Tales from the Tumulus

Elks Lodge No. 30 tumulus, Greenwood Cemetery. Photo by Emily Ford.

​To call any cemetery landscape “eclectic” is usually an understatement.  Within cemetery landscapes are the architectural whims of uncountable individuals, families, and craftsmen.  And so it goes that in New Orleans cemeteries we pass a Gothic chapel and find a Celtic cross.  Our landscapes are amalgams of recollection – Classical Greek, Roman, and Egyptian are at home with the Italianate, the Moorish Revival, and the Art Nouveau.

This rich tradition has inspired architects to look backward for inspiration, but there is no farther backward one can reach than the tumulus.  Known also as a barrow, the tumulus is a burial structure that rises from the ground as a hill or mound.  Often, the tumulus bears a means of access from the side or top of the hill.  Its origins span across the ancient world, both Old and New, representing a common type of burial shared between the ancient Norse, Etruscans, Chinese, Native Americans, and many, many more.[1]

This type of burial also has its home in New Orleans cemeteries.  The Elks Lodge tumulus in Greenwood Cemetery, and the Armies of Tennessee and Northern Virginia in Metairie Cemetery are often used as examples for the tumulus in modern cemeteries.  Yet they are not alone in their unique appearance.  The tumulus once graced many more New Orleans cemetery landscapes than it does today.  In this blog post, we explore the origins, proliferation, and eventual disappearance of the tumulus in New Orleans cemeteries.

Mounds, Barrows, and Antiquarians
In Europe, mound, barrow, or tumulus burial was practiced by pre-Roman and Roman cultures.  Tumuli can be found in nearly every European country – today as protected archaeological sites and heritage attractions.[2]  The practice of mound burial was abandoned after the rise of Christianity and the development of churchyards in Europe.  Until the cemetery landscape was reinvented by the rural cemetery movement in the early 19th century, the tumulus was a thing of ancient history.

Tumulus of Dissignac, Saint-Nazaire, France. Between 4,500 and 4,700 years old. From Wikimeda Commons user Dmitri Lytov)

A number of factors contributed to the reintroduction of the tumulus to cemetery landscapes in Europe and the New World.  With the establishment of cemeteries like Pere Lachaise in Paris, the understanding of cemetery landscapes shifted into one of green space and architectural eclecticism.  From this cultural development sprang the Greek Revival architecture that proliferated New Orleans thanks in part to J.N.B. de Pouilly.  But the gaze of nineteenth century Europeans and Americans did not exclusively look back to Greece.  It turned to Egypt and the Middle East.  It incorporated Gothic spires into new designs.  And it looked even farther back to the mysterious mounds found in the European countryside.
 
By the 1870s, the antiquaries of Europe excavated numerous tumuli in England, Italy, France, and Norway.  Such discoveries were commonly featured in New Orleans newspapers.[3]  An awareness of the burial mounds of great ancient cultures joined Greek temples and Gothic cathedrals in the consciousness of New Orleaneans.  Furthermore, the people of the American South were familiar with mound burial in their own backyards.
 
The presence of seemingly abandoned mounds in the southern and mid-western United States had captured the interest of Europeans since Hernando de Soto reported their existence in 1541.  After colonization and into the nineteenth century, some of these mounds in Louisiana were repurposed by Americans for use as their own cemeteries.  This was the case in Monroe’s Filhiol-Watkins Cemetery.  Fleming Plantation Cemetery is also located on a Native American mound.

By the mid-nineteenth century, mound burial was firmly rooted in the imagination of New Orleaneans.  From these inspirations, the tumulus made its debut in cemetery landscapes.

Fleming Cemetery, along Bayou Barataria in Lafitte, Louisiana, 1972. Photo via Wikimedia Commons.

The Tumulus in New Orleans
Like the city itself, New Orleans cemeteries are the product of many layers of community and identity.  Each cemetery is a reflection of the people who made it their own.  Cemeteries that were built and utilized by Irish, German, or American New Orleaneans developed with a different aesthetic than those shaped by French speakers.  Each community drew upon their own culture and style to create their cemetery.
 
