NO ONE KNOWS when the daughter first took the place of the mother and became "Marie Laveau." It seems there was no definite date when the transition took place, but rather that there was an occasional substitution at first, later a complete one. Stories of the youth and beauty of "Marie Laveau" late in the 1850's are the earliest indications of the substitution. The Widow Paris was then well past middle age. Yet Marie II understudied the role so successfully that all New Orleans historians have confused the two.
This other Marie was born on February 2, 1827, to Marie I and Christophe Glapion. Nothing is known of her early life. She was one of the many Glapion children inhabiting the St. Ann Street cottage, and why or when her mother chose her for the role she was to play--or whether she chose it for herself--remains a mystery. In any case, as Tony Miller, inmate in a home for the aged colored people of New Orleans, said, "The daughter lived her mother again."
Like her mother she was beautiful. There seems to have been a remarkable resemblance between them. This Marie Laveau was also tall and very straight. She had thick black hair that curled but slightly, a thin, straight nose and sensual
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lips. Her eyes were large, very black and rather startling. (There is the additional legend that their pupils were shaped like half-moons!) Her skin was smooth and her coloring somewhere between bronze and peach; she was probably lighter than her mother. Writers of the era tell of a "Voltairian look," a severe and penetrating expression invaluable to nurses of children, who had only to threaten to "give them to Marie Laveau," to curb any brewing disobedience.
This is the Marie Laveau old people usually remember. She inspired far more fear than the first. Half a legend, for some of this awe was based on tales of events that had actually occurred in relation to the Widow Paris, rather than to herself, she does seem to have been a sterner personality. Her prison work and her nursing of the yellow-fever victims revealed a warm core in Marie I; there is little indication of this in Marie II.
"She was a great woman," said old Tony. "She was sure hard-boiled and she liked the money, but she was great. When I remember her it was around 1870 and she was about forty years old, but looked younger. She was light and could have passed for a Spanish lady. She was big and well built, and the mens used to go kind of crazy lookin' at her. She had the reddest lips I ever seen in my life. She wore a tignon, wit' little curls hangin' down around her face, and she always had big gold hoops in her ears. She wore blue dresses made of cotton that had big skirts that went to the tops of her shoes, wit' a waist buttoned straight down the front and come in tight in the middle; it sure showed off her bust. She always wore long sleeves that puffed out at the shoulders, and there was buttons down the front of her skirt. I can see her now and if I was an artist I could paint her for you. She walked just like a queen."
Tony knew nothing of Marie I. "I ain't never heared of no other Marie Laveau," he said. "There was a crowd of people livin' in that house on St. Ann, but I never did know who they all was."
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The house had become crowded by the time Marie II was grown. Marie I had borne Glapion fifteen children and, though some of these bad died, there were grandchildren of various ages, sizes, and shades of color. There are accounts of the construction of an addition to the house; no doubt it was needed. Some of the children vanished completely--one daughter is said to have "married a white man and gone North"--nevertheless each year the household grew.
Like her mother, Marie II began her career as a hairdresser. During one period she left the family cottage and opened some sort of a hairdressing establishment, the location of which is designated as having been "on Royal Street down toward Esplanade." During another period she operated a place in Bourbon Street between Toulouse Street and St. Peter Street. The house is believed to be the first one in the block from Toulouse Street, on what Orleanians call "the river side," and had been the slave quarters of the house facing Toulouse, now a bar. It is still there. She had living quarters above the downstairs place of business and here she told fortunes and sold gris-gris. Later she returned to the Laveau household.
Raoul Desfrene, a "French Negro" of 77, remembered Marie II well and attended some of her rites when he was a boy of about fourteen. What impressed him most was the jewelry he said she wore, which included, besides the ponderous gold earrings, diamond and ruby clasps in her scarlet-and-blue tignons, many rings set with diamonds and other precious stones, a huge horseshoe brooch of diamonds and a heavy gold bracelet on each arm. "She sure used to dress up," he said.
He dismissed Marie I with, "There was an old lady living there, but nobody paid her no mind." Raoul enjoyed describing the home of the Laveaus. According to him there was an altar for "good luck and good work" in the front room. It was covered with a white cloth and held a statue of the Virgin and one of Saint Peter. Raoul recalled one of another saint,
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a Saint Marron, who, he explained, "was a colored saint white people don't know nothing about. Even the priests ain't never heard of him 'cause he's a real hoodoo saint."
But this altar in the front room was secondary to another at the back of the house, Raoul believed. "In the back," he said, "was the altar for bad work. On it was statues of a bear, a tiger, a lion and a wolf. Right in the middle was a big carved box with a snake inside it. That box and snake had been sent to Marie Laveau from Africa and that snake was the devil. I know that's true, 'cause I seen it myself, me."
