The New York Times
June 23, 1881
(Annotated by Randy Bibb)
(Annotated by Randy Bibb)
THE DEAD VOUDOU QUEEN
Marie Laveau's place
in the history of New Orleans.
The early life of the
beautiful young Creole - the prominent men
who sought her advice
and society – her charitable work –
how she became an
object of mystery.
New-Orleans, Jun 21 - Marie
Laveau, the "Queen of the Voudous" died last Wednesday at the
advanced age of 98 years.[1] To
the superstitious Creoles Marie appeared as a dealer in the black arts and a
person to be dreaded and avoided. Strange stories were told of the rites
performed by the sect of which Marie was the acknowledged sovereign. Many old
residents asserted that on St. John's
night, the 24th of June, the Voudou clan had been seen in deserted places
joining in wild, weird dances, all the participants in which were perfectly
nude.
The Voudous were thought to be
invested with supernatural powers, and men sought them to find means to be rid
of their enemies, while others asked for love powders to instill affection into
the bosoms of their unwilling or unsuspecting sweethearts. Whether there ever
was any such sect, and whether Marie was ever its Queen, her life was one to
render such a belief possible. Besides knowing the secret healing qualities of
the various herbs that grow in abundance in the woods and fields, she was
endowed with more than the usual share of common sense, and her advice was
oft-times really valuable and her penetration remarkable. Adding to these
qualities the gift of great beauty, no wonder that she possessed a large
influence in her youth and attracted the attention of Louisiana's greatest men and most
distinguished visitors. She was the creature of that peculiar state of society
in which there was no marrying or giving in marriage; yet they were not like
the angels in heaven.
Marie was the descendant of an
old slave woman on her mother's side on the other had the best French blood of Louisiana coursed in her
veins. She was born in the golden days of Spanish Louisiana, just at the time
when the gallant boy-Governor, Galvez, co-operating with the struggling
colonies in the East, had driven the British out of the Gulf
of Mexico. She was 19 years old when the flag of freedom was
unfurled from the flag-staff of the Place d'Armes,[2]
the flag that brought with it new prejudices against old social customs and the
Black Code, which made marriage between black and white a penal offense, while
the interblending of the races with a matter which the law left uninterfered
with by any statutory prohibition.
This beautiful, bright-eyed
intelligent little Creole, while the men who made New Orleans famous in those days were almost
in daily attendance upon her, admiring her charms and enjoying conversation was
lead to the altar by Jacques Paris, a carpenter of her own color.[3]
The ceremony took place at the St. Louis Cathedral. Pere Antoine officiating,
and Mazereau the brilliant leader of the Bar being one of the witnesses. The
union was short and a happy one. When Marie had been wedded only one year,
Jacques suddenly disappeared and as no one knew where he had gone or what had
become of him, she was left neither wife nor widow.[4]
After waiting a year and still no
tidings of the missing Jacques, she consented to be the bride of Capt.
Christophe Dominique Glapion.[5]
The latter seems to have been a man of much character and served with
distinction throughout the war of 1815 as ordinance officer in d'Aquin's
gallant San Domingo battalion. When a peace was established, Marie became more
sought after than ever. She lived all her life in a little adobe house covered
with red tiles, situated in St. Ann between
Rampart and Burgundy
streets. It was built by the early French settlers 150 years ago. Not a brick
was employed in its construction. The walls were formed of a peculiar combination
of clay and moss. The entrances were made very low and the panes of glass in
the door were of small size and peculiar make. When this interesting residence
was erected, it stood on the very outskirts of the town. Rampart Street was
then a wilderness, and later it became a line of intrenchment. At that time the
cottage was considered the handsomest dwelling house in the place. All the
other houses then existing have been torn down and more modern buildings sprung
up, so that the quaint Laveau mansion, with the high, half-broken-down fence in
the front and the branches of several ancient trees peeping over seems a relic
of the New Orleans
of long ago.
In this place, Marie received the
celebrities of the day. Lawyers, legislators, planters, merchants all came to
pay their respects to her and seek her offices, and the narrow room heard as
much with and scandal as any of the historical salons of Paris. There were business men who would not
send a ship to sea before consulting her upon the probabilities of the voyage.
