2
KANSAS UNIVERSITY WEEKLY.
refined intrigue of the private ones. These characteristics naturally escape the habituated eyes of the natives. The old French and Spanish spirit of the carnival has in their eyes been completely destroyed by the innovation of American ideas, as they are still called. For it was an American idea to organize the carnival, to substitute the regular parades for the old impromptu mummery in the streets, and to unite into two or three great social assemblages the smaller public masked balls that were scattered through the season, from Twelfth Night to Mardi Gras. The modification was a necessary one in a place where society had so rapidly outgrown the limiting surveillance of a resident governor and of an autocratic court circle; and if much seems to have been lost of the old individual exuberance of wit and fun, specimens of which have come to us in so many fascinating episodes from the always socially enviable past, the gain in preserving at least the forms of the old society through the social upheaval and chaos of Revolution and Civil War has been real and important.
The celebration of Mardi Gras is an episode that never becomes stale to the people of the city, however monotonous the description or even the enumeration of its entertainments appears to strangers. At any age it makes a Creole woman young to remember it as she saw it at eighteen; and the description of what it appeared to the eyes of eighteen would be, perhaps, the only fair description of it; for if Mardi Gras means anything, it means illusion; and unfortunately when one attains ones majority in the legal world, one ceases to be a citizen of Phantasmagoria. (From Grace King's New Orleans.)
The organizations that hold the attention of New Orleans and its guests on Mardi Gras are Rex and Comus. The morning is given over to Rex parade, the early evening to Comus parade and the late evening to the balls of the two organizations. The king of the Rex organization is King of the Carnival. His arrival is heralded Lundi Gras, when he comes up the river from down near Jackson Barracks to the city with his flotilla. Prominent citizens go part way down the river to meet him and escort him to the City Hall where the Mayor presents him with a huge key—the key to the city. Then military and naval detachments, boys large and small from various military schools in the city, and prominent citizens from the advance guard for Rex himself, who rides on a gilded car that is followed by two of the King's Own Cavalry, and an express wagon of unusual size filled with the royal baggage, piled high and conspicuously labelled. All this is Monday—presumably morning, but really quite afternoon even for those who waited for the parade near its starting point. For those who saw it from Canal street, there was an additional hour's wait, and standing room only in the street cars after the parade had passed.
Tuesday morning, all the juvenile and most of the grown-up population is out early to see something of the maskers before time to go to an advantageous place from which to view Rex and his parade. The New Orleans people say that each year the number of maskers grows less and less. The majority of the maskers are little children of all classes; the grown-up people of the better classes have long since stopped dressing in the gay fancy dress of a Mardi Gras.
By ten o'c'ock on Tuesday morning a party of girls started out from their rendezvous for a position on St. Charles Avenue, on both sides of which Rex paraded before going to Canal Street. By twelve o'clock the parade had passed and they found themselves on the gallery of the Boston Club waiting again for Rex. The Boston Club is the place from which to see Rex. In the front row of seats built up in six or eight tiers on its gallery are reserved seats for the Queen of Carnival and her seven maids. The back row of seats and all the standing room are occupied by friends of members of the Boston Club to whom tickets of admission have previously been given. When the car bearing Rex approaches the gallery, the Queen and her maids rise to receive Rex who stops his car in front of the Queen, drinks to her health from a large silver loving cup and presents her with a beautiful bouquet of jonquils, violets and mignonette—yellow, purple and green—the carnival colors. The Queen bows and smiles and receives all this homage with queenly dignity. When Rex has passed on, there is a great rush in the Boston Club rooms for lunch which the club serves to its guests, those who have viewed the parade from its galleries or windows. At the Pickwick, the Chess, Checkers and Whist, and several other clubs, the club guests have been entertained in the same manner. After lunch every one hurries home as fast as he can find a car that has room for him. There is barely time to have dinner and to rest a little and to dress for the Comus parade and ball. Everyone prefers Comus to Rex ball for reasons other than that is the most beautiful of the organization balls held in the French Opera House. With the invitations are issued admit cards which mnst be presented at the door. The rule of first come, best seats, prevails at this as at all other balls, and because of this rule there is a large crowd of waiting guests before the doors as early as half after seven o'clock. Those who expect to have good seats at the Opera House have to forego the parade. Only the ladies occupy seats; their escorts may stand near them, and visit among them before the ball begins; but when the curtain rises they must be content to stand out of the way, so as not to obstruct the view, or find seats in the foyer or in the top gallery.
By nine o'clock all the seats are filled and those who come later must stand. At half past nine or ten the curtain goes up, and the King of Comus is seen seated on his throne served by two pages, and surrounded by his courtesies representative of the subject of their parade, scenes from well known operas. The King and all his courtiers are masked, and no one is supposed to recognize friends under these masks.
The orchestra plays and a herald comes from the throne forward on the stage which has been built out to the pillars supporting the first balcony. Under this balcony are seated the Queen-elect with her maids, and all the young ladies who have "call-outs," that is, those who have received cards notifying them that a masker wishes to dance one of the first four dances with her. The herald at the stage front reads the decree of the King naming his Queen, who rises and steps upon the stage. Three maids are chosen by three other heralds. A large and very elaborate mantel, ermine trimmed, is hung from the queen's shoulders, while a veil is fastened in the hair of each maid, and all are led up towards the throne and are met half way by the King. When the King has crowned his Queen and they are
seated on their throne, the other courtiers choose partners from among the "call-outs," and the first maskers' dance begins. There are usually four of these dances, and each time the masker presents his partner with an organization pin. The Queen and the maids receive beautiful pins, gold set with precious stones or pearls.
During this time Rex and his court have been holding their ball at Washington Artillary Hall. At twelve o'clock they come to Comus, when Comus King and Queen with their maids and heralds advance to the front of the stage to receive Rex and his Queen and court. Comus King leads them all back to his throne where the two kings and queens are seated through three or four dances, after which they withdraw to the Queen's box on the left of the stage.
After the first dances, which are strictly for maskers, the black-coats or gentlemen in evening dress, are permitted on the stage, and from that time on the dancing is general. Gradually the maskers disappear until there are few left; some leave the ball and go home, others remove their fancy dress and masks and come on the stage again as black-coats. Little by little the audience of six thousand people has been mingling with the dancers—the theater is emptying itself, and by half after two the last and most beautiful of the season's balls is over and Ash Wednesday services are only a few hours removed.
IDA GREELY SMITH.
VITAL QUESTIONS.
A SOLILOQUY.
"How can I be clever without work; how can I bluff quietly, jolly skillfully, crib frankly, and take twos as graciously as ones; how can I make the professors love me, the boys worship me and the girls adore me; how can I get my lessons and have callers every night; how can I cheerfully confess I am not going, when asked for a dance in the Hall; how can I get my friends on the party list; how can I decide what boy to take; how can I cheerfully give my last dance to a bore; how can I smile when my heart is breaking; how can I get to the next party?"
"THY SENTINEL AM I."
1. My lady fair, on Wednesdays At four o'clock descends Into my lady's parlor To welcome Beta friends.
2. They never disappoint her 'Twould be their loss, you see But last week, as it happened A Phi Delt came-at three.
3. He stayed till six three hours My lady thought it queer That on their special day, she saw No Beta men appear.
4. She pondered, puzzled,and at last Unto the window strolled And from it saw a startling sight, And this the story told.
5. Upon the front piazza sat In threatening posture, like A dragon of the olden time, The Phi Delt bull dog, "Phike!"
...
. In () .