessed St. Teresa looks down on the bended penitents who come there to pray. The old house is silent, but if one listened with delicate ear, one might perhaps hear the murmurous breath of prayer that rises through the bare old rooms where move, as if felt-shodden, the serge-clad, silent, sweet Sisters of Carmel.

To be hungry and cold, to mortify the flesh, to do penance and to pray—to pray for all the sins of the world—this is the holy life of the Carmelite. There are fathers and mothers, dear friends and lovers, who steal down to this house of prayer—this convent home—and pressing their lips to the cruel spiked iron grating that bars the sweet Sisters from the outer world, beg them to pray for the dear ones who are in danger, whom the world or sickness has overcome.

The order of the Carmelite is the most rigid to which a woman may dedicate her life. Saint Teresa, the patron saint of the order, was a lovely Spanish woman, for years so frail in health that she had to be carried in a sheet. After a time strength was given her, for the great work on which her soul was set, and so marvelous was her life, so beautiful her works, that there is no saint in the Church more universally beloved than she who is our blessed mother. Her tomb is in the Spanish land, and a sweet perfume always breathes from about it. Her heart was snatched from her dead body by a nun directed of heaven, and is kept in a silver urn, and there have grown from it fourteen thorns.

When one comes to understand the daily life and methods of the Carmelite, the purposes of her life of sacrifice, pain and prayer, the knowledge is awe-inspiring. Her cry is to "become a victim with Jesus," and to expiate by her never-ceasing prayers and penances the sins and wickedness of those who pray not.

After the Carmelite has passed her novitiate—and many try but few succeed—and has finally renounced the world, no human being save her sisters in prayer ever again looks upon her face.

The dress of the order is the coarsest brown serge—they may wear no linen—and their undergarments are also of serge; even the pooket handkerchiefs being brown clotn. Square pieces of hempen cloth are tied with a bit of rope upon the foot and ankle, and a sandai of knotted cords is worn upon the foot. The outer garment of serge is a loose gown, hanging in straight folds from the neckband to within a couple of inehes of the floor, but confined at the waist by a stout leather girdle or belt. At the waist hangs the rosary. The sleeves, long ana full, fall over the hands, and the face is framed In crtajrcd folds of white Jlaefl. Vpon her head

the Carmelite wears a large square of black serge, which is drawn across her face when she comes into the presence of those who live outside the convent walls, so that only the figure is seen.

At times, when relatives visit the Carmelite the black serge curtain at the iron gratings is gathered aside and the visitor sees through the prison bars in the dim light that filters in through the doorway and outlined against the austere walls of the cells the imposing figure of the nun, clad in coarse serge and cowled and hooded in black, with white hands clasping the cross and beaded chain at her girdle. Perhaps it is a mother for whom the serge curtains are drawn aside. Alas ! for her poor humanity when she gazes with dim eyes on this silent, holy figure, and prays half rebelliously for strength to make the mother-love second in her heart that she may rejoice over the sweet, sacrificial life her darling has chosen.

The Carmelite fasts from the 14th of September until Easter of each year. Her life during this time is crowned every hour with some holy duty. She sleeps in a bare little cell containing a chair, a table, and two low benches, upon which are laid two planks. These planks, covered with straw, form her resting place, and her only covering is a sheet of serge. In the early dawn she rises from this poor bed, and in the still chapel she begins her prayers. The morning until 11 o'clock is spent in meditation, prayer and work. Her cell is put in order, her daily duties accomplished, and when not in the chapel she withdraws to her cell, and there works in solitude. Perhaps she is an artist and makes pictures, or embroiders or knits; but whatever it is, her hands are never idle, and her mind and heart are filled with holy thoughts as a garden in spring is filled with the sweet breath of flowers.

Not by so much as a sup of water does she break her fast until eleven o'clock, and then the little band of brown-robed women meet for the midday meal. They never eat meat, the order forbids it; and they sit at a low, narrow table, eating from the coarsest yellow delft plates, and with an iron or wooden knife and fork. The food is generally rice, beans, other vegetables and soup made without meat. Everything is cooked in the plainest way, and lard is not used, except when they are too poor to cook with oil. This meal is plentiful, and each person eats whatever is put upon her plate, particularly of those things she does not like. A skull and cross-bones are placed at the end of the table, and the nun looks often at the hideous spectacle of that casket which once held so costly a treasure, telling herself that soon she will be so poor a thing as that. The meal is finished in silence, and then for one hour the nuns laugh and talk and play together, working among the flowers in their garden—and having a great deal of bright and cheerful talk. Then they withdraw to their cells, and there is no sound within the convent walls, except when whispered prayers come from the chapel. During this long season of fast, eight hours a day are spent in repeating the services of the church—the Carmelite nuns repeating the same service daily that the priests do—and, like the priests, receiving communion every Sunday morning.

During her entire life the Carmelite lives in this self-sacrificing solitude. She may not even take a drink of water without permission from the Mother Superior, and if the Mother thinks the Sister can bear the thirst a little longer, she will frequently say no, that the lesson of patient endurance may be more faithfully learned.

Self-flagellation is also practiced by these Sisters, and these tender, delicate women tear and beat and break their flesh till the red blood falls, and drops of pain stand on their brows. Sometimes, nay often, the sound of the iron flail striking at her own bare body may be heard in these echoless cloisters, and the voice of the penitent cries out in the prayer, and begs that her penance may be accepted.

Every morning at 7 o'clock in the little convent down in Frenchtown a priest says mass before the gilt and white altar and brown statue of blessed Saint Teresa. The altar is a double one, and extends into the nuns' chapel, where the Sisters are, and strangers and devotees who may be kneeling in the outer chapel have their hearts stirred by the marvelous effect of these invisible Carmelite nuns chanting the mass. It is ohanted entirely on one note, and the effect of

soprano Voices and alto and contralto thus chanting in a minor key the rich musical Words ot the Latin mass is wonderful. Over the altar, high up to the ceiling, is a heavy iron grating, the black curtains are pulled aside, and the voices of the nuns come swelling out a long drawn cry of pain, of peacs and of victory. There are lilies and many pure flowers on the altar to mingle their breath with the odor of incense.

On the Sabbath morning, at 7 o'clock, a very small grating by the side of the altar is drawn open, and here like a framed picture is seen, one after the other, the saint-like faces of these nuns, as with heavy lids fallen upon their eyes, they present themselves for the communion.

At nightfall the nuns again come together for their frugal meal; which cannot be called a meal, since it is only two ounces of bread measured out to each—the weight of four soda crackers in bread—with a drink of poor tea, or sometimes of wine. On Fridays, and all during Lent, black fast is observed : that is, no eggs or milk are used, and at all times these nuns must study to endure the barest poverty—to be hungry and in pain—and so suffering, so emulating the life of Christ, they go to Him with their prayers for other people.

There are many persons, indeed, who give rich gifts to the church in return for the prayers of the Carmelites. At one time news came to her friends in New Orleans of the dangerous illness of one of the sweetest and gentlest poets of the South. These friends went to the Carmelite nuns and besought their prayers, and so the holy Sisters knelt in chapel and cell and told their orisons for the sufferer. When she got well and came one day to New Orleans she went to the Carmelite Chapel and put an offering of Annunciation lilies at the feet of blessed Saint Teresa, and one of the prettiest songs that ever came from the pen of this poetess is about the nuns in the convent chapel saying their prayers for her.

There are only four Carmelite convents in America. The convent in New Orleans has been established but four or five years. All the sisters bear such names as Mary, Dolorosa, etc., which are given them when they finally assume the habit. Several of these ladies are young and wonderfully gifted, with beautiful faces and many accomplishments. They were all women of wealth, who withdrew from the world and who find happiness and the peace that is beyond understanding, in their chosen life. The Mother Superior was once one of the most beautiful and brilliant Creole belles in this gay city, a niece of Governor Roman.


In 1784 Don Andres de Almonaster y Roxas, the wealthiest citizen of Louisiana, contributed some $114,000 toward building a hospital, of which the city was then in great need. This first hospital founded by the munificence of that generous Spaniard was the father of the Charity Hospital of to-day. It was situated on Rampart street, between St. Peter and Toulouse, and was burned in 1809. It was then determined that the hospital to replace it should be erected beyond the city limits, and for this purpose the square of ground now bounded by Canal, Dryades, Baronne and Common streets, in wftat was then known as "the city commons," was purchased; and here, in 1815, the second Charity Hospital was erected. This building was purchased sixteen years later by the State of Louisiana for the University for $125,003. With the proceeds of this sale the present hospital on Common street, between Howard and Freret. was built. The State of Pennsylvania contributed some little aid to the hospital, but Louisiana bore very nearly the entire expense of building it. Among the contributors to the old hospitals, however, those on Rampart and Baronne streets, mention should be made of Julien Poydras. once Mayor of this city, who donated the sum of $35,000; Etienne Bore\ also Mayor, and R. Caune.

The present hospital, which was erected in 1832, covers the entire square bounded by Common, Gravier, Freret and Howard streets, one of the largest in the city, measuring 450 feet front on Common and Gravier, and 420 on the side streets, and containing about four and a half acres.