Marie entertained her guests in royal style. Her cuisine was excellent, and all
who possessed characteristics entitling them to more than ordinary
consideration were welcome at her table. Those who came from the parishes or
other States were compelled to take up their quarters under her roof, for she
would allow no other house to be called more hospitable than her own.
Coming in daily contact with the
best informed men of that period, and possessing a remarkably retentive memory,
it is no wonder that she acquired a large store of valuable information. She
was by no means backward in delivering her opinions and as her predictions
nearly always came true, and the course she suggested generally proved the
wisest, Marie soon possessed a larger clientele than the most astute and
far-seeing legal counselor. And it was not alone for advice that men and women
of all conditions called on her. Her skill in medicine, already referred to,
and her ability as a nurse made her desirable at the sick-bed. Marie had a
large, warm heart and tender nature and never refused a summons from the
suffering, no matter how dangerous the disease. Wherever she went, she labored
faithfully and earned life-long friends. During yellow fever and cholera
epidemics she proved herself a noble, disinterested woman going from patient to
patient administering to the wants of each and saving many from death.
People were not all as
enlightened and unprejudiced as they are now, and failing to understand how she
arrived at her conclusions, they could imagine no better source than Voudouism.
At first she encouraged this idea and delighted to cover her actions with an
air of mystery. Nurses would frighten their charges into silence by the mention
of the name of the Voudou Queen, and the children thus grew up in fear of her.
Many older people had more real cause to dread Marie. There were very few
secrets of any nature which she did not know. Wherever there was a skeleton in
the family closet Marie held the key.[6]
But she was true to the confidence
reposed in her and did not turn her knowledge to any unjust advantage. She knew
of many proud homes where a whisper concerning the taint of colored blood would
have spread consternation, but she was silent and did not even extort money for
not overthrowing their standing in society. She was often placed on the stand
to testify concerning such matters but no threats of imprisonment could force
her to unseal her lips. It was only where the family had become haughty and
arrogant and were cruel and brutal to their dependent that she told all she
knew, and her disclosures brought terrible disgrace upon those who had called
forth her wrath. In moment of passion she shrieked out imprecations and curses
and her relatives say, and tremble when they tell it, that even when she
launched the doom of death against those who had merited her displeasure, her
words came true, the victims expiring with frightful agonies at the stated
time.
Capt. Glapion died on June 26,
1855 leaving Marie who had been the mother of his 15 children[7] to
mourn his loss. His death caused a great change in her life, and she turned to
the Church, which she never has been accused of deserting, for consolation. Not
only did she increase her own devotion, but loved to bring others into its
bosom. Marie would often visit the cells of the condemned and turn the thoughts
of those soon to be led out to atone for their crimes to their Savior. Her
coming was considered a blessing by the prisoners because if they could only
excite her pity her powerful influence would often obtain their pardon or at
least a commutation of sentence.
About five years after the death
of her husband she became ill and was some time confined to her bed. As she
grew older her ills increased and finally she could scarcely leave her bed. She
lay in a large old-fashioned walnut bedstead. In the front room of the little
house which she had never left and in which her mother had lived before her.
When her eyes opened in the morning, and before their closing at night, they
rested on sacred pictures and crucifixes. She erected an altar in her room and
tapers were kept burning night and day.
Although no more of the gay
scenes of her former years were enacted in the house, it was still open to all
comers who were welcome to food and lodging. She gave advice with the same
willingness as ever, and never ceased in her endeavors to accomplish good. She
had through her practices acquired some money, which she invested in property,
the revenue of which, and the contributions of people she had befriend, served
to support her in her declining years. She lay in her bed through many long
days, bearing ill-will toward no one, listening to the conversation of the
unfortunates who crowded her yard, for they had but to push the gate and enter,
and were never disturbed.
Marie always remained true to the
people of her section and during the war of rebellion she did all in her power
to assist the Southern interest, biding and caring for the devotees of the
"lost cause" and their property at the risk of her won goods and
liberty.
