CREOLE PECULIARITIES

Although much has been said, of late, concerning that little-understood branch of the American family, the Creole, the subject is not exhausted. If it presents a fruitful theme to the novelist, it is not a less interesting study for the philosophical mind, which is not satisfied with the mere existence of facts, but goes beyond, and seeks the why and wherefore of whatever is strange or puzzling. Here we have a class of American citizens with a language and manners and customs peculiarly their own, and differing widely from the national language, manners, and customs-if such things exist which, excepting the language, is questionable. It does not follow that these people are inferior to other Americans, or that their peculiarities should excite only mirth or contempt. Ere we pass judgment upon them we should make sure, at least, that we understand them.

Owing to certain circumstances, such as the steady increase of the Anglo-Saxon element in Louisiana, the introduction of the American public-school system, and the changes-political and social-that have followed the civil war, the Creole is fast losing the characteristic peculiarities which have made him an object of curiosity. He is becoming Americanized in his ways of thinking and his habits; and the day is not far distant, perhaps, when the name "Creole" shall provoke no curious inquiry, but be accepted in its true and original sense, "the descendant of a colonist."

In point of fact, the descendants of Penn, of the Pilgrim Fathers, or of the Cavaliers, might have just as good claim to the name; but it has been confined to the sons born to European parents in the French and Spanish colonies, save in the British island of Jamaica, where it is used (or was, not many years ago) to distinguish the native Jamaican from his brother Englishman from across the sea. And even this exception is explained when we remember that Jamaica was a Spanish possession ere it became English, and that a large number of French Creoles emigrated there from Hayti after the negro insurrection.

The designation is supposed to be of Spanish origin: Criollo-probably from criar, to give existence, to bring up, to "inspire and imbue one with our principles and manners"-a definition perfectly applicable to the new race begotten in a new world, and jealously educated in the ideas, language, and customs of the old. The young scion, growing in this virgin soil, must

retain the characteristics of the parent stock, yet have a name of its own, for who knows what the future may hold in reserve? The French saw the analogy, and, if they did not invent the word, were not slow to adopt it, modifying it, however, to Créole-as good a derivation, by the way, from their verb créer as criollo is from criar.. It was in use in all the French colonies except Canada.

As the inhabitants of the British colonies called themselves "Americans," even before their separation from the mother country, so did the inhabitants of Louisiana, whether born on the soil or in France, call themselves Creoles when the colony passed under the rule of Spain. They were, and are, just as proud of this distinctive name as the descendants of the New England Puritans, New York Knickerbockers, and Pennsylvania Friends may be of their respective origin. The iniquitous transfer of Louisiana to the King of Spain was a cruel blow to the colonists; they protested against it; they proclaimed their fidelity and devotion to the King of France, and so compromised themselves by their opposition to Ulloa, the first Spanish governor, that the lives of some of the most eminent were forfeited when O'Reilly took possession. The name Creole had received its baptism of blood.

The Louisianians were no longer French. The Creoles became a distinct race. Their number was increased during the Spanish rule by the accession of children born in Louisiana of Spanish fathers and native mothers. The short-lived retrocession to France did not affect their status, and when the territory was purchased by the United States, there was no distinction made between French and Spanish Creoles. The people, this time, accepted the new régime without protest. They had no love for Spain, and the ties which bound them to France had been severed by the incapacity of Louis XV. True, their hearts had throbbed with exultation as they heard of glorious victories won by France over combined Europe, and they had hailed the hoisting of the tricolor flag on the Place d'Armes with something of their old enthusiasm for the Fleurs-de-Lys, but the ceremony was but the prelude to bitter disappointment and humiliation. They were sold! Twice robbed of their nationality, without their consent, without even previous notice, they clung to their name of Creoles, as the down-trodden children of Israel, without a country they can call their own, have clung, through ages, to their name of Israelites.

Yet, apart from this natural feeling of humiliation, they were glad of the change. The old leaven of republicanism, noticed by some historians as existing in the colony at the time of the first cession to Spain, had not died out. The War of American Independence had revived the hopes of

the patriots, and as they watched the consolidation of the republic, they foresaw whence deliverance would come. It did come, not by some glorious feat of arms, as they had hoped, yet they were proud to become a part of this free, prosperous, and powerful nation. They were free at last.

The vast extent of territory known at that time as Louisiana was divided into four territories, destined to become four great States. have to do with only one, that which retained the old name. If the people of Arkansas, of Illinois, or of Missouri do not present the peculiarities for which the Creoles of Louisiana are noted, it is that the main settlements of the French and of their successors, the Spaniards, were at New Orleans and in the adjacent country; in the more distant points of the old colony there were only small trading posts, whose populations were too insignificant to preserve their characteristics; they were absorbed by the tide of emigration from the States. The people of Louisiana proper retained their language, their creed, their manners and customs, and even their lawsat least, their civil laws-for the treaty of purchase stipulated these privileges. They lost nothing, and gained additional guaranties-thanks to the wisdom of Edward Livingston--by the substitution of the English penal code to the complicated and oppressive criminal laws instituted by the Spaniards. An era of prosperity now commenced for the Louisianians. Emigration brought an activity in enterprise very different from the old sluggish ways of the Spanish period. The resources of the soil were developed; trade received a new impulse; the population and the wealth of the State increased rapidly-yet there was something wanting. People with different languages, creeds, and customs do not harmonize easily; and then, the Louisianians felt humiliated when they thought that they had not won by their own efforts that liberty which had brought them so many blessings. Then came the War of 1814, and the fraternal union was finally sealed on the plains of Chalmette. The Plauchés, the Peires, the Lacostes, the Villerés-worthy of their patriotic ancestor, O'Reilly's first victim-led the Creole phalanx to victory under the Stars and Stripes, and won the praise of Andrew Jackson. They had redeemed the ignominy of the sale and barter of their allegiance. From that glorious 8th of January, 1815, only, they felt that they were indeed American citizens.