The hospital consisted originally of only one building, the main or central one. Although forty-seven years old, this building is as strong and substantial to-day as when first erected. The brick work is of extraordinary thickness, and even the walls between the different wards are of brick, and not the usual wood and plaster seen in modern buildings. From this central building the hospital has branched out in every direction. A wing was first added on the left, soon followed by another on the right; then came rooms on the Howard street side for the employees, kitchen, laundry, etc., the engineer's department on Gravier s r reet, and finally the lying-in hospital at the corner of Gravier and Freret.

These various buildings form the four sides of a court, in the centre of which lies the hospital garden, under the especial care and management of a Sister of Charity. It contains probably an acre of ground, prettily laid out in walks bordered with flowers, evergreen shrubs, etc.

In looking over the record of the hospital, the number 38,250, is observed against the last death. One might think this represents the number of deaths that have occurred in the building. It does not. It is only the number of the last corpse which, having no friends or relatives to claim it. has to be cared for by the hospital after death, as it was cared for by it when alive. More than 38,000 bodies have been buried at the expense of the hospital in forty-eight years. The dead are buried just back of St. Patrick's Cemetery, and a board is placed over each grave with the number of the deceased, so that should any friend or relative desire hereafter to remove the remains they can be easily identified.

Besides the inmates of the hospital, there are also a large number of persons who visit every day for treatment. These patients see the house surgeon, who examines into their condition. If he thinks their cases serious, he advises them to go into the hospital; if not, they stay at home and visit the hospital daily or weekly for treatment. The number of persons applying for treatment of this kind runs from thirty-five to forty daily. Taking these patients into account.'the total number of sick persons cared for in the Charity Hospital since the war has not been less than 200,000—nearly as many as the entire population of the city, and since the foundation of the hospital 400,000.

Every day is visiting day at the hospital, from eight a. m. to five p. m. To keep out impertinent, idle and morbidly curious persons, who would otherwise disturb the sick, a tariff of ten cents is charged all persons entering the building. In the case, however, of poor persons, whose relatives are sick, this charge is generally remitted.

In the Charity Hospital the medical students of the University of Louisiana have advantages offered them they can get nowhere else in the world. Here they can see and study nearly every known disease; here are exposed the maladies of tropical and semi-tropical regions, as well as those of the temperate zones. There are always some cases of leprosy there—a rare disease in America. Yellow fever cases are also to be studied, as well as all varieties of malarial fevers.

There is probably no known disease that is not to be seen here each year. Taking up one of the reports published, it will be seen that no less than 776 diseases, or different forms of diseases, are reported as having been treated in the hospital that year, classed as follows:— Diseases of the nervous system, 54 ; of the circulating system, 30 ; respirating system, 35; digestive system, 55; fevers, 14; eruptive fevers, 7 ; diseases of the urinary organs, 41; venereal diseases, 40; diseases of women, 36: of the ear, 8; of the eye, 42; of the nose, 4; cutaneous diseases, 35 ; malignant diseases (such as cancer), 33 ; local diseases and injuries (wounds, etc.), 210; diseases of locomotion, 83 ; toxic diseases, 17. There is but one known disease not treated at the hospital—small-pox. Small-pox patients were formerly admitted to the hospital, and the garret was fitted up for them, but some years ago, under a provision of the Legislature, this was changed, the city was given the control of the question of small-pox, and another hospital, especially designed for persons affected by this disease, was provided elsewhere.

Dissections.— Another great advantage offered medical students by the hospital is in the bedies of patients dying there. These, unless claimed by friends or relatives, go to the college

for dissecting purpose*, so that there is never any lack of "subjects," as in most Western medical colleges. "Resurrecting" can never occur in New Orleans, for the best of reasons-there is no need for grave robbing. These bodies average about three a day, and afford the students the best opportunity to perfect themselves in anatomy.

The revenue of the hospital is about $90,000, from the following sources: Lottery, $10,000; State, in warrants, $50,000; poll taxes, $20,000; auctionees' fees,. $8,000; slaughter-house (half the inspection fees'), $5,000; licenses for balls, $500; gate fees, pay patients, etc., $1,500.


Asylum for Destitute Orphan Boys— St. Charles, between Dufossat and Belleoastle (Jefferson City).

Beauregard Asylum— Pauline, between St. Claude and IS. Rampart.

Boys' House op Refuge— Metairie Road, between Bienville and Conti.

Children's Home, Protestant Episcopal— Jaokson, corner of St. Thomas.

Convent de St. Famille— 172 Hospital.

Convent of Mt. Carmel— Olivier, corner of Eliza (Algiers).

Convent of the Benedictine Nuns— 630 Dauphine, between St. Ferdinand and Press.

Convent of the Good Shepherd— Bienville, between North Dolhonde and North Broad.

Convent of the Redemptorists— Constance, between St. Andrew and Josephine.

Convent of the Sacred Heart— 96 Dumaine.

Convent of Perpetual Adoration— Marais, between Mandeville and Spain.

Convent of the Sisters of Notre Dame— Laurel, between St. Andrew and Josephine.

Convent of the Sisters of the Holy Family— 17 Orleans.

Female Asylum of the Immaculate Conception— 871 North Rampart, corner of Elmira.

Faith Home for the Aged and Destitute— Pitt, corner of Robert.

Fink Home— Camp, between Antonine and Amelia.

German Protestant Asylum— State, between Camp and Chestnut (Burtheville).

Girod Asylum— Metairie Road, between Conti and St. Louis.

Home for the Aged and Infirm— Annunciation, corner Calliope.

Home for the Aged Infirm— North Johnson, corner of Laharpe.

Home of the Aged and Destitute— Magnolia, corner of Laharpe.

House of the Sisters of Christian Charity— Constance, between Berlin and Milan.

House of Refuge for Destitute Girls— Annunciation, corner of Calliope.

House of the Good Shepherd— Bienville, between North Dolhonde and North Broad.

Indigent Colored Orphan Asylum— 393 Dauphine.

Industrial School and Model Farm of Our Lady of the Holy Cross— North Peters, corner of Reynes.

Jewish Widows' and Orphan Asylum— Jackson, corner of Chippewa.

Little Sisters of the Poor— North Johnson, corner of Laharpe.

Louisiana Retreat Insane Asylum— Nashville, corner of Magazine. Conducted by the Sisters of Charity.

Monastery J)iscalced Carmelites— Barracks, between Burgundy and Rampart.

Mt. Carmel Convent— 200 Hospital.

Mt. Carmel Female Orphan Asylum— 53 Piety.

New Orleans Female Orphan Asylum— Clio, between Camp and Prytania.


Poydras Orphan Asylum for Females— Magazine, between Leontine and Peter* Avenue, Jefferson.

Protestant Orphans' Home— Seventh, corner of Constance.

Frottmnoe Asylum for Colored Female Children— Hospital, corner of North Tonti.

SoctSTE Francaisk db Bienfaisance Asylum— St. Ann, between North Derbigny and North Roman.

St. Alphonsus Convent of Mercy— St. Andrew, between Constance and Magazine.

St. Alphonsus Orphan Asyxum— Fourth, corner of St. Patrick.

St. Ann's Asylum— Prytania, corner of St. Mary.

St. Elizabeth Orphan Asylum— Napoleon avenue, corner of Prytania; branch, Magazine, corner of Josephine.

St. Henry's Convent— Constance, between Milan and Berlin.

St. Joseph's Convent— St. Philip, corner of North Galvez.

St. Joseph's Orphan Asylum— Josephine, corner of Laurel. Under direction of the Sisters of Mercy.

St. Mary's Dominican Convent— Dryades, corner of Calliope ; branch, St. Charles, between Broadway and Upper Line.

St. Mary's Orphan Boys' Asylum— Chartres, between Mazant and French avenue.

St. Mater Dolorosa Convent —Cambronne, corner of Third (Carrollton).

St. Patrick's Convent op Mercy— 139 Magazine.

St. Vincent's Half-Orphan Asylum —Cambronne, between Second aad Burthe (Carrollton).

St. Vincent's Home for Destitute Boys— 371 Bienville.

St. Vincent's Infant Orphan Asylum— Magazine, corner of Race.

Ursuline Convent— North Peters, near Manuel.

Widows' and Orphans' Father Turois Asylum (for widows and orphans of the South)— St. Claude, corner of Pauline.



OrrUrleans street, between Royal and Bourbon streets, there now stands a building of un-imposing appearance, whose wide, low facade, utterly devoid of the adorning graces of architecture, is plain to ugliness, and were it not for an aspect of antiquity, the homely structure would scarce attract more than passing notice. Yet, withal, a more attentive survey of the place and its surronndings will not fail to arouse the curiosity of him whose mind is not too deeply absorbed in the pursuit of some all-engaging object.

Upon the vacant space at the corner of the street stood, not many years ago, the old Orleans Theatre, once, in its palmy days, the resort of the fashionable world of French New Orleans. Its walls have rung to the plaudits of brilliant assemblages, where the Creole beauties clapped their jeweled hands and cried their "encores " to some reigning favorite of the stage. Famous singers and celebrated actors have had their triumphs here, on this spot, made desolate by the demon of conflagration. In 1868 the Orleans Theatre was burned to the ground, and the edifice was never rebuilt.

The building referred to was a wing of the theatre, and was saved from the devastating flames. Originally built by subscription about the year 1817, the Orleans Theatre became the property of Davis and Boudousquie, and afterwards of Mr. McDonough, who at his death willed the property to the city of Baltimore in 1859. Additions were made to the portions that remained after the fire, and in 1872 the building was used as the Criminal Court room for the parish of New Orleans. Some years ago the Criminal Courts were transferred to St. Patrick's Hall, and the old Orleans Hall closed its remarkable career by becoming a convent, a function as widely separated from its original one of dance-house as could well be imagined.