Every Monday Marie went to the home of a Voodoo woman called Mama Antoine, which was located on Dumaine Street. It was "almost next door" to Raoul's home. "They used to hire me to go over and sing at the meetings," he said. "I used to have a good voice, and I sang at all them Mama Antoine meetings and sometimes at others they bad."
The Monday night gatherings were known as parterres. A feast was spread for the spirits present, on a white tablecloth laid on the floor. The food included congris, apples, oranges and red peppers. There were lighted candles in the four corners of the room; Raoul recalled their colors as red, blue, green and brown. He was certain they never used white. A Negro named Zizi played the accordion and among the women who always did Voodoo dances was Regina Nicaud, who later became a Voodoo queen, and a girl named Georgina Laveau, who was, Raoul thought, either sister, niece or daughter to Marie; even then he had not been clear about the relationship. There was also another woman he remembered as a "good Voodoo," and who was known as "Josephine Bayou."
Raoul could remember some of the gatherings near Lake Pontchartrain during that period. "They did the Fe Chauffe dance," he said. "I can't do it now, but it was wild. These was held out on a barge right in the lake sometimes. Seven or eight bottles was placed in a circle and the dancers had to dance around and all in between them. There was lots of little pots of fire all around the edge of the barge. You
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won't believe it, but them Fe Chauffe dancers balanced lighted candles on their heads the whole time they danced and the candle flames never went out. They used to drink lots of rum and champagne and everybody got howling drunk. They was a sight!
"There was a gang of white ladies what had money and they'd pay Marie Laveau ten dollars each to come to them Fe Chauffe dances. You'd see 'em come, all dressed up and wearin' thick veils, but when they sent their carriages away, they'd take off their shoes and stockings and all their clothes 'cept their chemises. Then they'd dance on the barges with lighted candles on their heads. Marie Laveau would stand in the middle and shake and sing, and they'd dance around her in a circle. You can't see nothing like that nowadays, no."
Raoul thought the last Fe Chauffe dance he saw took place in 1879. Marie I was in her eighties and bedridden.
In so far as reigning as queen of the celebrations on St. John's Eve is concerned Marie II did not often serve in that capacity. The position of the Laveaus had become so lofty in the Voodoo world that neither mother nor daughter was in that late period a mere queen, but rather a sort of "queen of queens," with less important women operating under their guidance. Accordingly, when Marie I was retired in 1869, one Eliza, a quadroon woman, was appointed to reign over the next year's rite. Numerous queens and witch doctors served under the supreme direction of one or the other of the Laveaus.
However, a reporter for the New Orleans Times attended the St. John's Eve affair of 1872 and found Marie Laveau (undoubtedly Marie II) presiding. On June 28 an account of the event was published in that paper as follows:
An obliging correspondent who was fortunate enough to reach the scene of the voudous incantation some hours before our reporter, sends us the following graphic description of the earlier portion of the ceremony. . . .
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On Monday morning (St. John's Day) I went to the French Market for the express purpose of finding out from an old negress, who sells in the market and whom I have known for years to be well posted--"she is one of them"--the exact spot where the Voudou Festival would be held this year. Knowing that I had attended many of them before, she told me immediately. She made me faithfully promise that I would tell no one.
Thus posted, I took the 8 o'clock train on the Pontchartrain Railroad. Arriving at the lake I fooled around a little; saw great crowds--all looking for the place, but very few, if any, knowing where it would be. I made up my mind not to walk or ride to the scene, so I hired a skiff and pulled to e mouth of Bayou St. John--the best way of getting from the lake end--the festival took place near Bayou Tchoupitoulas. Upon arriving at the shanty I found congregated about two hundred persons of mixed colors--white, black, and mulattoes. I knew the larger portion of them, and was received with pleasure. The ceremonies had not begun. A few moments after my arrival a large crowd arrived in a lugger, say about one hundred more, making a total of three hundred. Soon there arrived a skiff containing ten persons, among which was the Voudou Queen, Marie Lavaux {sic}. She was hailed with hurrahs.
The people were about equally divided male and female--a few more females. The larger Portion of the crowd Negroes and quadroons, but about one hundred whites, say thirty or forty men, the remainder women.
Upon the arrival of Marie Lavaux, she made a few remarks in Gumbo French, and ended them by singing, "Saiya ma coupê ça," to which all hands joined in the chorus of "Mamzelle Marie chauffez va."
It was then about eleven o'clock. The song ended, orders were given by the queen to build a fire as near the edge of the lake as possible, which was "did," every one being compelled to furnish a piece of wood for the fire, making a wish as they threw it on. Then a large caldron was put on
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the fire; it was filled with water brought in a beer barrel; then salt was put in by an old man, who jabbered something in Creole; then black pepper was put in by a young quadroon girl; she sang while putting in the pepper; then a box was brought up to the fire, from which was taken a black snake; he was cut in three pieces (the Trinity), one piece was put in by Marie Lavaux, one piece by the old man who put in the salt, and one piece by the young girl, who put in the pepper; then all joined in chorus of the same song: "Mamzelle Marie chauffez ça"; then the queen called for a "cat," it was brought, she cut its throat, and put it into the kettle.
