The Ghost of Pere
Antoine
Like the architecture of the French
Quarter of New Orleans, Pere Antoine
(known to the Spanish as Antonio de
Sedella) was an inheritance from the
Spanish regime. His death, on January
18, 1829 was looked upon in Louisiana,
by “Catholic and Protestant
alike, as a calamity. All New Orleans
went into mourning. The funeral rites
were observed with a pomp hitherto
unknown to the city.” The old
friar was laid to rest in St. Louis
Cathedral among the people he had
served to selflessly. It was widely
believed that Pere Antoine had been
a living saint.
Père Antoine
at Age Seventy-Four
Edmund Brewster (c. 1784/94-)
1822
Painter and engraver Edmund Brewster
was among the many artists who came
to Louisiana from the northern states
in the early nineteenth century. These
artists largely earned their living
soliciting portrait commissions from
the growing middle class of planters
and merchants. Brewster arrived in
New Orleans from Philadelphia in 1819
and was recognized as a young artist
of unusual merit. One of his first
paintings finished in the city, a
copy of Gilbert Stuart’s portrait
of George Washington, was purchased
by the New Orleans City Council.
In 1822 he was commissioned by the
St. Louis Cathedral to paint this
imposing, larger than life-size portrait
of Père Antoine (Padre Antonio
de Sedella) placed before an archway.
Even though the elderly Père
is shown barefooted in his simple
brown robe, the rendering gives a
sense of the presence and convictions
of the man. The museum also has Edmund
Brewster’s engraving of a bust
view of Père Antoine. Based
on a smaller oil painting, the engraving
is one of the earliest known portraits
printed in New Orleans.
Despite a stormy career
as a priest under the Spanish government
and during the early American years
in New Orleans, Père Antoine
was popular with his parishioners.
But many of the older Creoles remembered
Pere Antoine differently: as the Spanish
bigot he had been during his early
years in the New World. They recalled
how in the late 1780’s he had
fought in vain to set up in Louisiana
the Holy Office of the Inquisition.
They also remembered that fifteen
years later, after the purchase of
the territory by the United States,
he again fought in vain to keep New
Orleans in the diocese of the Bishop
of Havana. Still, the younger generation
recalled only that Pere Antoine was
a man of God, dedicated body and soul
to fulfilling the vows he took upon
becoming a Capuchin.
He lived on the Rue Dauphine, in
a wooden hut which he had built with
his own hands. On the stretch of turf
in front of the kennel-like structure
he had planted a date palm. By 1828
the tree was big enough to provide
shade for the 80 year old friar as
he sat on a stool in his doorway listening
to the accounts of distress poured
into his ears by this suppliant and
that.
Every day he made his tour of visits
to the sick. No man was more frequently
seen walking the streets of New Orleans
than tall, thin Pere Antoine, cowled
and sandaled, no matter what the weather,
his brown eyes shining and white beard
flying. Often on a mission of mercy
he crossed Canal Street and entered
a Protestant home in the American
faubourg. To Pere Antoine the sick
were the sick, whatever their religion
might be. Marvelous tales were told
of the physical endurance he manifested
when one of the ever-recurring epidemics
of yellow fever struck New Orleans.
It was said that he went without sleep
for weeks at a stretch, spending every
hour of the twenty-four in comforting
the stricken, administering last rites,
and burying the dead. No one, it was
declared, ever saw him take food from
the beginning of an epidemic to the
end. It was said that so long as Yellow
Jack loitered Pere Antoine’s
strength was sustained by a flow of
manna that entered his body with the
air he breathed.
In his lifetime of service to St.
Louis Cathedral, he is said to have
baptized Marie Laveau and many of
her children, performed her wedding
ceremony and, together with her, did
much to advance the state of the poor,
the imprisoned, and the slave population
in New Orleans. Pere Antoine officiated
at the baptism and the wedding of
Marie Aimee Brusle, the mother of
child prodigy and America’s
first great composer, Louis Moreau
Gottschalk, and another of the many
ghosts that haunt the darkened alcoves
of St. Louis Cathedral.