When, in the halcyon days of the famous Orleans Ball Room, gorgeous, sensuous women and fiery tempered men were whirling in the giddy mazes of the dance, daggers have flashed in the gaslight, and in the twinkling of an eye the scene is changed, and men rush together into the bloody melee, where often a gory corpse indicated the ferocity of the combatants.

In this ball room, the resort of the demi-monde, the fiercest human passions have run riot, and here have been laid the foundations for future tragedies, fatal duels, or bloody rencontres.

It was in the building next door, destroyed by the fire, that the drama, and particularly the opera most flourished in New Orleans in its earlier days. Nowhere outside of Italy was the opera ever so powerful or so popular as in the Creole city.

The site of the Orleans Theatre was occupied by an edifice erected for dramatic performances in 1813. This was burnt to the ground in 1816, when John Davis erected the Orleans Theatre. The building, which cost $180,000, was in the lower story Roman Doric, above Corinthian Composite. There was in the center a parquette, quite elevated and commodious, with loges grille at the side for persons in mourning. Two tiers of boxes and one of galleries rose above this.

Connected with this edifice and forming part of the same building, was the Orleans ball and supper rooms. A communication existed between this and the theatre. Indeed the parquette of the theatre was frequently floored over and the house occupied as a ball-room, thus furnishing when brilliantly lighted, in connection with the suite adjoining, a coup d'ceil not to be surpassed for effect in America. The ball-rooms were built in 1817.

Obviously strang« as the remark may seem to the average resident of New York, Boston or

other large cities of this country, wrapped up as they are m the magnificence and grandeur of their surroundings, the vastness of their commercial enterprises or their lauded patronage and appreciation of art in all its several branches, it is an undeniable fact that for perfection of detail, completeness of representation and strict adherence to the ideas of the composer, no operatic representations have yet equaled those usually presented at the " Theatre d'Orleans," in the city of New Orleans, in the days preceding our late national unpleasantness.

Not to be a subscriber, or at least a regular attendant at the opera, was tantamout to being ignored by society and looked upon as a person greatly lacking in taste ; whilst, au contraire, a frequent and undeviating appearance, particularly on grand opera nights, tended greatly toward a kindly, hospitable reception into the best French society under the ancien regime. Four operas were given weekly, of which two were grande and two comique, the other two evenings being devoted to vaudeville and musical comediettas by the attendant dramatic portion of the establishment. Tuesdays and Saturdays—especially the latter—were the extremely fashionable nights, on which occasions all patrons were expected to appear in full evening dress, and as these were regular subscription representations, it was a matter of considerable difficulty for a member of the outside world to obtain a seat, except in the parquette, which was always open to the general public ; and even in this democratic locality white kid gloves and full dress coats were almost generally worn by the male portion of the audience.

The choicest places were to be found in the second or dress cirle, which was divided into cosy comfortable stalls, containing four seats, in the rear of which were two rows of single chairs, flanked by a succession of handsome loges, as in the Baltimore Academy of Music. These loges were so arranged that curtains could be drawn before them, at the pleasure of the occupant, and were mostly selected by families not yet past the usual conventional period of mourning, etc., and who were tacitly acknowledged to be in strict privacy, except to those whose visits were made upon special invitation. The comfortable aisles were so constructed that both stalls and loges were easily approachable, and during the intermission were filled with gay gallants, paying their devoirs to the fair occupants of these favored seats.

As a general thing the stalls were taken by parties of four, consisting of a young lady and her male escort, invariably attended by her mother or some elderly friends ; as in no case was it considered allowable for an unmarried girl to appear in public without her "chaperone," or some of her male relatives of nearest kin.

The opera, conversation, the tasteful costumes, and all the accompanying surroundings were invariably French. Now and then the intrusive American would appear upon the surface with different views of propriety, but it took years of endeavor, and a civil war that overthrew all preconceived ideas, to shake the tenacity with which the old French and Creole inhabitants of New Orleans clung to this, their latest and most honored institution. The display of beauty and exquisite taste in dress, on Tuesdays and Saturdays, was something positively startling to a stranger—the jet black hair, the sparkling eyes, the pure complexions, the superb costumes with low-cut corsages and showing the round, beautiful arms, the gay and animated features on all sides, presented a picture which has never been equaled in any other theatre in this country. Never overdressed, and generally wearing white or some other light color, with purest catnelias half hid amidst their brilliant masses of jet blaek hair, they resembled in grouping and appearance the beautiful conception of the artist, Winterhalter, in his celebrated painting of the Empress Eugenie and the ladies of her court. Refinement, intellect and culture were visible on every side, and these brilliant audiences came together not only because it was fashionable to be there, but because they loved the divine art of music, and were, as a general rule, able and conscientious critics of all they heard and saw.

One peculiar custom of the habitues of the "Theatre d'Orleans "—which will seem to the opera goer of the present day as peculiarly eccentric, if not positively objectionable, was the following: The grand operas of Meyerbeer, Halevy, Rossini, etc., were invariably presented in most perfect detail; and in order to accomplish this most thorough rendition the hour of com-

mencement was fixed at half-past 6 o'clock, as several of the favorite works ocoupied nearly five hours in their representation, the curtain generally falling between 11 and 12 o'clock.

A complete outfit expected of a fashionable cavalier was as follows: A stall for four, white kid gloves and bouquets for the ladies, a carriage and coffee ad libitum for the party, or it may be a more expensive supper at Moreau's or Victor's.

The writings of Meyerbeer were preferred before those of any other composer. " Les Huguenots," " Robert le Diable," " L' ^toile du Nord," " Le Prophete," " Le Pardon de Ploermel." "L 1 Africaine," etc., were produced in a style bordering on perfection. All the leading artists were of the very highest rank, the chorus superb, costumes and scenery of the most magnificent character, with an orchestra composed of from sixty to eighty musicians, presided over for many years by that capable conductor and gentleman, Adolph Prevost.

" La Juive " and " Charles VI." by Halevy, were great favorites, as also were " La Vestale," by Spontini, and "Orphee," by Gliick. Scores of lighter operas were given, such as "Si j'etais Roi," "Les Amours du Diable," "Les Dragons de Villus,"etc., in which the second singers acquitted themselves proportionately well with their brother artists of the heavier roles.

Among the principal vocalists, who subsequently came North and appeared in Italian opera, were the majestic Rose De Vries, the original Fides in " Le Prophete," and the charming M'me Pauline Colson, who created the part of Catharine in "L' Etoile du Nord." The two principal tenors were Duluc (robusto) and Bordas (legere); the basses, MM. Genebrel and Junca, altogether constituting a galaxy of artists rarely met together.

For forty years this institution had been supported by subscriptions of the most liberal kind, and each year Managers Davis—father and son—and M. Bodousquie visited Paris and brought back with them the latest operas written.

Nearly all the social rules of the old opera system are still enforced in New Orleans, but not as rigidly as in these days of old. The Orleans theatre, however, was not the first theatre New Orleans boasted of, for as early as 1791, a company of French comedians played there. Strolling players were glad to obtain the use of a warehouse or other building. It was in 18C8, however, that the first regular theatre was erected on St. Philip street.

The newspapers of 1810 make mention of a theatre in St. Peter street that seems to have passed out of existence by the impulse given by rival establishments a few years later. The St. Philip theatre later on became the Washington ball-room, and stood on the spot now occupied by the St. Philip street school-house. The circumstances attending the introduction of the English drama appear not to be very well understood, for a number of writers have with persistent inaccuracy stated that James H. Caldwell was the man who first caused plays to be performed here in the English tongue. This is wrong. The honor of this achievement, without any question, rests with Noah M. Ludlow, who for many years was associated with Sol Smith in the management of the St. Charles theatre, now owned by David Bidwell.

Mr. Ludlow gathered and brought down the river from the Western States a small comedy company in 1817, and opened his dramatic season December 24, at the St. Philip theatre, which at that time was owned by a woman named Coquet. The theatre had two circles and a par-quette, and was capable of seating 700 persons. One dollar was charged as the admission fee to all parts of the house. The opening play was Tobin's comedy, entitled "The Honev Moon," and the cast of characters was as follows:

Duke Aranza « John Vaughn

Rolando N. M. Ludlow

Count Montalban • Mr. Plummer

Belthazar Mr. Lucas

Jaques Mr. Morgan

Lampedo Mr. Henry Vaughn

Juliana Mrs. John Vaughn

Volant© Mrs. Jones

Zamora Mrs. Ludlow

Hoste*,,,, Mrs. Morgan

The afterpieoe was the farce entitled "Hotel: or, Servant with Two Masters." LazarUto Mr. Morgan.

The above bill of the play is copied from Mr. Ludlow's book, and is, without doubt, correct.

There were no plays in the French tongue that year, as the Orleans theatre had been destroyed by fire several months before Mr. Ludlow opened his season. Thus was the English drama planted in New Orleans. The season was successful, and resulted in a profit of $3,000. Of this sum Mr. John Vaughn received $1,000 and Mr. Morgan a like amount, they being equal partners wittt Mr. Ludlow.

There were no English plays given in New Orleans during the season of 1818 and 1819.