Another repetition of the same chorus, then a black rooster was brought to the queen. She tied its feet and head together and put it in the pot alive. Repetition of the chorus. Then came an order from the queen for every one to undress, which all did, amid songs and yells. The queen then took from her pocket a shot bag full of white and colored powders. She gave orders for every one to join hands and circle around the pot. Then she poured the powders into the pot, sang a verse of some oracle song, to which all joined in a chorus while dancing around the pot, "C'est l'amour, oui Maman c'est l'amour, etc."
She then looked at her watch, and shouted Li minuit tous moune à l'eau--it is 12 o'clock all hands in the water--and everybody went into the lake, remained in the bath about half an hour. Upon coming out they began singing and dancing for another hour, when all were halted to listen to a speech by the queen. She preached her sermon, ending with, "I give you all half an hour recreation." Then the crowd scattered promiscuously. In half an hour the horn was blown (a sea shell), and all hands hurried back to the queen, and set up another chorus to a verse she sang to the same tune as the first one.
After the song she said "You can now eat," [and] those who brought victuals, such as gumbo, jambalaya, etc., all began eating and drinking until the horn was again blown,
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when all hurried to the pot, the fire was put out from under it, water thrown on and around it by four nude black women, with white handkerchiefs on their heads. During this time the chorus was kept up of "Mamzelle Marie Chauffez . . ." Then the whole contents of the pot was poured back into the same barrel the water was taken from, the queen saying, as this was done, pour l'année prochaine (for the next year).
The queen then said: "You must all dress up again," which was "did." The bugle was again sounded, all hands joined around the queen. She preached another sermon, at the close of which all knelt down to Pray and receive her benediction. Another chorus of C'est l'amour, oui Maman c'est l'amour, during which day began to break. Then the queen said: "Here is day, we must welcome it with song, and all go home." I took my skiff, left them there, pulled to Pontchartrain Railroad, and came back into the city.
This scene seems to have been fairly representative of the spectacles the white people who sought to view a Voodoo gathering were permitted to attend.
Mattie O'Hara, a white woman of Irish extraction, who lived for seventy-one years near the lake front, said that Marie Laveau appeared at several St. John's Eve meetings out there. "It was the only time she come," said the old lady. "Other times she let the other queens hold the dances. My mother told me with her own tongue about how they carried on, and my mother never spoke a word in her life that wasn't God's own truth. On St. John's Eve this whole section was looking like a scene in hell with the fires of their torches and their burning pots and bonfires. My mother never went near them except for three years when her curiosity got the better of her good sense. It was all very immoral. The police would come out sometimes, but she--that Laveau woman--would hoodoo them and they would take off their clothes, too. Can you imagine all them people, white and colored, dancing around like devils, and all of them naked as jaybirds? They
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would all run out into the water and carry on out there. One man with a big voice would sing, 'Going to go swimming right in St. John's Lake?' And they'd all answer him, and sing, 'Yes, Little John!'"
Mrs. O'Hara made the sign of the Cross. "My mother used to sing that to me sometimes and I'd shiver," she said. "I could feel the devil breathing down my neck. She could do it just like them hoodoos. 'Going to go swimming right in St. John's Lake? Yes, Little John!'
"One of the worst things about that Laveau woman was she could steal anybody's husband from her. I know many a man left his family to try to get next to Marie Laveau. The funny thing was most of the time men couldn't get nowhere with her. They just followed her around like dogs. That was because they was hoodooed. She put a spell on them. She was a wicked, evil woman and she talked to the devil."
Old Voodoos and their descendants remember the "Wishing Spot" near Lake Pontchartrain, a place which seems to have played an important role in the ceremonies conducted by Marie II. Its exact location is now unknown, but it must have once attracted thousands of persons.
According to most of the accounts, to reach the Wishing Spot the devotees crossed Esplanade Street Bridge, then walked about half a mile along the curves of Bayou St. John. Here a particular type of ceremony was performed. The queen, the chosen king and an assistant--often called the 'valet"--took positions, the queen in the center, the king on one side, the valet on the other. Each placed the left hand over the heart and stretched the other over the water, and retained that position for some minutes, meditating upon the wishes they desired granted. The devotees would assume similar postures behind the three dignitaries, each also meditating upon his wish. There was a period of perfect silence. The trio would then approach the water, bend low over it and murmur certain secret words in the "unknown tongue," which no one, but the three could understand. Then, suddenly, at
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a signal from the queen, they would all leap into the water, chanting in unison, "Nous allons mourir dans ce lac, c'est vrai! Nous allons mourir dans ce lac!" After this, when the drenched cultists emerged, a feast of gumbo and chicken was served. The Voodoos always ate at the conclusion of their ceremonies.