As news of his death spread through
the City of New Orleans, throngs of
the faithful, convinced in their hearts
that Pere Antoine was a saint, demolished
the hut on the Rue Dauphine. Even
the slightest splinter of wood was
carried away to be preserved as a
holy relic. No two in New Orleans
appear to have agreed on what happened
to the date palm. In the many legends
which tell of its miraculous powers
its actual history was lost.
Yet, if many reports that come to
us today are to be believed, Pere
Antoine is still busily serving his
beloved church and city, even from
the afterlife.
Many people have seen Pere Antoine’s
ghostly figure, clad in Capuchin black
and sandals, just as in life, walking
slowly down the small alleyway that
runs alongside the Cathedral and bears
his name. Visitors and locals alike
report seeing the apparition in Pere
Antoine’s Alley in the early
morning hours when the French Quarter
is most quiet; on misty winter afternoons
his ghostly form has been seen treading
through the Cathedral garden on Royal
Street. Eyewitnesses say that he is
almost always reading his breviary,
or book of prayers, and seems oblivious
to anyone nearby. But others have
encountered the ghostly priest rushing
through the streets surrounding the
Cathedral, perhaps on some urgent
mission from beyond the grave.
French Quarter residents and regulars
are, in fact, accustomed to seeing
Pere Antoine’s ghost at all
hours of the day and night, and in
unexpected places. One recent account
tells of a local woman who was rushing
through Pere Antoine’s Alley
on a rainy afternoon. Tottering on
high heels, she tripped on one of
the uneven alley flagstones and fell
straight into the arms of a black-robed
man with a white beard and surprised
expression. He said nothing as he
helped her gain her balance; when
the woman turned to thank him, the
man was gone. The woman further claimed
that a sense of overwhelming peace
came over her that afternoon and she
fully believes she encountered not
a ghost, but a saint.
Another local who works for a nearby
cigar shop claims to have presented
Pere Antoine with a free sample of
the shop’s wares when, one evening
as he was about to end his shift,
he was approached by a priest wearing
a black frock and looking sternly
at him. The local smiled and said,
“Take one, they’re free!”
Pere Antoine’s ghost then took
the cigar from the man and walked
away. Again, when the cigar shop worker
turned back around, the ghostly priest
was nowhere to be seen.
Worshippers at St. Louis Cathedral’s
Christmas Vigil Midnight Mass have
reported witnessing the ghostly form
of Pere Antoine, easily recognized
from the 1822 portrait of him that
hangs in the church vestibule, walking
near the left side of the main altar
carrying a single, white taper. Others
have reported the ghost’s appearance
in the choir loft – a sighting
that, though a regular occurrence
during the holidays, is always alarming.
Others say that Pere Antoine particularly
loves to show up for the practices
and performances of the St. Louis
Cathedral Children’s Choir.
He has been seen sitting quietly in
an otherwise empty pew, facing the
altar, but swaying to the strains
of the children’s voices; he
is always smiling when he appears
listening to the children and the
music seems to give his spirit great
pleasure.
Many people have speculated on why
such a saintly man might still be
haunting the familiar surroundings
of his earthly life. Though some have
suggested that, despite all his good
works, Pere Antoine continues to haunt
the great Cathedral because of the
harm and trouble caused by his wayward
youth, most feel that the old friar
is simply still intimately connected
with his parishioners and the church
that was his personal charge for so
many, many years.
The Ghost of Pere
Dagobert
Pere Dagobert was a Capuchin monk
who became pastor of St. Louis Church
in 1745. Another great champion of
the poor and disenfranchised, Pere
Dagobert was far from being the image
of a quiet, prayerful friar. He is
described as a man with an immensely
charismatic personality, a great sense
of humor, and a heart full of charity.
When the City of New Orleans was
ceded to Spain in 1764 there was instant
fear and rebellion among the French.
When the French monarchy refused a
petition on behalf of their Louisiana
colonists to preserve New Orleans
for France, a revolt was quickly organized.
Six men – respected locally
and never before associated with such
an act – organized a rebellion
against the new Spanish regime. These
men – Lafreniere, Noyan, Caresse,
Marquis, Milhet and Villere –
were all heads of families well known
to Pere Dagobert, families whose religious
life he had guided for many years.