It was in 1820, two years after L\idlow's company performed, that James H. Caldwell came to New Orleans and opened the St. Philip street theatre, January 7th, 1820, the bill being " The Honeymoon," and " Three and Duce."

Caldwell, as the founder of the American drama, is deserving of more than a passing notice.

He was a native of Sheffield, a young man of great personal beauty and attractive manners. When quite a youth he had been drawn upon the mimic stage by impulses and aspirations quite common to young men of lively parts and brilliant physical endowments. He had succeeded on the London boards in genteel comedy, and quickly arose, more through his personal than his artistic qualities, to a level with the first-class of star actors in that city. Thus he became the intimate associate and friend of the Kembles, the Keans, of Cooper, of Booth and Farran, and was recognized by them all as their peer and equal. In fact, they admitted that he was far superior to them all in the requisites of a manager, a maestro, a man of business, who could support their brilliant qualities and place them in the road to fortune and renown.

They had all exhausted their resources and their renown in old England. They must look to "fresh woods and pastures new" wherein to resuscitate their fortune. Where could they find such new woods and pastures save in the growing and prospering Anglo colonies of America f

James H. Caldwell was a prompt and energetic man. He was quick to perceive and appreciate the opening in the States for theatrical success and distinction.

He rallied a band of practiced and accomplished actors around him, who agreed to engage with him in the venture of introducing and establishing in the States a first-class dramatic company, which should present to their new, fresh and enthusiastic communities dramatic exhibitions equal to those which for so many years had satisfied the demands of London tastes.

This company was a very select one. It embraced such men as Booth, Brown, Soloman, the elder Blandi, Holland, Barrett, Rowe, Russel, DeBar, Green, and others, who were all regarded as of the first-class of dramatic actors on the English stage. After trying Richmond, Va., Caldwell brought his company to New Orleans. He encountered the usual difficulties of a progressive spirit. The Creole population were naturally jealous of the Americans. They could sell all the goods and hold all the offices themselves. Perhaps the natural antagonism which has for so many centuries separated the ancestors of each across the English channel, was unconsciously renewed on this side of the Atlantic; anyway, there was a contest as to whether the English drama could or should be enacted above Canal street.

Caldwell brought Booth to New Orleans, and Booth got up the leading parts in French and played with great applause. Mme. Caldwell was the leading lady at that time and played with him. He also brought out many others who were afterward distinguished as stars. He battled with prejudice and opposition and conquered. He not only built one of the most elegant theatres, but he connected the success of the drama with other enterprises. He was the founder of the St. Charles Hotel, the Gasworks and other modern enterprises. He wa6 a member -of t)i«; City Council, % patron of everything useful or attractive, He emulated in frtris respect

the great manager who, at the same time that he run the Globe Theatre at London, speculated in the town lots and corporate taxes of Stratford-on-Avon.

Aaron J. Phillips came down to New Orleans from the West with a dramatic company in the fall of 1819, and opened a season at the Orleans Opera-House, playing his company on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, the off nights of the Opera. Phillips hoped to deter Caldwell from bringing a company from Virginia, but he did not know the stuff Caldwell was made of. Caldwell brought a company and began his performances as above stated, and soon drove Phillips to relinquish the unequal contest. Phillips made terms with his rival and joined Caldwell's company, and the latter for a time gave performances at the Orleans on the off nights of the opera, and at the St. Philip on the nights when the Orleans was in use by the French opera troupe. Caldwell had a very large company, having engaged most of the members of Phillips' troupe. He found that the new and beautiful Orleans Theatre was the favorite with the public, and that the St. Philip Street Theatre had fallen into disfavor with theatre goers, so he closed the house, but paid the rent until the end of the season. On the whole Mr. Caldwell found his New Orleans venture profitable, and took a lease of the Orleans Theatre for four nights each week, at $100 per night for the three seasons of 1820-21, 1821-22, 1822-23. During his management of the Orleans Theatre Mr. Caldwell saved a considerable sum of money, and he felt well satisfied that the American theatre would find a ready support without discouraging the French theatre, which had become firmly established at the Orleans street house. Mr. Caldwell was one of the most remarkable men New Orleans ever received as a citizen. He it was who, even in those early times, predicted that a new and prosperous city would be built above Canal street, and he had not been long here before he began to look about for a plot of ground whereon to build a theatre.

Mr. Caldwell was ridiculed beyond measure when it became known where he intended to build his proposed new theatre, for he had selected the site on Camp street, at that time a swamp. Many of the old Creoles refused to believe, or to be persuaded, that people could be found who would desire to build houses and live in the district above Canal street. But the farseeing manager was wise in his predictions and in the course he marked out. He lived to see the point where he built his new theatre on Camp street become the centre of an immense population. On May 29th, 1822, Mr. Caldwell, with his own hands, laid the corner stone of the New American Theatre on Camp street, The theatre was so far finished that Mr. Caldwell gave one performance in it on May 14th, 1823. The play was " The Dramatist," and was followed by the comic opera called " The Romp." Into this theatre Mr. Caldwell put the earnings of the two previous seasons and borrowed $14,000 from citizens in sums of $300. Each person advancing $300 was entitled to an admission to the theatre, but the manager reserved the right to return the loan and cancel the obligation any time within 10 years.

Near December 1, 1823, Mr. Caldwell began his closing performance at the Orleans Theatre, as his lease expired at the end of the month. On January 1, 1824, Mr. Caldwell opened the completed Camp Street Theatre for its first regular season. On that occasion he spoke an opening address, written by Thomas Wells, of Boston. The bill of the play was as follows—Morton's

comedy of


Reuben Glenroy J. H. Caldwell.

Owen Glenroy Edward Caldwell.

Captain Glenroy William Forrest.

Charles Plastic Mr. Garner.

Kit Cosey N. M. Ludlow.

Trot Jackson Grey.

Jockey Hawbuck Richard Russell.

Ross J. M. Scott.

William J. Higgins.

Evans William McCaffeity.

Waiter. r .. „, ; ;; , James Setioles.

Mr. J. H. •aldwell was proprietor and manager, Mr. Russell stage manager, Jas. S. Howe treasurer, Win. Noak leader of orchestra, John Vardeu machinist, Antonio Mondelli scene artist, and S. Simonds gas engineer.

The theatre was the first building in New Orleans lighted by gas, for Mr. Caldwell had erected gas works on the same lot adjoining the theatre. For awhile the theatre was the only building iii New Orleans lighted by gas. After a time Mr. Caldwell lighted one side of Camp street, from the theatre to Canal street, but it took years of hard work to form a gas company aTjdget Canal street lighted by gas. During the first two seasons of the theatre the street and sidewalks were without pavement. It was necessary to walk from Canal street to the theatre, says Ludlow, "on pieces of timber laid together, forming a pathway about two and a-half feet width, made of boat gunwales."

The theatre was a substantial one of brick, 60x160 feet and three stories high, and had seats for 1,103 persons. The stage and all the appliances for the production of plays were of the best kind, and in this establishment for a period of nearly 16 years the most attractive performers that could be procured appeared as stars, and the resident stock company was always competent to present, unaided by auxiliary talent, the chief works of the great dramatists During the early part of February, 1824, Edwin Forrest, then a youth not quite 18 years of age, was engaged as a regular member of the stock company. He was accorded an opening character (Jaffier, in "Venice Preserved,") but thereafter he played walking gentleman, juvenile tragedy, and, in short, anything coming under the head of respectable utility.

It would require a volume to record the doings of the actors of this theatre. Mr. Caldwell made a large fortune and squandered it in erecting and conducting the first St. Charles Theatre, On the 30th of November, 1839, Mr. Caldwell abandoned the Camp street theatre, and concentrated his dramatic forces upon the stage of the St. Charles Theatre. The American, as the Camp was called, was altered in form so as to make it suitable for a ball room. After a time the place became known as Armory Hall, and was used for shows, concerts and exhibitions of one kind and another. For many years the structure was used by the Messrs. Montgomery as an auction mart. During the last year or two the upper portion of the building was occupied by the Young Men's Christian Association. Messrs. Rice, Born & Co. bought the land and the building for $60,000. They commenced to tear down the old house in November, 1881, and now the new five-story hardware store has taken its place.

The old St. Charles Theatre, which, when it was constructed, was the largest theatre in the United States, stood where the Phoenix saloon is now located—the name of the saloon being due to the fact that it arose from the ashes of the theatre.

On May 9th, 1835, the corner-stone of this building was laid, and although in tbe process of building its enterprising owner, Caldwell, had to contend with ninety days of continued rain, it was opened, as resolved, on November 30th, in the same year, with " The School for Scandal " and "Spoiled Child." The theatre had a frontage of 132 feet on St. Charles, and a depth of 172 feet. The grand salon was 129 feet by 26; it had four tiers of boxes, surmounted by enormous galleries^ At the back of forty-seven of these boxes were elegant boudoirs or retiring rooms. From the centre of the building was suspended a magnificent chandelier, weighing over two tons, and illuminated by two hundred gaslights. From the stage to the roof, the distance was 62 feet. The total cost of the building was $350,000.