Before her memory became weakened
by age and illness, she was full of arch reminiscences which she delighted to
relate to those who understood how to question her. A favorite subject with her
was the life of her father, to whose picture she would refer her auditor. He
was greatly honored and served in the Legislature of the State. She spoke of a
visit of his to San Domingo and a breakfast, which he gave there upon which he
expended thousands of dollars.[8]
She alluded in touching terms to Gov. Claiborne's young Tennessee bride who
died soon after her arrival here, and was carried with her dead babe upon her
bosom to a lonely grave in the corner of Old American Cemetery.
Mazereau was a favorite of hers.
It being said by some that he was one of the most ardent of her youthful
lovers.[9]
Sometimes she told of the strange little man, with the bright, glittering eyes,
Aaron Burr, who spoke so pleasantly, while he was so dangerous. He sought her
out and enlisted her sympathy the day after he came ashore at the levee, and
though she thought him a strange, bad man, his future history always concerned
her, and she eagerly sought news of his movements. She was proud of her
interview with Lafayette, who, when he visited New Orleans, over 50 years ago, called at her
house and printed a warm kiss upon her forehead at parting.
Marie Laveau was one of the band
of colored people who escorted to the tomb, long since dismantled, in the old
Catholic cemetery, the remains of the scarred and grizzly French General
Humbert. The hero of the Castelbar was often a visitor at her house and she was
rich with anecdotes concerning him. The pious Father Antoine, of blessed
memory, met her often at the bedside of the dying, she to ease their sufferings
during their last moments in this life, and he to give hope of salvation in the
life beyond.
Marie Laveau, one of the most
wonderful women who ever lived, passed peaceably away. Her daughter Mme.
Philomel[10]
Legendre, the only survivor of all Capt. Glapion's children, who possessed many
of the characteristics of her mother, Mme. Legendre's two pretty daughters,
ministered to the old lady's last wants. She died without a struggle, with a
smile lighting up her shriveled features. She was interred in her family tomb,
by the side of Capt. Glapion. In the old St. Louis
Cemetery, and with her is buried the
most thrilling portion of the unwritten records of Louisiana. Although Marie Laveau's history
has been very much sought after, it has never been published. Cable[11]
has endeavored to portray her in the character of Palmyre in his novel of the
"Grandissimes." The secrets of her life, however, could only be
obtained from the old lady herself, but she would never tell the smallest part
of what she knew, and now her lips are closed forever and, as she could neither
read nor write, not a scrap is left to chronicle the events of her exciting
life.
[1] She was
born in 1801, so she was actually 79 years old.
[2] Her
birth record indicates that the was born on September 16, 1801 – She would have been two years at the time of
the Louisiana Purchase.
[3] Their
marriage contract was drawn on July 27, 1819; they married August 4, 1819. They had 2 children together.
[4] The fate
of Jacques Paris is unknown – he was living in 1822 when their first daughter
was baptized. His second daughter’s
baptism in 1824 lists him as being deceased.
Because of the absence of a death certificate it is assumed he abandoned
Marie and family but in all likelihood he died and his death record is lost to
history.
[5] They
never married. Instead, they lived in a
common law union. Although Marie Laveau
went for the rest of life identifying as “Widow Paris” (and is recorded on her
tomb that way) her death record calls her “Dame Glapion,” indicating that she
was acknowledged as Glapion’s spouse, even though there was no wedding between
them.
[6] Interesting
to note that there is no mention of her having been a hair dresser. Had she been so, it certainly would have been
in her biography.
[7] They had
7 children; they did, however, take in foster children which are probably,
erroneously, included in the number.
[8] Marie’s
father was never in the State Legislature, nor is there any evidence that he
went to San Domingo (Haiti)
nor accumulated wealth. If she actually
did make this claim it was simply the over-embellishment of pride.
[9] There is
no evidence that this is so.
[10] Her
name is actually Philomene. The fact
that this obituary says she “possessed many of the characteristics of her
mother” is one possible source of the legend of the second Marie Laveau. Philomene vehemently decried voodoo and
denied that her mother was ever a practitioner of it.
[11] George
Washington Cable – noted Louisiana
author.