In March of 1766, the first Spanish
governor, Don Antonio de Ulloa, a
man hated and reviled among the citizenry,
fled in the face of the rebellion
and took refuge in Havana.
In response, Spain sent a fleet of
24 ships to New Orleans under the
command of Don Alejandro O'Reilly,
an Irish expatriate, now fighting
for Spain: The rebellion was crushed
and the leaders were all arrested.
On October 24, 1769, after a long
imprisonment and the rejection of
all appeals from prominent citizens
and leaders of the church (including
Pere Dagobert), five of the original
conspirators were executed by firing
squad near what is now Jackson Barracks;
the sixth, Villere, had died from
a bayonet wound in prison.
As an example against further rebellion,
O’Reilly refused to allow the
men to be buried and the corpses were
left to rot where they fell. New Orleanians,
Spanish and French alike, were appalled
by this and the by the fact that O’Reilly,
a Catholic, would deprive the men
a decent Christian burial. Despite
the outcry, O’Reilly would not
relent and placed the swiftly decomposing
bodies under the watchful eye of a
Spanish garrison.
One night, however, something happened
that has never yet been explained.
Pere Dagobert appeared at the home
of the slain men and summoned their
grieving families to the St. Louis
Cathedral. When they arrived, they
found that the bodies of their dead
had somehow been brought to the Cathedral
and had been laid out with the utmost
care; Pere Dagobert stood by to perform
the funeral mass. Then, under the
cover of a heavy mist, the bodies
of the men were taken to St. Louis
Cemetery No. 1 where they were secretly
buried in unmarked graves out of fear
the Spanish would seek to desecrate
the final resting place and remove
the bodies.
When word reached O’Reilly
that the bodies of the five conspirators
had somehow vanished from the Spanish
garrison, he went himself to inspect
the scene and questioned every guard
who had been on watch the night the
bodies disappeared. To a man, they
all stated that they had been standing
watch on an otherwise clear night
when suddenly a thick fog began to
roll in through the barracks gates.
Soon, they said, there came the sound
of muffled prayers and then the black-clad
figure of Pere Dagobert appeared at
the gate, apparently to pray for the
pathetic corpses. At one point, when
the fog was thickest, completely obscuring
the bodies, the voice of Pere Dagobert
singing the “Kyrie” wafted
through the heavy silence of the night.
When the black friar had completed
his litany, he turned away and left
the gate. Some time later, when the
fog receded, to the amazement and
dismay of the guards, the bodies of
the rebel leaders had simply vanished…
According to old New Orleans legends
Pere Dagobert still sings the Kyrie
in a heavenly voice before the high
altar of St. Louis Cathedral when
the church is empty and closed for
the night. Many have reported seeing
a light moving from window to window
as the phantom voice drifts out into
the night. On rainy afternoons, in
the quiet solitude of the old Cathedral,
many say they have seen Pere Dagobert
kneeling in fervent prayer on the
altar steps.
And most agree that Pere Dagobert
never haunts alone. Whenever he appears,
it is said, the shadowy figures of
six long dead men can just barely
be discerned, keeping to the shadows
but never completely out of sight.
These are the ghosts of the dead men
on whose behalf Pere Dagobert performed
a miracle that long ago night: It
is said they will never leave the
church unguarded nor the spirit of
their great patron unattended so long
as St. Louis Cathedral endures.
The Haunted Bell Tower
The imposing central tower of St.
Louis Cathedral was designed by Englishman
Benjamin Henry Latrobe and he received
a commission from the Diocese to begin
building the tower in 1819, during
the vicarage of Pere Antoine.
Benjamin Henry Latrobe was born in
1764 at Fulneck in Yorkshire. He was
the Second son of the Reverend Benjamin
Latrobe (1728 - 86), a minister of
the Moravian church, and Anna Margaretta
(Antes) Latrobe (1728 - 94), a third
generation Pennsylvanian of Moravian
Parentage.
