Hogan Jazz Archive, Tulane University
In 1682, the French explorer Robert Cavelier de La Salle set out from the Great Lakes and canoed down to the mouth of the Mississippi River, claiming its great watershed for Louis XIV. La Salle, a fur trader in Quebec more concerned with his own enrichment than with the crown’s glory, returned to France and presented Louis with a false map showing the river’s mouth close to Spain’s silver mines in New Mexico, thereby winning the king’s support to establish a colony. La Salle died before he could successfully set it up. But the French crown, competing with Britain and Spain for control of North America, sponsored a series of attempts to build a foothold in the marshy swamps of the Mississippi’s delta.
It wasn’t until 1718 that a French settlement of any permanence was established in the region. In that year, La Nouvelle-Orléans was founded adjacent to a centuries- old portage site, where the area’s Houma and Choctaw people dragged canoes between the river and a large inland bay, across whose shallow waters lay the nearby Gulf of Mexico. The centerpiece of a colonial venture by which France’s ruler, the Duc d’Orleans, hoped to enrich his treasury through a newly chartered Company of the Indies, his namesake city was laid out on ambitious lines. Willing settlers were scarce, though, and no riches were forthcoming.
Effectively abandoned by the French crown in 1731, the colony was governed from that time by local elites, its levee becoming a bustling free-for-all of traders peddling everything from Mississippi furs to Martinique sugar and Mexican ceramics and maize. New Orleans’s reputation as a low swamp of race-mixing and sin was present from the start and–as Shannon Lee Dawdy shows in Building the Devil’s Empire, her penetrating study of the colony’s founding–cited frequently as the explanation for its “failure.”
In French New Orleans, “smuggling not only helped fill the gaps of collapsed mercantilism,” Dawdy writes, “it was the basis of the local political economy.” Dawdy belabors this point throughout her book, which is slowed at times by bumpy prose, but she shows clearly how Nouvelle-Orléans–with its intra-American trade and tenuous ties to the metropole–became, by the 1740s, a self-consciously Creole place. (Here, she defines Creole as a person of European or African descent born in the New World, hewing to “the eighteenth-century Louisiana meaning of ‘native born'”–as opposed to the later widespread use of the word to connote cultural mixing or hybridity.) That Creole identity informed France’s decision to let the estranged colony go, as Louis XV handed it off to his cousin Carlos III and Spain, who in 1768 encountered a Creole revolt–a sign that this “rogue colony” (Dawdy’s phrase) would not be an easy rule.
What is unique about New Orleans, as Ned Sublette recounts in The World That Made New Orleans, an absorbing history of the city’s rise, is how its identity was shaped by three colonial eras in rapid succession. As Sublette traces in his brisk longue durée account of New Orleans’s first century, the Spanish–whose era began in earnest a few months after the Creoles’ revolt–brought with them new laws, a new language and a new influx of African slaves. In the event, the Creoles didn’t do badly; intra-Caribbean trade remained their lifeblood. The colony’s permanent population, fed by an influx of German planters, Spanish merchants and French Acadians expelled from British Canada, rose from some 2,500 in 1760 to more than 8,000 in 1800, transforming a dissolute town into a bustling small city.