The tumulus entered the popular consciousness in part via a new interest in archaeology and ancient architecture.[4]  Though tumuli in New Orleans often had Greek Revival motifs, they were utilized by Americans elsewhere in the United States.  Great northern cemeteries like Mount Auburn featured tumuli as part of their cultivated agrarian landscapes, as did closer cemeteries in Charleston and Savannah.[5]  Thus, it is no surprise that tumuli in New Orleans appeared first in American and not Francophone cemeteries – decades before the Elks, the Army of Tennessee, or the Army of Northern Virginia.
Tumuli are found primarily in the Canal Street cemeteries, including Cypress Grove, Masonic, Odd Fellows Rest, and Greenwood.  They are also found in American-oriented cemeteries like Lafayette Cemeteries No. 1 and 2.  There are dozens of tumuli to be found in our cemeteries, yet the untrained eye will not find one. 
 
Hidden Tumuli, or How the Lawnmower Changed Everything
Most tumuli in New Orleans cemeteries no longer look like tumuli.  Stripped of their grassy hill features, they appear instead simply as unusual tombs with rounded bodies.  The Hornor and Holdsworth tumuli in Cypress Grove and Masonic Cemeteries (respectively) are good examples.  Both constructed with a marble primary façade featuring relief carvings of cut flowers, they were likely carved by the same craftsperson, although neither structure is signed.

Above: The Hornor tumulus in Cypress Grove, constructed c. 1855. Below: The Schilling-Holdsworth-Brennan former tumulus, Masonic Cemetery No. 1, c. 1860s. Photos by Emily Ford.

Both tumuli have conspicuously rounded structures that seem to contrast with the grandiose style of their primary face.  Yet when imagined as they originally appeared, as green hills from which their marble faces projected, their aesthetic comes together.
 
There are many former tumuli in New Orleans cemeteries that have been stripped of their signature mounds.  The John P. Richardson tomb, located in Lafayette Cemetery No. 1, was described in 1885 as “enclosed in a tall oval mound of turf, with marble doors set in a stone frame.”[6]  The tumulus memorialized Richardson’s young daughters – Ella and Marguerite Callaway or “Calla,” ages six months and four years old.
 
This original appearance could certainly not be deduced from examining the Richardson tomb today:  its sweeping marble doors and arched primary face are attached to what appears to simply be a brick-and-mortar tomb.

John P. Richardson tomb, Lafayette Cemetery No. 1. Photo by Emily Ford.

Dozens of former tumuli can be found in New Orleans cemeteries; most are identified by the slightly unusual appearance of the tomb body when compared to its front.  Nineteenth century tumuli were designed to appear monumental in both mass and detail, with their entrances featuring sweeping side elements or rounded tops.  The massive hill that comprised the tumulus body framed these features.  Other examples of former tumuli include:

Mount Moriah Lodge, Masonic Cemetery, c. 1861.

Corinthian Lodge Benevolent Association, Metairie Cemetery, c. 1875.

Howard Association, Odd Fellows Rest, c. 1850s.

McIntosh tumulus, Cypress Grove Cemetery. In November 1873, the Nixon (now McIntosh) tomb was described as: "in the form of a mound overgrown with grass, with a large marble front. Along the top of the slab creeps an ivy, which will eventually cover the whole mound. The frontispiece was garnished on each side by a vase of white flowers." (New Orleans Republican)

Cypress Grove Cemetery.

Metairie Cemetery.

Fitzpatrick tumulus, Greenwood Cemetery, c. 1940. The Fitzpatrick tumulus is undergoing the soil and sod loss that many tumuli have experienced.

Meunier tumulus, Greenwood Cemetery, 19th century.

The disappearance of historic tumuli can be explained in the same way many other landscape features have been altered.  As cemetery design, economics, and management changed, the tumulus was viewed as far too costly to maintain.  Before the 1920s, cemeteries featured cultivated grounds with aisles paved in crushed shells – and they were manicured using manual, spiral-bladed lawn-cutters. 
 
Between 1920 and 1945, new lawnmowing equipment was patented with small gas-powered motors, cutting down on the labor required for landscape maintenance.  This innovation was later supplemented by the availability of ready-mix concrete with which to pave once shell-strewn aisles.  Finally, in the 1940s, industrialization of the monument and funerary industries led to most cemeteries eliminating the position of sexton (caretaker) from their ranks.  

Frustration with the manual spiral-blade lawnmower led to motorized alternatives. Illustration from the Bogalusa Enterprise and American, July 27, 1922, via Library of Congress.