The original Latrobes had been French
Huguenots who had settled in Ireland
at the end of the 17th Century. Whilst
he is most noted for his work on The
White House and the Capitol in Washington,
he introduced the Greek Revival as
the style of American National architecture.
He built Baltimore cathedral, not
only the first Roman Catholic Cathedral
in America but also the first vaulted
church and is, perhaps, Latrobes finest
monument.
Hammerwood Park achieves importance
as his first complete work, the first
of only two in this country and one
of only five remaining domestic buildings
by Latrobe in existence. It was built
as a temple to Apollo, dedicated as
a hunting lodge to celebrate the arts
and incorporating elements related
to Demeter, mother Earth, in relation
to the contemporary agricultural revolution.
Latrobe was a master exponent of
symbolism. Hammerwood's composition
displays all of Latrobe's latent genius
which he took to the States, designing
both the house and the park as an
essay in perspective as well as the
picturesque. In this, Latrobe's work
at Hammerwood achieves perfection.
During the construction of the tower,
the City Council commissioned a New
Orleans clockmaker named Jean Delachaux
to obtain a suitable clock to be placed
in the façade of the new tower.
On behalf of the City of New Orleans,
Delachaux traveled to Paris, France
where he purchased a beautiful bronze
bell from a French foundry that had
supplied the bells of famous Notre
Dame.
Delachaux returned to New Orleans
from Paris bearing with him the bell
and a Swiss clock, and all was made
ready to place the works into the
bell tower. Latrobe wrote in his journal
of the incident:
"When the new bell was ready
to be put into the tower, I wrote
him (Pere Antoine) a letter in Latin
to apprise him of the circumstance,
in order that, if the rites of the
Church required any notice of it,
he might avail himself of the occasion
and do what he thought necessary.
He thanked me, and I had the bell
brought within the Church. After High
Mass, he arranged a procession to
the bell and regularly baptized her
by the name of Victoire, the name
embossed upon her by the founder."
It was to be Latrobe’s last
project; he died in New Orleans of
yellow fever on September 3, 1820,
before the final completion of the
bell tower and his was one of the
first funerals for which beautiful
“Victoire” was to toll
a mournful dirge.
Almost immediately following Latrobe’s
death there were reports of ghostly
sounds and sightings in the bell tower.
Workers putting the finishing touches
on the construction of the project
so close to Latrobe’s heart
would only work in the tower in pairs,
refusing to be alone there for any
length of time. Many reported that
even on still, windless days, the
bell resonated faintly and sadly,
as if still mourning the passing of
the man who had so little time to
enjoy her music. The movement of objects
– paint buckets moving from
one place to another, ladders being
moved when no one was looking –
and strange sounds, frightened other
workers.
Even the clockmaker, Delachaux, whose
job it was to set the workings and
the chimes of the Cathedral clock,
reported what he described as a “strange
atmosphere” in the bell tower
following the death of Latrobe. He
had no doubt that the ghost of the
dead designer was responsible for
the activity in the tower.
Though Delchaux himself was to die
peacefully many years later, many
have reported seeing the ghostly figure
of a man clad in early 19th century
clothing, who appears at random hours,
and always when the clock is chiming.
He has been seen standing directly
in the nave of the Cathedral, holding
a pocket watch in his hand as if checking
that it is keeping time with the bell
tower clock. As the chimes subside,
the ghost puts his watch away and
simply vanishes into thin air.
The Organ Loft and
the Weeping Ghost
The Cathedral’s organ was imported
and installed in 1829, the year of
Pere Dagobert’s death. Its workings
are Italian and at the time it ranked
among the finest examples of church
organs in America, if not the world.
Ghost photo of a
ghost in the Organ Loft in front of
the newly-restored Holtkamp Organ
in St. Louis Cathedral. Ghost photo
sent to us by Gail Mason.
Though there have been many reports
of various apparitions sighted in
the Cathedral over the years, one
of the most compelling and disturbing
is the spectre haunting the organ
loft.