The new St. Charles (the ' Old Dr*ury," as it is fondly cailed by Orleanians which followed it, now the oldest theatre in New Orleans, has seen more famous actors on its boards than any theatre in this country. Although greatly changed, a visit there cannot but recall the ancient memories clustering around the place, and one feels carried back to those old days. There is

the chair from which the dazzling beauty of the chaiming Miss captivated the whole house

on Christmas night, in 1851; there the box where the divine Miss Somebody Else airted so openly

t\ith the dashing Col , who was afterward killed in a duel on uer account. The longer we

looU the more faces come out of the half soad.ow, and soon memory fills the house. The foot'

lights burn brightly, the dress circle and parquette are jammed; like the waring of the leares on the aspen the fluttering of fans give life and motion to the picture. The orchestra are all in their places; the leader gives the invariable premonitory squeak to his violin, then tries the bass string, while the bass viol brings out a muffled groan from that elephantine instrument. An inspiriting introduction seems to float out and drift away, when the tinkle of a little bell is heard, and majestically the curtain rises. Fans cease their motion, eyes are riveted on the stage, and, after some small talk from two gallants near the left upper entrance, in there walks a stately figure in majestic attire, and the whispers run through the audience: "There's old man Booth !" "How grand he is !" An auction drum over the way breaks the spell, and gone are the ghosts of the lang syne—gone the beauty, the chivalry and the mystic foot-lights that but a moment ago seemed to be there. That leader's fiddle has poured out its last crescendo, the cornet has sounded its last flourish to an advancing Richmond, and the fingers that handled the drum-sticks are dust and ashes out here in some of our cemeteries. Thirty-five years have worked sad havoc in the ranks with its canister and grape, and those who remain of those elegant audiences of bygone nights might almost be put in the private boxes.

The St. Charles was rebuilt immediately after its destruction by the fire of 1843, and all the records, prompter's books, etc.. since then are still to be seen. Here is a sample of salaries from one of them : "J. H. McVicker, $9 per week; Neaffie, $25; Tom Placide, $25; James Wright, $15; Mr. and Mrs. Vance, $40." This was during the season of 1845-6.

Here are some not uninteresting items from the prompter's book :

" Monday, June 22,1846.—Ninth week of the season, and first night of the engagement of Mr. J. B. Booth.

"Mr. Booth was suffering under the effect^ of previous intoxication, and could not get through the part (' Iron Chest' was the piece) without being hissed. Mr. Smith explained to the audience the circumstances and announced his engagement was then and there terminated."

A little further on we read :

" June 24.—Mr. Booth, at the request of the public generally, re-engaged by the management."

Then for night we quote: " Full and enthusiastic houses," " brilliant receptions," " Mr. Booth electrified the throng present."

Looking on we see more complaints.

"'Follies of a Night,' 'Merchant of Venice'—Mr. Tom Placide absent at rehearsal; piece delayed in consequence. As regards Mr. Placide, could I not prevail upon the management (if they do exact forfeits) to make a lump job of it with him at the end of the season, thereby securing his name from exposure so very often, and relieving me from making use of it in so bad a cause ?"

Endorsed on this is :

"The prompter may hereafter omit writing Mr. P.'e name in the book. Let the prompter at Mobile take his turn. " Ludlow & Smith, Managers "

Next we meet a familiar name to all. The prompter writes " Messrs. Joe Jefferson, English and Fredericks reported as being very noisy in their dressing-rooms. This is becoming a common thing and requires notice."

There were two French theatres, one in St. Peters street, and another in St. Philip street, near Royal, which were in operation from 1808 to 1811. Ajtthe latter period, Mr. John Davis, a French emigre from St. Domingo, built the Orleans theatre, on the square, now partly oocupied by the First District Court, near the Catholic Cathedral, and the adjoining court buildings, and engaged in Paris the first regular Opera Company that ever came into this country. The enterprise proved a highl; successful one, and upon the death of Mr. John Davis the management of the theatre devolved upon his son, Mr. Pierre Davis (now residing in France), by whom it was most ably conducted during a period of over twenty-five years. It was under his man-8#eroe!)t that t.hos* twin star* of the Parisian theatrical world, Mms», Fanny Ellsler awl


Damoreau, were first seen and heard in New Orleans, and that the great master-pieeet Qf Bossini, Meyerbeer, Auber, Donizetti, Herold, Mozart, Spontini and Mehul booame familiar as household words to the highly-refined audiences which crowded the small but elegant and comfortable Opera House, which, after the one originally erected by Mr. John Davis had been burnt down, was rebuilt next year.

Mr. Varney, the author of "Le Chant des Girondins," and afterwards leader of "Les Bouffes Parisiens," the late Eugene Prevost, Mr. John, and since the war Mons. E. Calabresi, have successively wielded the baton of leader of the orchestra.

In 1859, Mr. Chas. Boudousquie having some years before succeeded Mr. Davis as manager of the Orleans theatre, the building was bought at the judicial sale of the estate of John McDonough by Mr. Parlange, who failed to agree with Mr. Boudousquie as to the lease of the theatre, whereupon a new company was formed, and the present splendid edifice on Bourbon street was built by Messrs. Gallier & Esterbrook, architects for the Opera House Association.

It was upon the boards of this theatre that the charming Adelina Patti made her debut in Meyerbeer's "Pardon de Plcermel." There, too, the dying notes of another great Italian artist, Madame Prezzolini, were heard just upon the eve of the great civil war, which, shortly after, led to the temporary suspension of all the theatrical enterprises in New Orleans.

On the return of peace, a French strolling company, under Mr. Marcelin Alhaiza, proving highly succesful, a number of subscribers furnished him at the close of the season with the means of engaging a complete dramatic and operatic company. The result was most unfortunate, Mr. Marcelin Alhaiza having died on the eve of his company's departure from France, and the latter being shipwrecked and lost on the steamer in which they had taken passage from New York to this port.

Mr. Paul Alhaiza, the brother of the deceased manager, collected a few artists who had remained here, and engaged some of the members of another strolling company whose performances at the old Orleans theatre had been brought to a close in 1867, by the burning of that edifice. In 1868, he attempted, in partnership with Mr. Calabresi, to revive the opera, but the attempt proving unsuccessful, a new Opera House Association w T as formed, composed of leading capitalists and merchants of this city, by whom the opera house was purchased, and liberal provision was made for the engagement of a first-class opera company. Mr. E. Calabresi was by them appointed manager and leader, at a very high salary, but although he succeeded in engaging two or three singers, of talent and reputation, such as Michot, Castelmary and Dumestre, most of the other artist brought over by him proved lamentably deficient, and after two seasons the members of the Opera House Association found themselves in debt after having expended the whole of their capital, and were therefore compelled to go into liquidation.

This happened at the close of the season of 1871-2, when Mr. Placide Canonge—a distinguished Creole journalist and playwright, who had already given evidence of his tact and good taste in the selection of a dramatic company for the old Orleans theatre, obtained quite late in the summer, a lease of the Opera House for the winter of 1872-3. Since then the Opera House ha* had varying fortunes, has been open one year and closed the next, but it has always been as fashionable and popular.




In a shallow, stagnant pool, covered with green slime, stood a few tall cypresses and sycamores, their few scant limbs burthened with pendant moss, hanging and swinging with the breeze, telling of a former reign of savageness. In the centre were a few stunted, sickly cedars of European parentage whose appearance showed that they were not yet acclimated to this land. Around the square were planted short wooden pickets, leaning in every direction, and forming an accidental chevaux defrise ; facing it a little brick church, whose diminutive steeple was yet high enough to look over the little huts and cabins congregated around it. Next to the church was a long, low, rambling and rickety bouse of two stories; around the upper one a wide gallery, supported by huge, log-like pillars.

On either wing of the square, set back behind neat little gardens, were the dwellings of the burghers. Some were pretentious villas of two stories, with galleries and porticos out of all proportion to the house ; some of mere rough logs, not even cut into shape, but rounded off in a rude ctyle by being charred and burned, the cracks between the logs filled up with river mud.

On the levee front stood in drunken, uneven ranks, some even ruder huts than these houses of old planks, full of holes and cracks, both in the sides and roofs, through which issued in all directions the smoke that, finding no legitimate exit, took any path that led to heaven. A strong smell of fish cooking for some trapper's dinner perfumed the air, together with a smell equally strong of their brothers cast away as "not good," or left lying in the mud-holes around the levee by the recent fall of the river.

Notwithstanding these little inconveniences and the loud guttural serenade of the frogs, the square was filled with people, all talking in a violent manner, arguing, gesticulating, contradicting.

Amidst this babel, a fleet of odd-looking boats rounded the point, and in a few minutes shot into the mud lagoons that lay between the levee and the summer bed of the river. As these neared the shore, a score or so of men leaped from them into the oozy mud, clambered up the levee, whilst a dozen or so more strove to get the boats nearer to the shore, where a long plank might offer an easier landing than this muddy walk.

This landing created a considerable stir. The most tempting display of goods by the peddlers in their narrow booths on the levee could no longer detain the citizens. They crowded around the new arrivals, following them closely into the square.

Most of the new comers were strong, athletic-looking men, with heavy mustaches of light hue, and all the appearance of Teutons. They were led by two men, one white, one Indian. The white man was hyperbolically tall, thin and yellow; his cheeks weie sunken, his nose a monstrous aquiline, and his small twinkling eyes, which were crossed, had a melancholy look in them, which, with other circumstances made him a perfect picture of Don Quixote, "the Knight of the sorrowful countenance." Over his long waving locks he wore a broad-brimmed hat; upon his boots, a pair of eight-inch Mexican spurs, dangling and jingling as if he were a General. As he strode forward with long spasmodic steps, a universal viva for "Baby" broke from the people. It was "Baby," the military dancing master of Louisiana, the hero of a thousand fights, who brought the awful news of the massacre of the French settlers at Natchez and the advance of the Indians on New Orleans.

