THE DEAD VOODOO QUEEN
The New York Times - June 23, 1881
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. 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, 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. 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 ha had gone or what had become of
him, she was left neither wife nor widow. After waiting a year and still
no tidings of the missing Jacques, she consented to the be bride of
Capt. Christophe Dominique Glapion. 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 n 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 a n 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. 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 dependant 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 and 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 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 Saviour. 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 was 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. 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. 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 a 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 antecdotes 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 Legendre, the only survivor
of all Capt. Glapion's children, who possessed many of the
characteristics of her mother, Mme. Legendre 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 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.