Several witnesses report seeing the
figure of a woman, dressed in a dark,
flowing dress of the beautiful Empire
style of the mid-1800’s, who
stares down balefully from the organ
loft. At times the figure is said
to appear angry, or frustrated, as
if she wants to communicate; at other
times, she is said to be “holding
back tears.” Sometimes there
is no apparition and only the sound
of soft weeping can be heard, echoing
mournfully in the Cathedral vaults.
New Orleans legend has it that the
weeping woman is the ghost of one
of Pere Antoine’s dearest parishioners,
one whom he had baptized and tutored
in Catholic teachings, and who, later
in life and against his better judgment,
he had joined in matrimony to a man
of the Jewish faith. This legend maintains
that the weeping woman is none other
than Aimee Brusle Gottschalk.
Aimee Brusle was the daughter of
a prominent New Orleanian, Camille
Brusle, who had come to this city
after escaping with his life from
the Haiti slave uprisings of the 1790’s,
and after distinguishing himself in
the service of the English King George
III in Jamaica. There he had wedded
another French refugee from Haiti,
Josephine Alix Deynaud, and the couple
settled in New Orleans about the time
of the Louisiana Purchase.
Brusle immediately opened a bakery,
for many years the only one on the
river side of the French Quarter,
supplying rich and poor alike with
their share of daily bread. In time
the Brusle family rose to local prominence
and Camille was able to provide his
family such luxuries as seats in the
Theatre d’Orleans during the
opera seasons. Pere Antoine respected
the baker of Rue Chartres as a man
of sobriety and honesty, and took
a special interest in each of Brusle’s
children.
Aimee, the most aspiring of the baker’s
children and the special favorite
of Pere Antoine, was born in 1808.
She was described as extremely beautiful
and highly serious, although sometimes
her desire for position and success
blinded her to reality. Pere Antoine
had prepared young Aimee for life
as a Catholic at baptism, then at
confirmation; he had been a frequent
guest in the Brusle household; he
had heard the secrets of her heart
in the confessional. He was the molder
of her faith.
To say that he was blindsided by
Aimee’s ultimate choice of a
husband might be an understatement,
and whether or not he voiced his concerns
openly to Aimee or her parents is
not recorded. Edward Gottschalk was
a Northerner – born in London
in 1795, one of several sons of Rabbi
Lazarus and Jane Harris Gottschalk
– and was thirteen years older
than the friar’s beloved Aimee.
Pere Antoine, and everyone else in
New Orleans, took Gottschalk to be
an Israelite; originally from Eisenstadt,
Hungary, the Gottschalk family name
suggested Jewish origin.
Yet Gottschalk had established himself
as a successful businessman since
arriving in New Orleans with three
of his brothers in the early 1800’s.
He and two of his brothers were well-known
merchants; the third brother, Joseph,
was a popular French Quarter physician.
At the very least, Gottschalk had
the aged friar’s respect.
Where in the St. Louis Cathedral
Pere Antoine pronounced Edward Gottschalk
and Aimee Brusle man and wife has
not been determined. There appears
to be no record that the groom was
ever received into the Catholic faith,
although all of his children and their
descendants were raised strict Catholics.
It is likely that the ceremony was
held in the sacristy, and this would
have been the first of many blows
to Aimee Brusle’s pride.
Within a year, Pere Antoine was dead
and Aimee Brusle was the young mother
of a new son, named Louis Moreau Gottschalk
in honor of Aimee’s French godfather.
Other sons and daughters were to follow
as the Gottschalk family thrived according
to the fortunes of the times and struggled
to survive the numerous yellow fever
outbreaks of the mid-1800’s.
Aimee herself was confronted with
not only marriage and motherhood,
but almost instantly with the fact
that she would have to share her husband
with a quadroon mistress whom Edward
Gottschalk maintained in a house just
blocks from his family home.
There is no doubt that disillusionment
plagued the once beautiful Belle of
New Orleans. All her life she had
demonstrated a love and talent for
music; Aimee is probably the source
of Louis Moreau Gottschalk’s
prodigious talent. She certainly encouraged
it. In her youth, she had passed hours
at the grand piano of the Theatre
d’Orleans, singing to her own
piano accompaniment pieces from the
great operas and popular songs of
the times.
