Beauregard-Keyes House and Garden, New Orleans

The Beauregard-Keyes House is the kind of French Quarter residence where architecture, literature, military history, and a very serious love of collectibles all share the same address. Built in the 1820s on land once used by the Ursuline nuns, it blends Creole cottage roots with Greek Revival polish.

Its features make a graceful entrance: a Palladian façade, curved twin staircases, a Tuscan portico, and a dining room spacious enough to make an ordinary meal feel like a historical reenactment. The house is also associated with Confederate General Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard, a New Orleans native, who ordered the first shots of the Civil War and remained a celebrated figure in the South long after the conflict ended. His connection adds a complicated and important layer to the building’s story.

Then came Frances Parkinson Keyes, the author who arrived in 1945 looking for a place to live and write, and apparently decided that a modest desk by a window would not do. Over the next 25 years, she restored the house to its Victorian character and wrote several books, including one set in the house itself with General Beauregard as a character. Another of her novels drew on the life of Paul Morphy, grandson of the original owner and one of the great chess minds of the modern era.

Keyes was also an enthusiastic collector, and the house duly reflects her passion. Visitors can see antique dolls, French sofas, rare porcelain teapots, folk costumes, fans, and her remarkable collection of nightlights — reportedly the second-largest of its kind in the world.

Guided tours of the house usually run Monday through Saturday, on the hour, from 10 am to 3 pm, and last about 45 minutes.

The tour ends in a small but well-stocked gift shop, with admission paid at the end. Even without time for the full visit, pause at the gates near Chartres and Ursulines streets for a look at the walled garden. It blooms year-round, follows the same sun pattern as Jackson Square, and proves that in New Orleans, even the plants understand stage presence...