This is largely the reason why it is that New Orleans has been often spoken of as the American Venice.  To that beautiful European city, with its gondolas and picturesque costumes, belongs the honor of having originated high-class comedy.  To New Orleans must be given the credit of planting, or at any rate perpetuating, the idea in a tangible shape in this country, and of having, for fully two generations, kept up the annual celebration almost without a break.  Masquerading came across the Atlantic from Venice by way of France, where the idea took strong hold.  When emigration from France to the old Territory of Louisiana became general, the idea came with it, and the practice of sending children to Paris to be educated resulted in the latest ideas of aristocratic festivities being brought over to the home which has since sheltered them.

History tells us that on New Year’s Eve of 1831, a number of pleasure-seeking men spent the entire night in a Creole restaurant at Mobile arranging for the first mystic order in that city, and from this beginning the long line of Creole comedies sprang up.  In 1857, the Mystic Krewe of Comus made its first appearance upon the streets of New Orleans.  “Paradise Lost” was the subject selected for illustration.  Year after year the revelry was repeated on Shrove Tuesday, but the outbreak of the war naturally put a stop to the annual rejoicing.  Southern enthusiasm is, however, hard to down, and directly the war was over, Comus reappeared in all his glory.  A few years later the Knights of Momus were created, and in 1876 the Krewe of Proteus had its first carnival.  Many other orders have followed, but these are the more magnificent and important.

It is difficult to convey an adequate idea of the feeling which prevails in regard to these comedies.  The mystery which surrounds the orders is extraordinary, and the secret has been well kept, a fact which cynics attribute to the exclusion of ladies from the secret circle.  It is well known that on many occasions men have pretended to leave the city on the eve of the comedy, and to have returned to their homes a day or two later, not even their own families knowing that they took a leading part in the procession.  The Carnival Kings issue royal edicts prior to their arrival, commanding all business to cease on the occasion of the rejoicings.  The command is obeyed literally.  Banks, courts of justice and business houses generally suspend operations, and old and young alike turn out to do homage to the monarch of the day.

Let us imagine for a moment we are privileged to see a Creole carnival.  Every inch of available space has been taken up.  Every balcony overlooking the royal route is crowded with pleasure parties, including richly dressed ladies, all the flower and beauty of the Sunny South being represented.  The course is illuminated in the most attractive manner, and every one is waiting anxiously for the procession.  Bands of music, playing sprightly tunes, finally reward the patience of the watchers.  Then come heralds, bodyguards and marshals, all gorgeously arrayed for the occasion.  Their horses, like themselves, are richly adorned for the occasion, and the banners and flags are conspicuous for the artistic blending of colors.