Perhaps it was respect for Pere Antoine,
perhaps it was pity for the sadly
disillusioned young woman. No one
knows. But soon after the organ was
installed, Aimee, who would come daily
to St. Louis Cathedral to receive
the sacrament and to pray, was allowed
to mount the stairs to the organ loft
and find solace at the keyboard of
the great pipe organ. Though she was
never a master of it, and never played
publicly, it is said Aimee would spend
hours in the organ loft, until, when
the shades of evening were long over
the Place d’Arms, Sally, little
Moreau’s faithful servant would
come to the Cathedral to collect her
mistress.
Aimee’s sadness became overwhelming
when Louis Moreau, still only eight
years old, was sent away to Paris
by his father and his instructors
to study under the tutelage of several
of the great pianists of Europe. This,
coupled with the loss of a child,
the infant Therese, to yellow fever,
plunged Aimee into despondency. She
became a fixture in St. Louis Cathedral
for many lonely years, while her husband
and children were occupied elsewhere.
It is little wonder that this woman,
who knew such little genuine happiness
in a life that had been so full of
promise, would retreat to the solace
of her church. Many believe that Aimee
is still haunting St. Louis Cathedral,
the one place in the old city of New
Orleans that provided some kind of
sanctuary to her tormented soul.
The Ghost of Madame
LaLaurie
If Aimee Brusle Gottschalk is haunting
the organ loft of St. Louis Cathedral,
she is not the lone female haunting
the grand old church.
One of the most infamous women in
the history of New Orleans is said
to be keeping Aimee company.
Delphine Macarty LaLaurie, the daughter
of an aristocratic Irish officer in
the French service, was a contemporary
of Aimee Brusle Gottschalk. In 1832,
Delphine and her third husband, Dr.
Louis LaLaurie, built the house that
stands at 1140 Royal Street on land
purchased from Edmond Soniat duFossat.
The three storey mansion had a plain,
“Northern” façade;
but he interior was exquisite and
soon became the site of many aristocratic
parties and social events.
Delphine LaLaurie was the ultimate
“Doyenne” of New Orleans
society. She had wealth, she had pedigree,
she had social standing, and she was
regarded as one of the elite of New
Orleans society.
As with anyone in her position, Delphine
soon became the target of jealous
and envious gossip. Many Creole ladies
who envied Delphine her happy and
prosperous life missed no opportunity
to slander the LaLauries, and in particular
Delphine, in any way possible.
Stories began to circulate that Madame
LaLaurie, although by all appearances
a scion of the finest tree, was truly
a willful and savage woman, and that
she exacted her horrible temper against
the most helpless in her service,
her slaves.
In 1833 a neighbor swore to allegedly
seeing Madame LaLaurie chase a house
slave girl with a leather whip, forcing
her onto an upper balcony of the Royal
Street home and ultimately to her
death. Rumors circulated that Madame
LaLaurie kept her cook chained to
the fireplace in the kitchen, that
many of the house slaves and stable
boys disappeared without explanations,
and that other horrible things were
going on behind the beautiful façade
of the fancy home.
The negative rumors and half-truths
came to fruition on an April day in
1834 when the house caught fire (a
fire allegedly started by the cook,
although, remember she was chained
to the stove) and the fire brigade
was called. A huge crowd formed outside
the mansion, including journalists
from the local New Orleans dailies.
Many in the crowd later swore to
have witnessed first hand the horrific
conditions of some of the slaves that
were discovered in the smoldering
ruins of the once-beautiful home.
There were fantastic and almost unbelievable
reports of all kinds of atrocities
and mutilations – noses and
ears cut off, tongues and eyes gouged
out, sadist beatings and surgeries
– and each of these was attributed
to none other than Madame LaLaurie.
Whether or not the tales were true
or were the product of the first campaign
of yellow journalism in American newspaper
history, the social standing of Dr.
and Madame LaLaurie lay in ruins.