The orowd rapidly dispersed, some to barricade their houses, some to get their guns, some to spread the alarm. In a few minutes the crowd had returned, the men being armed.

Though the martinet would have smiled at this curiously arrayed army, it was not one to be despised in an Indian war. There was the crack company of Canadians, who had fought in the North with the mighty Mohawks and Sioux, and each man of whom could pick off an Indian every time he could load his gun—a tedious half an hour operation. A dozen or so half-breeds and Indians were in the troop, who could have paddled this lilliputian army through the lakes, bayous and swamps that make a spider-web of Lower Louisiana. There a renegado, who had seen the wildest times, learned all evil, and feasted and caroused in the Spanish main with the buccaneers and filibusters of the Caribbean Sea.

These men were drawn up in five companies, each company consisting of from fifty to sixty men. The captains were the most popular men of the colony, issuing their orders, each in his own style. One was a blacksmith of the city, of great popularity and impoitance; the next, a man whose name still lingers in the street romances of Paris, as the boldest robber of the city, and who was glad to exchange his official position in the Bagne at Toulon for this new and wild world ; the next, an old soldier who had fought at Pultowa with the Swedish Alexander, and who was vainly striving to instill the principles of military science into the heads of this undiciplined horde. The Captain of the last company was a gentleman in the fullest sense of the word. He had been a nobleman of the highest rank and fortune at the court of Louis XIV, but a {i lettre de cachet'" had taken his fortune away, and sent him to this wild land. The other company was one of negroes, armed with pikes, sticks and knives, and truly their commander could say of them, as Falstaff said of his men : " There is but a shirt and a half to all the company, and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together," without hyperbole. The whole town had by this time collected to witness this display. There a pretty Acadian or Canadian girl, with a smile as heavenly as Evangeline's, who had come here with her husband, at the King's request—i. e., command. Here, a group of wrinkled, elderly women, the wives and mothers of the colony, whose hardened, brazened faces bore evidence of the evil life they had led, and the trade and profession they had followed before the government sent them to the colony on a venture. Side by side stood groups of negroes, squaws, and light mulatto girls. But few children were present; the children did not seem to thrive, and most of the exported women reached New Orleans after they had anived at the grand climateric of fifty.

"To the ramparts!'' cried the Governor, and the troops and militia filed slowly out of the square, followed by the crowd, to the slow music of a broken drum.


The square was now a broad, open, uncovered place, with stunted grass of a sombre gray growing in odd and scattered spots and irregular figures upon its surface, giving it the appearance of some old housewife's counterpane, made up of all her odds and ends. A rather neat, though plain, wooden fence surrounded it, of fresh, new cypress, as yet unacquainted with either paint cr whitewash.

In front stared the same old quiet church, a little the worse for age. By its side a rather pretentious, though low brick building of the most alarming white, with a picturesque roof of new red and yellow tiles. Upon the left of the church, slightly back of the street, stood a pretty villa-like house, half hidden behind the trees, cut and shaved in curious outre shapes, in mild imitation of the wonders of Versailles.

In front, bound to the levee by a ponderous wooden draw-bridge, floated a tall three-decked galleon, her poop rising high into the air, adorned with fanciful wood-carving and painted in the gaudiest colors. From her masts and ropes, amid which a hundred jolly tars clung and leaped, waved a thousand flags. Above them all, with its golden castles and red lions waved the proud banner of Spain. Further out in the stream lay a dozen brothers to this vessel, alike in everything.

In the square a large number of persons were collected. There a follower of the ancient regime, with powdered hair and queue tied up in brilliant ribbons, with silk and gold-flowered coat and long vest; upon the coat cuffs frills and lace that had been washed by some divine blanchisseuse.

By his side a long sword, highly ornamented in inlaid gold and silver frosted work.

Leaning upon his ai'm appeared his lady in thick brocaded gown and rich head-dress, her long robe trailing half-a-mile behind, from her broad, immensely swollen hoop petticoat; her charms slightly heightened by rouge and half a dozen other cosmetics, en regie at that time.

Nobody seemed to be in a joyous mood; no laughing was heard and but little whispering, and that was in a solemn tone. Every now and then the names of Lafreniere, Marquis, Milhet, Noyan and Caresse w r ere murmured, and the speaker would then turn to gaze at a group of men in the centre of the square. This group which stood alone, was composed of five men, dressed in the ordinary attire of the colony, but with their arms tied behind them, and their hands chained together with handcuffs.

The first of these was a tall, majestic, fine-looking man, his hair slightly gray, but his undimmed eye showing spirit, ambition and knowledge. This was Lafreniere, the Tribune of Louisiana. Beside him stood a very young man upon whose chin a beard had hardly yet appeared; his face was calm and delicate, his nose straight, his every feature told of Normandy and noble birth. The next was of middle size, with heavy yellow beard and moustaches; his figure straight and erect, bearing all the appearance of an old and professional soldier of fortune —a Swiss. On his right stood a short, stout, red-faced gentleman who, though dressed in powdered wig and knee-breeches, bore all the signs and tokens of a merchant. The last man was tall and well built, with very dark complexion, his thick hair hanging in long loose locks over his shoulders. They were the five rebels, who had not yet been murdered like VillerS. Before them stood a long line of grenadiers ; on their right a troop of mounted dragoons; near the gate the artillery with some fifty long, slender guns, with their names "Carlos," "Guerra," "Maria," on their sides in high raised letters, and ornamented with many a scene of war, or dragons belching fire, or griffins devouring men.

At the head of these men stood, with his arms folded and his head slightly bowed, as if in thought, a man in the prime of life. His face was slightly reddened and sunburnt, but though his body was hidden in the uniform of Spain, and his face in " the shadowy livery of the bur-uished sun," the merest glance revealed him to be an Irishman, the famous "General Count O'Reilly," Govei-nor, by appointment, of Louisiana.

By his side stood all his staff officers, and by them half a dozen men, attired in yellow, green and purple, bearing heavy silver maces in their hands.

A fire was burning to the left of the prisoners ; half a dozen negroes appeared with their arms full of books, which they handed to a tall and very black negro, who threw them, one by one, into the fire, while a little old man, in rusty black gown, walked around, crying in a loud voice: "This, the memorial of the planters of Louisiana, is, by order of his Excellency. Don Alexander O'Reilly, thus publicly burnt, for containing the following rebellious and atrocious doctrines: 4 Liberty is the mother of commerce and population. Without liberty there are but few virtues.'' " As the smoke ascended from the last copy, the little crier ran around the square chanting, amidst the solemn silence of the people the order, " Whereas, Nicholas Chauvin de Lafreniere. Pierre Marquis, Joseph Milhet, Jean Baptiste Noyau and Pierre Caresse, have been found guilty; they are ordered to be shot for high treason committed against his Most Catholic Majesty, the King of Spain."

A grenadier stepped forward, offering to bind their eyes. Lafreniere waved him aside "No," cried he, a haughty smile passing over his face; "think you we are afraid to look on death," and turning around to the citizens he waved his hand in adieu, and said : " Farewell, fellow-citizens i The cry of liberty is already heard; it will be crowned with victory." He had barely



finished, when the crier again stepped forward and cried : "In consequence of his youth, Don Alexander O'Reilly, Governor of Louisiana, spares Monsieur de Noyan." "No," cried the beardless young man, " with my comrades I fought; with them I die."

"Are you ready?" cried the Spanish captain. -"Ready? Yes; always ready, and if we do is because you are not soldiers, but assassins." A platoon of dragoons wheeled around, and leveled their guns—a sudden flash—and ere the report had echoed through the square, the five had fallen, sending np to heaven, amidst the fire and smoke which hovered around them, and whilst the death rattle was even then choking their breath, a last cry of " Vive la Lonisiane /"


A cold blast blew through the square, the leaves shrivelled up and dropped from the trees —from all save two mighty, far-spreading sycamores, standing near the wide wooden gateway.

But, though nature was asleep, New Orleans was not. The square was covered with all colors, all ra^es, all ages, in holiday attire and smiling faces, save here and there a dress of black and an eye glistening with tears. From the balconies of the Town Hall, and Parsonage opposite, looked down the Creole belles of our city : the bow-windows and tesselated roofs of all the surrounding houses were crowded, and even the trees were peopled by the gamins— all gazing with eager eyes to see some expected show.

The old Cathedral was burnished up in splendid style, its whole front wreathed in hanging evergreens. Tn the open place in the centre of the square stood a tall arch of triumph, supported by six Corinthian pillars, around which curled long, creeping: parasites of evergreens, with roses, lilies and jasmines creeping from beneath their folds. Beneath this arbor stood two little girls, in white muslin dresses, radiant in many-colored ribbons. From this to the Cathedral door, extended on either side a long line of evergreens, upheld by golden lances, from each of which floated a flag embroidered with the emblasoned arms and motto of a sovereign state-Beside each banneret stood, as guardian, a fair Creole, upon her forehead a silver star, over her arm a basket filled with blooming flowers.