The Wishing Spot appears in no accounts of the Voodoos until 1875, so it was probably the invention of Marie II.
Orleanians visited the Wishing Spot for years, and then at last forgot where it was. Gloria White, a colored schoolteacher, recalled her grandmother's description of the Wishing Spot.
"When I was little my grandmother was always talking about it," she said. "Sometimes she'd go off on mysterious journeys for a whole day and come back to tell us she had made a wish. The strange part is she always got them. I guess she was one of the few old people left who knew where it was. If I had been older I would have made her tell me, but I was too young to think of that then. I know I believed it all then, and when she went off to the Wishing Spot to make her wish it was just like somebody going to a store to buy something. She told us hundreds of people used to believe in it when she was young. They always went on Friday, sometimes at noon, sometimes at three in the afternoon and sometimes at midnight. The Wishing Spot was really an old tree trunk near the edge of the bayou. They would stand there ten rows deep, wishing and praying. Sometimes they bowed down to the tree stump, and they would drop money in it before they left. I guess Marie Laveau made money that way.
"But even after she was gone people kept on going there. One of the things I remember my grandmother saying was that they went in all kinds of weather--even in storms. My grandmother used to say, too, that more white people went than Negroes. I wonder how many people believed in it."
Marie II had many profitable activities. For one thing, she
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greatly increased the reputation of the name of "Marie Laveau" as a procuress. Her mother had built the Maison Blanche and had sometimes arranged meetings between white men and colored girls. Marie II let it be known that her services were always available in this particular field of endeavor.
One white man in downtown New Orleans claimed to have attended such an affair at the Maison Blanche.
"I'll tell you the truth," he said bluntly, "the way I see it that place wasn't nothing but a fancy kind of whorehouse, and Marie Laveau was the Madame. She had some special tricks going on out there that the young fellows used to like. You would arrange it in advance by sending somebody to her house on St. Ann Street. She would fix a date--usually a Saturday night--to have her gals out there, as many as there was fellows in the party. It cost a lot because there was plenty of food and wine and champagne. You had to give ten dollars for each girl, besides paying for the stuff. Marie Laveau didn't fool with no pikers.
"The girls all danced with you naked and everybody drank lots of liquor and got higher 'n hell. After a while, when the guys got all heated up, the girls would start acting cute and running away from them. They always fought and carried on, but whatever gal you caught was yours. Marie Laveau always sat in a rocking chair in one comer of the room, saying her beads and watching what was going on. She never fooled with anybody herself. Of course that was around 1885 and she was about sixty years old."
A restaurateur at a present-day resort near the lake had heard of the Maison Blanche.
"It was one large room with whitewashed walls inside and out," he said. "Marie Laveau used to bring nine or ten light-skinned colored gals out there every Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday night. No Negro men were allowed, but there were always a lot of fancy white sports with checkered vests, and sometimes some of the city politicians. From what I've heard it was just a meeting place. They'd eat and drink some
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liquor and maybe dance a little, but then they took the girls off in their carriages. There're so many stories you don't know what went on there exactly, but I don't think it had anything to do with religion."
The stories do vary so much that it is difficult to verify tales about the Maison Blanche. Most, like the above, are merely hearsay. But Pop Abou, who despite his strange name is a meek little Negro in his eighties, with failing eyesight, swears he knows the truth.
"I remembers it like yesterday," said Pop. "A lot of folks sure is mixed up. I knows the truth and I wasn't old and blind then. I been to plenty of Marie Laveau's dances. It's true they was lots of white men and yellow gals at that house. Marie Laveau did that for money. But she never had no food there and she never had no champagne. She was too smart to lose her profits that way. She had beer and wine. The only music they used was a drum made out of a barrel with a piece of skin stretched over it, and she hired a nigger to beat that with his hands.
"But them dances was only a side line with her and they didn't have anything to do with hoodoo. At the real hoodoo dances she bad people coming from all over the world. Some of them left her money and that's all she was after. When the polices come messin' around she would holler at 'em, 'Shut that goddam door!' There wasn't no door when they was all out there in the open, but that meant for them to get away because they wasn't wanted. And they used to get out. She could have a policeman fired with one snap of her fingers and she could get one promoted with two snaps. Sometimes she used hoodoo, to do that and sometimes she just walked. into a big politician's office and said 'Do it! I is Marie Laveau and I wants it done.' And he knew better 'n not to do. If he didn't something awful bad was sure gonna happen to him. That's the truth. A lot of things they say about her is lies, but that is true. You may not believe it, but that woman was the real boss of New Orleans."
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