They were forced to flee from the
scene of the fire, barely escaping
with their lives. It is known that
they made their way to the shores
of Bayou St. John, taking refuge in
what is now the Pitot House. It is
said that they then took a barge across
Lake Pontchartrain where they stayed
for a time with the Coqueville family
in Mandeville, the little resort town
founded by Bernard de Marigny several
years before. Ultimately, the LaLauries
escaped to Paris where they lived
out their lives. On her death, Madame
LaLaurie’s remains were returned
to New Orleans and were interred by
her descendants not far from those
of another famous woman – Voodoo
Queen Marie Laveau – in St.
Louis No. 1 Cemetery.
In her lifetime Delphine LaLaurie
worshipped at St. Louis Cathedral
like other good parishioners of New
Orleans. Whether or not Madame LaLaurie
actually fled to Europe, as most believe,
or whether she remained in the area
and founded a Satanic cult in the
deep forests of the Lake Pontchartrain
north shore, as others maintain, one
thing is certain: Her ghost has been
seen again and again among the darkened
pews of St. Louis Cathedral.
Several people have reported seeing
Madame LaLaurie, whom they recognize
from the famous portrait of her circulated
widely in tour books and on the Internet,
pale and ghostly, kneeling and praying,
face-upturned, in a third row pew
before the great altar of the old
church. Others have reported seeing
her apparition pacing sadly near one
of the old confessionals, waiting,
it is said, for a priest who is willing
to absolve her of her horrible sins.
http://www.nola.com/lalaurie/trail/trail.html
Madame
Delphine LaLaurie
A TALE OF TWO TALES: THE TRUTH ABOUT
MADAME LA LAURIE?
http://www.hauntedneworleanstours.com/hauntedhouses/lalauriehouse/
Madame
Delphine LaLaurie and the Crucible
of Horror. A Very Haunted House on
Royal Street
The Real Ghost of
Marie Laveau
Most people don’t readily associate
the infamous Voodoo Queen of New Orleans
with one of the great bastions of
the Catholic faith, St. Louis Cathedral.
But the truth is, in her lifetime,
Marie Laveau was one of the most devout
Catholics this old city ever knew.
Although many visitors crowd into
St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 hoping to
glimpse the ghost of the Voodoo Queen
at her shrine-like gravesite and others
hope to meet her in one of the many
French Quarter locations associated
with her in life, few know that one
of the best places to encounter Marie’s
spirit is St. Louis Cathedral.
It is widely agreed that Marie Laveau
was born in 1794 in New Orleans. Her
father, Charles Laveau, is said to
have been a wealthy white planter
and her mother, Darcantel Marguerite,
a beautiful free woman of color. Marie
married Jacques Paris, a free man
of color, on August 4, 1819. Because
the ceremony was performed in St.
Louis Cathedral, her contract of marriage
can still be found in the files there.
At the time of her marriage, there
is no evidence that either she or
Jacques were practicing Voodoo. Marie
and Jacques had both been raised in
the Roman Catholic faith and she still
practiced it devoutly, attending daily
worship at St. Louis Cathedral.
Only a short while after the wedding,
Jacques disappeared, probably lost
at Sea, and Marie began calling herself
the Widow Paris, entering a common
law marriage with Charles Glapion
and embarking on her infamous career
as the Witch Queen of New Orleans.
Among the legends of haunted St.
Louis Cathedral none is perhaps more
intriguing than the sightings of the
Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau, a beautiful
mulatto woman in the prime of her
life, clad in white, her head wrapped
in the bright quadroon turban of the
times, kneeling and praying quietly
at the Cathedral’s high altar.
She is reportedly seen in the early
morning hours, just after the church
has opened for the day, although other
reports have her appearing at sundown:
it is possible that Marie is keeping
the old Catholic tradition of offering
both morning and evening devotions.
One local woman, who wishes to remain
anonymous, said that she observed
the ghost of Marie Laveau praying
in the first row to the left of the
altar. She watched as the ghost made
the sign of the cross, rose to her
feet, and disappeared into the shadows
of the vestibule – lost from
sight in a flare of sunlight as the
main door opened. The woman immediately
went to the pew where, she said, she
felt a chill where the ghost had been.
To her astonishment and never-ending
pleasure, the woman discovered a worn