Upon the other side, leading to the levee, stood two long ranks of soldiers; upon the right hand, a company of mulattoes. Next to them, a body of Choctaw Indians, plumed, painted and blanketed as usual. Opposite these stood a set of rough-looking men, with long, unwashed faces, and scraggy, unshaven beards, arrayed in dirty woolen hunting-shirts of dingy blue and brown, and pants of butternut or grass-green color. Upon their heads, fur caps, adorned with bushy tails that told of raccoon and squirrel hunts in the wilds of Kentucky or Tennessee; in their rough, untanned deer-skin belts rows of knives, pistols and tomahawks, and on their shoulders their trusty rifles, no two alike in length, size or make.

Suddenly a roar of cannon on the levee echoed through the square, the boys on the tree-tops shouted, the ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and the soldiers brightened up, and strove, in vain, to assume military attitudes, and change the look of pleasure on their faces to one of duty and importance, as a group of half a dozen men entered the levee gate.

The first man who entered was a tall, gaunt, sallow, old man with iron-gray hair; his face was beardless and wrinkled, and an expression of severity and sternness gave it a forbidding aspect. His dress was simple, almost threadbare ; a leather cap protected his head, an old blue cloak his body. A single glance revealed Andrew Jackson. Though different in dress, his form and face were the same which in bronze to-day look down upon and protect the square, so very like, that it seems as if, in imitation of the commander in Don Giovanni, the old General might have dismounted from his horse, and having changed his clothes, come here to revel in old memories. By his side stood a man as tall, though stouter than he, a man of herculean frame, dressed in the rudest border style. It could be none but Coffee.

By their side walked Col. Patterson, a stout, compact, melancholic man, in neat undress naval uniform.

As they walked up these human aisles, cheers on cheers went up in endless succession, deafening the very cannon, and shocking the air as if with an aerial earthquake. They neared the arch, the General stopped, the two little girls* mounted on tip^oe^ removed his cap, and dropped a laurel wreath upon his broW, which blushed a rosy red beneath its weather-beaten sallo whess.

A young lady, glowing with all the beauty of this sUnny clime, holding in her hand a banner, bearing the proud name of Louisiana, stepped forward, and in that name welcomed " the hero of New Orleans." The old soldier's face brightened; some fairy hands smoothed down the wrinkles on his brow, and in a trembling voice he had commenced, "Ladies of Louisiana,'' when each of the young ladies drew handfuls of flowers from their baskets and drowned the General in a floral rain. Again this singular group marched forward amidst this carnival of flowers. As they mounted the Cathedral steps, another cheer, another halt. Around them crowd the Battalion d'Orleans, each a hero of the war who had spent his Christmas and New Year amidst the marshes of Chalmette, carrying in the muzzle of his gun a bouquet, the trophy given by some fond wife or sweetheart. There in the gateway stood the Chasseurs, the Louisiana Blues, the Hulans, the Carbineers. On the steps were all the dignitaries of the town, Governor Claiborne, the Mayor Girod, the Captains Plauche, White, St. Gene and Gibert, with Livingstone, Ghrymes, Dussau de la Croix, Villere, etc. But in the centre of the door stood the cynosure of all eyes, the Abb6 Du-bourg, clad in all the splendor of his canonical robes, and surrounded by a college of his priests. As the General approached, he stepped forward and said, "Gladly do we welcome the hero of Chalmette—gladly do we tender him our thanks; but a greater than he guided his sword and directed his counsels. Let us sing forth His praise." As his words died away, the Te Deum broke forth in all its majesty, and lights of all colors, red, white and blue, shone from every window, making the street bright with artificial day.


The traditions of the old Spanish fort embrace the whole history of the foundation and settlement of New Orleans. Beginning: with the landing of Bienville at the mouth of the bayou which he named St. Jean, and his resting with his wearied followers on the high ground on which the remnant of the fort now stands, preparatory to his ascent of the bayou, in pursuit of the shortest line between Lake Pontchartrain and the Mississippi river, and tracing down through the century and a half which have since passed, the most vivid and interesting incidents of that history will be found to group around this old fort. It was indeed the initial point of Bienville's great enterprise. His ambition could not be satisfied with the feeble and discouraging efforts made by the first settlers at East Biloxi, now Ocean Springs. He was not of the nature to sit quietly down and await starvation in that poor and desolate spot, when the banks of the Mississippi and the high lands of the bayous flowing from it were so easily attainable. And so, selecting the most active and enterprising of his followers, he worked his way in barges to and through the Bayou St. Johu and discovered an easy passage to the high grounds, within a mile and a half of the main current of the Mississippi. It was here the first huts were erected of the future great city. When the decline of the river within its banks opened to settlement the rich plain of the alluvion, it was occupied with a thin line of huts which then, reversing the present contour of the city, extended at right angles from the river to the bayou. It was through the bayou all the travel and commerce of the little settlement was conducted. The only ports with which such communications were then maintained were those of the Bay of St Louis and Biloxi, where the parent colonies still lingered in a depleted and half-starved condition, awaiting relief from old France. A brilliant success crowned the design of Bienville, and the settlement developed into quite a pretentious town under him and his French successors. And when, as a result of European wars and entanglements, France lost her hold upon her colony, and Spain assumed dominion, it cannot be denied that her governors proved fully equal to the task of completing and, indeed, expanding the scope of Bienville's enterprise. Those old Spanish governors were

really great men. They had their bigotries and their inordinate pride and hauteur, but they were also men of large views, of great energy and a high sense of duty to their nation and their offices.

No greater names can be found in our history than those of De Ulloa, Galvezand Carondelet. Even O'Reilly, accused for his cruelties to the old French settlers and Creoles, was a vigorous and faithful protector and promoter of the interests and prosperity of the colony. It was De Ulloa who directed and executed the building of the Fort St. John, of which the foundations and walls now remain, inclosing the hotel and promenade grounds, to which the people of New Orleans now resort for enjoyment and recreation. He was the same who, as Vice-Regent of Mexico, designed the powerful fortress which defends the entrance to the harbor of Vera Cruz and which was named after him. Carondelet conceived and accomplished the still greater enterprise of constructing the canal from the head of Bayou St. John to the Old Basin, for so long a period the central locality of the old city.

During the Spanish dominion the fort at the mouth of the bayou was kept in good condition and repair and well fortified. It was regarded as the principal protection of the city against any sudden assault and raid of the Indians or of the pirates who then abounded in the Gulf of Mexico, and frequently raided the young colonies which could be reached by their cruisers. Thus the old fort was always garrisoned and held ready to defend the only practicable approach to the city at that time.

After both Spanish and French dominions had ceased in Louisiana, and the stars and stripes waved over the old structure of De Ulloa, Andrew Jackson and his staff, hurrying from Pensa-cola and Mobile, after the brilliant campaign against the Creek Indians and the conquest of Florida, found the Spanish Fort, with its very ancient guns in position and an effective garrison of artillerists, prepared to repel an invader far more formidable than the Indians and freebooters of the Spanish main. The British cruisers were then engaged in a close survey of all the approaches to the city, preparatory to the great expedition which had been long contemplated against it, and which, a few months subsequently, met with so disastrous a conclusion.

Jackson and his staff reached the old fort in schooners and barges, bringing their horses with them. Coffee's brigade of mounted riflemen had been sent by land around the lakes to join the little army then concentrating in New Orleans.

Stopping long enough to receive the salutations of the garrison of the old fort, Jackson ordered his staff to saddle up, and quickly mounting, the little party proceeded by the narrow pathway along the ridge upon which the railway now runs toward the settlement at the head of the bayou. Here he was received by the late Kelly Smith, then a Federal officer in the city, was refreshed with a generous collation, after partaking of which the General and staff remounted their horses, proceeded along the Bayou Road as far as the junction with Esplanade street. Here he was met by the Governor, the Mayor, the State and city officials, and the notabilities of our population, and welcomed with great enthusiasm, and the keys of the city intrusted to his care and all its resources placed at his command.

How he fulfilled this trust and justified this confidence is familiar to all readers of history.

Returning to the old fort's history, alas ! that we should have to record an incident of the sad and uncontrolable grief and insubordination of the veteran warrior of Vinegar Hill and first lieutenant of the garrison, who, during the great battle of the eighth of January, 1815, became so disgusted with the inaction-of the garrison and his exclusion from all the gaudia certaminis of actual conflict with "the bloody Red Coats," that with a few of his countrymen he stole out of the fort and tramped through the swamps to the field of Chalmette, alas ! too late to participate in its glories, but not too late to gloat over the gory spectacle exhibited by the field which had been swept by Jackson's artillery and musketry, and to join in the loud huzzas that rung along the American lines as Pakenham's grand army melted away in the distance.

Forty years ago the old Spanish Fort had become the private lakeside residence of a wealthy Frenchman named Millaudon. He was a man of large ideas, considerable enterprise and some-

what addicted to hobbies. He had two favorite hobbies. The one was his sugar plantation, now cultivated by the Ames brothers, on the other side of the river just above Gretna. On this plantation Mr. Millaudon expended many thousands of dollars in experimenting with every new mechanical invention for the manufacture and refining of sugar and the distillation of rum. It was always a mystery how any resources could stand the drain imposed by Mr. Millaudon for the gratification of this ambition. But it was well known that the yield of every season during his cultivation of this plantation with at least 300 slaves, exhibited a large loss on the cost and the expense incurred by the owner in his experimenting with every new mechanical invention proposed to him, so that after many years he^had accumulated a mass of machinery which had failed in executing its purposes, for the material of which he was offered $40,000 by a thrifty ironmonger.