How is it, then, that they have never completely assimilated with their new countrymen, but have remained so different that they are an object of wonder, and their city, gay New Orleans, is dubbed, even at this late day, "the least American of all the cities in the Union"? The two questions are intimately connected. As we study the peculiarities of New Orleans, and read her history in the architecture of her houses, the names of her

streets and her municipal boundaries, we shall arrive at a better understanding of her people, and we may even come to look on certain peculiarities as quite natural.

Here we have, as it were, three distinct cities, marking three distinct eras in the history of New Orleans. As we stand in the old Place d'Armes-now Jackson Square-facing the cathedral, we are in the center of the French quarter, that "narrow strip of ground stretching along the river bank," where, in 1719, Monsieur de la Tour traced the plan of la Nouvelle Orléans. The streets cross each other at regular distances, so as to form squares "fifty fathom front." These squares or blocks are called ilets, a name that puzzles the stranger, for he fails to discover it in the dictionary. It is old French, and means a small island, an islet. Monsieur de la Tour had caused deep ditches to be dug round each square of ground, "to serve as a drain for the river water in time of inundation," and, as water was always plentiful in and about New Orleans, these ditches were full most of the time, and the city appeared to be composed of so many little islands.

The old boundaries are still clearly defined. The city proper commenced at St. Phillip Street-the third street from the cathedral, on our right-where a fort was built from which the street took its name. Below this fort, the Ursuline nuns, who came over in 1727, erected a convent and school for girls on what is still known as Ursulines Street. This old building, I believe, is still standing. The nuns occupied it for more than a century, when, finding themselves in the very center of a growing city, they moved to a quieter spot, three miles below the boundary. They used to have charge of the military hospital situated just beyond their convent; hence the name Hospital Street. Next comes Barracks Street, where the soldiers had their quarters, and Esplanade Street, where they held the parade. This was the lower boundary. Above the cathedral the third street was also protected by a strong fort, after which it was named-Fort St. Louis-and formed the upper limit. The city extended only half a dozen streets from the river front. It ended at Rampart Street-a name which reminds us that New Orleans had ramparts once upon a time. Just beyond this, at the foot of St. Louis Street, was the cemetery, a portion of which is still preserved, with its crumbling brick tombs and quaint epitaphs.

Such was the original configuration of New Orleans. After a time the city stretched out as high as Canal Street. Within these narrow limits the streets all bear French names: Condé, Chartres, Royale, Bourbon, Dauphine, Bourgogne, Conti, Orleans, Toulouse, recall to mind the

France of ante-revolutionary times. Not a name has been changed. Substantial buildings occupy the sites of the rude constructions erected by the first settlers. Some are quite modern, but there are many still in this oid French town that have withstood the elements for over one hundred years. The greater number belong to the descendants of the original settlers. What property has passed into other hands has been purchased principally by Frenchmen. Hence we hear only French spoken as we stroll down the streets, and, if we mingle with the inhabitants, we find their manners and customs very different from what we are accustomed to see in AngloSaxon homes, yet possessing a charm other than that of novelty. There is, or was, in the Creole, for I speak of forty years ago, a genial urbanity, a warm hospitality, which no stranger could resist. It was more than the conventional French politeness. The stranger was welcomed with open doors and open hearts; once admitted under the hospitable roof, he was looked upon as a friend, and treated with the familiar abandon of friendship. This custom was inherited; it dated from the early days, when the colonists, far from their beloved France, exiled, as it were, from the civilized world, hailed with delight the arrival of every new-comer, for it broke the monotony of colonial life, and brought them fresh tidings of the outer world. The stranger, to-day, may not meet with this ready hospitality, but it will not be because it has ceased to be a Creole characteristic.

The Spaniards who came during the Spanish rule settled principally below the lower boundary, in what is known as the Third District. Here we see Spanish names on the street corners: Casacalvo, Galvez, Miro, Spain, mark the second era in the city's history. On the other hand, the Americans, during the first half of the present century, built up the commercial section above Canal Street, whence all the enterprises that have helped to make New Orleans the great Southern mart were started. Still later, the agglomeration of German settlers farther up the river bank led to the creation of a Fourth District; so that, passing through certain streets, as one goes from one end of the city to the other, he may hear four different languages, and notice such striking differences in race characteristics, that he will almost fancy he has passed through four distinct cities. This anomaly has at least one advantage-the children of the present generation of Orleanians are born polyglots; they speak two or three languages ere they have learned to read.

We have seen that each successive wave of immigration settled round the old French town, leaving it undisturbed. So with the Creole population. The new elements were not homogeneous, and did not mingle with it. That the Creoles did not take very readily to speaking English when