The other pet hobby of Mr. Millaudon was his lake residence at the mouth of Bayou St John, built on the foundation of the old fort. Here he made large investments in protecting the site from the constant overflows of the lake and the abrasion of the levee, planting trees and laying out a garden, until it had become quite a pleasant place for family sojourn during the summer. Mr. Millaudon or his family did not loner enjoy the pleasures of this lakeside residence, and receiving a large offer for it as a hotel by certain capitalists interested in a shell road, which had become a popular drive for our fashionable and wealthy people, said road meandering through the swamp with the course of the bayou, Mr. Millaudon sold his farm-house or villa for a hotel. It passed into the management of the Elkin Club, which kept a very delightful table. All the politicians, the great merchants and lovers of luxury were wont to resort to Elkins for a good time. This epoch in the history of the old fort was not of long duration. The Club was given up, and for many years, with a few spasmodic efforts to revive its ancient glories, the fort was abandoned and almost forgotten by our people.

At last a vigorous effort was made by the company, which constructed the railroad known as the Spanish Fort road, to restore its fortunes. This object had been reached and the fort was beginning to be a very attractive resort, when the company became involved in financial troubles and its enterprising constructors were compelled to bring their property to the block, and lost large sums thereby, and the Messrs. Schwarz became the purchasers, under whose management the place again became one of the most agreeable lakeside resorts in the country.


For many years there was no such drive as the new shell road, no such beautifnl canal as the new canal, nor was there anywhere on the lake so capacious and elegant a hotel as that erected by the Canal Bank, at the terminus. Oh ! what glorious dinners, what grand frolics, what unbounded jollity were wont to reign at that universally popular and fashionable hostelry. For a long time this superiority over all other resorts was kept up, but after the war the hotel was burned, the New Canal fell into other hands, the shell road was neglected and ceased to be an agreeable drive, and the glory of old Dan Hickok departed.

Then the City Railroad started its enterprise for the extension of its road from the terminus at the cemeteries to the lake, obtained a charter to run dummies from Canal street to the lake, along the canal, and completed and furnished its road in fine style, so that in a very short time it re-established the old popularity of the New Lake, and was encouraged by a large and constant patronage, which it held for several years. But, finally, it encountered great loss and damage by the great tempest, of several years ago, which broke up the revetment and swept away all the houses which had been erected along the shore. This furnished the opportunity to the Spanish Fort road, of which they made good use. But the old company set to work to repair these damages, and under the attractive name of West End, and by an expenditure of over a hundred thousand dollars restored the ancient glories and re-established the popularity of this resort.



Down in the neighborhood of the old Cathedral, where Chartres street, buzzing and lazilj bustling, widens out into the broad, green smile of a public square, there are queer little alleyways piercing from one street to another, running by the cool Cathedral closes. The mother church bends defiant front to the white glare of the river, to the innovation of shrill steam-car whistles, that would cry down the deep bay and growl of her bells, but cannot; and away from the church into the narrow alley falls grateful shadow, in which a beggar or two makes monotonous moans for unexpected alms. A hot rush of wind from the river, sweetened by filtration through the rose patches of the big square, comes down into the shadowy alley, rattling the green Venetian blinds at the white windows, and whipping at the long curtains of knotted cord hung over certain of the open doorways, just as one may see them in Florence and Rome in the summer time. The signs hereabout are all French, and that of "avocat" seems predominant. Groups of men chattering over their cigarettes interfere with pedestrianism in the alley, and stare with Gallic curiosity and gallantry after every petticoated individual that passes. A priest, in cassock—and he plump and good-tempered, with face shining like a newly-peeled onion-leans laughing against the black balustrade in one of these old French houses.

Just in this neighborhood is a dingy old bookstore ; the house of stone, one-storied, musty and damp. Books are piled around the four walls ten feet high, and if one would loiter in this learned den, one must needs stand up to one's reading, for chair or resting-place there is none. The proprietor of this shop has gone abroad. He makes such trips twice or thrice a year. There is plenty of custom for old things in old New Orleans, and sharp buyers from the North, hungry for bargains, snatch greedily for every rare volume, or strange bit of brass, or bronze, or crystal, that finds impoverished way into these old, dirty, second-hand shops.

Try speaking English to any of the dwellers in this neighborhood and one is answered in the carressing accents and delicious dialect that makes so large a part of the charm of Cable's books.

There can be no place in America quite like old New Orleans. One who has seen them, can never quite forget the gray stone-arched entrances to the old courtyards, and the houses wrinkled with age and with dusty dormer windows blinking down like faded, aged eyes over which a growth of golded rod leans like a monstrous bushy eyebrow. A wild tangle of vines grows in most of these dark courtyards, some of which are given over to complete decay; others, however, being trimly neat and pretty as the homes of prosperous French people invariably are.

Many of the shops contain odd wares." In a house whose round upper windows, covered interiorly with white blinds, look precisely like sleeping eyes, is a music shop. Songs in the windows are French; the master stands within, humming a gay little chansonette, and a curious gray old print, representing a concert in a monastery, gathers a laughing crowd at the show window.

Next door in the jeweler's shop, among the odds and ends, is an exquisite Venetian gondola, done in filagree silver, with gondoliers and all complete.

The down-town people of the poorer localities are great lovers of potted flowers and singing birds. Some streets are fine with color, owing to the brilliant red masses of geraniums that blossom boldly in defiance of the hottest sun; and many a tiny bit of iron gallery jutting in

curious fashion out of some tall window is transformed into the coolest of arbors by iooped-up cypress vines, which lay their long fingers on everything they can reach.

Here seed dealers do a brisk business in mignonnette, morning glory and pansy seeds, while the flower dealers over at the market hard by can, on Sunday mornings, hardly supply the demand for pots of purple Marguerites and pink China asters.

In this French town everything is so widely different from things in new New Orleans. Here the mover's cart is but seldom seen; in a strange, un-American way the people are deeply rooted, and many talk of their ancestry or posterity. Many a youns matron lives in the house her great-grandmother occupied, and the passer-by making excursions down some of those long, narrow streets, where there is a hazy perspective of red-tiled roofs tangled together or strung one to the other by freighted clotheslines, has now and again glimpses of quaint interiors. Cool, red sanded floors, quaint spindle-legged dressing tables, cabinets positively antique, rich with carvings, and black with age, mosaic tables pieced together long before the grand mosaic of these United States was half designed, and over the tall, high and narrow mantel shelves with their heavy cornices and mimic Corinthian columns, reared about an absurdly small bit of a fireplace, gigantic vases of Sevres, odd bits of Bohemian ware, bottles and absinthe glasses. In these stiff, straight up and down brick mansions with solid green shutters, damp courtyards and corridors, like the tunnels of the catacombs, the occupants come and go in generations.

So long have they been in possession, undisturbed by agents or repairers, that the younger members of the family are almost sure that the "landlord" living beyond the sea is but a myth, and the rental faithfully forwarded at the close of each month is but a sad waste of money.

Sometimes in the wedge of light, streaming in between the bowed wooden shutters one can see a neat old French lady—a Madame of a style at least fifty years out of date, rocking back and forth. She is brown, slim of build, and with a fine aquiline face; and she has great glittering, barbaric hoops of gold in her old ears. She wears a thin, short gown of cross-barred nainsook—now-a-days such gowns are worn by her great-grand-children and called " Mother Hubbards." She is a quaint, sharp, knowing and talkative old French Mother Hubbard, rocking away in the high-backed wooden chair which contrasts illy with the mahogany dressing-cases and oaken sideboard.

Sauntering down one of the side streets, we glance into porte cocheres that reveal vistas of beautiful quadrangular gardens, ivy-clad walls, bubbling, sparkling fountains. Stairways lead to galleries, upon which open salons whose proportions dwarf Queen Anne cottage parlors into doll-house apartments. The lower floors, still reserved for business, once the scene of fashion's barter, are now the resort for those in search of oddities in goods and trades.

Placards—" Chambres garnies" dangle from long twines tied to hanging balconies, the point of juncture hidden by vines that swing over the railing to catch upon other twines stretched tautly to upper window-sills. Behi id their greenery, geraniums blize and bloom in their improvised beds, as brightly and blithely as if rooted upon spacious lawns.

Windows with contents sacred and secular advertise the stock of interiors near the ol 1 French Cathedral. Slate pencils and rosaries, c indies and slates, tape and missals, perhaps, one window devoted to those lugubrious tributes to the departed, 1 lack and white beads, w.eaths and baskets of all sizes and qualities, interspersed with boxes of the tiny nails which fasten them to the tombs. Passing by the Cathedral gardens we join the constant stream of the devout and enter the ancient pile.

A qui yacen los restos

Dn. Andres Almonaster y Roxas,

is inscribed upon t e tomb of the builder, born in Andalusia to die in New Orleans on April 26, 1798, aged eventy-three years. Tinted sunbeams steal in through the lofty lunettes of stained glass. Holy men look down from the spandrels upon the devotees before the shrine t > Our

Lady of Lourde . Tributes of gratitude for her mercy and grace hang thick upon the wall,' varying from the tiny print to handsome vase • and tablets.


Modest and retired, with but little attempt at arcbitectural ornament, the Creole's home is nevertheless his most sacred possession, about which cluster his most endearing memories and fondest hopes.