All tombs require maintenance, and tumuli were no different.  Powered lawnmowers had difficulty rolling over their great mounds to cut the grass.  Applying herbicide to these structures simply would have killed roots that held the sod atop the structure, causing it to erode.  It appears that each tumulus underwent the same series of unfortunate events:  difficulty of maintenance, dissolution of family or organizational ties to the structure, and the easy availability of ready-mix cement led to the erosion of the hill feature and the eventual removal of the tumulus altogether. 
 
The Pond tomb in Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 is an example of this process.  The structure lost its hill feature, which was replaced instead with crude cement covering, leading tour guides to refer to the tomb as “an igloo.”

Famous Tumuli
The tumulus has lost its ubiquity in New Orleans cemeteries, but not its place in among the great structures our cemeteries are known for.  Three tumuli remain as iconic examples of the burial type – two in Metairie Cemetery, and one in Greenwood.

​The tumuli of the Army of Northern Virginia and the Army of Tennessee in Metairie were constructed in 1881 and 1893, respectively.  

Each tumulus memorializes the fallen Confederate soldiers and deceased veterans associated with each division.  After the Civil War, veterans of both Confederate and Union armies formed such benevolent associations for the support of their members.  In the case of the Armies of Northern Virginia and Tennessee, perhaps the tumulus design was a nod to the military and fraternal connotations many ancient tumuli bear.

Each tumulus features a remarkable sculpture at its hillside apex.  The Army of Northern Virginia tumulus supports a 38-foot column atop which a sculpture of General Thomas Jonathan “Stonewall” Jackson stands.  The Army of Tennessee features an equestrian bronze, sculpted by Alexander Doyle, depicting General Albert Sidney Johnston atop his horse, Fire Eater.  Both tumuli are notable features of Metairie Cemetery, included in most histories of the cemetery.[7]

Army of Tennessee tumulus, Metairie Cemetery, in 1910. Image via Library of Congress.

Army of Northern Virginia tumulus, Metairie Cemetery. Photo by Wikimedia Commons user Infrogmation.

The third notable tumulus in New Orleans is viewed daily by many city commuters.  The tomb of the Benevolent Protective Order of Elks, Lodge 30, features a bronze elk standing atop its grassy summit.  The tumulus is located in Greenwood Cemetery at the intersection of Canal Street and City Park Avenue, where the elk looks out above the traffic.
 
The Elks lodge tumulus was first conceived of in 1911 by the local Elks, who held a great circus in downtown New Orleans to raise funds for the cause.  In subsequent years, the Elks would commission monument man Albert Weiblen to construct the tomb at the cost of $10,000 (approximately $250,000 in 2016 currency).  The structure was assembled of Alabama granite, shaped with a classical pediment, the center of which features a clock forever frozen at the eleventh hour, a reference to the “Eleventh Hour Toast” held by Elks when gathered together.

Elks Lodge tumulus, Greenwood Cemetery, c. 1913. Photo by Emily Ford.

Local legend has suggested that Albert Weiblen warned the Elks that the lot on which they wished the tumulus be constructed was not suitable for a structure of that size.  It is true that, historically, City Park Avenue was once part of a navigation canal, an infill had only partially stabilized the soft earth. The story goes that the Elks decried Weiblen’s warning and enjoined he move ahead with construction.  While primary sources for this story are nonexistent, the Elks Lodge tumulus does have a noticeable tilt toward Canal Street.
 
Lessons in Preservation
While the tumulus holds its place of honor in cemetery landscapes with the Elks and the Armies of Tennessee and Northern Virginia, it has faded from the everyday view of most cemeteries.  Such a loss is difficult to quantify.  Historic New Orleans cemeteries are dynamic places where features are constantly altered, modified, destroyed, or restored.  Yet as we approach the task of preserving these cemeteries as functional landscapes, the tumulus offer some distinct lessons.  

Stripped-down tumuli confuse the historic appearance of cemeteries like Cypress Grove and Lafayette Cemetery No. 1.  Had these structures been preserved, their green mounds would carry on the tradition of the cemetery as garden space; and they would properly communicate the historic landscape for both grieving family and heritage tourist alike. 
 
Stripped-down tumuli are an example of one cardinal rule of cemetery preservation:  that once improper treatment has taken place, it’s nearly impossible to reverse.  Each blow to responsible and considerate preservation is most likely permanent.  Thus, while restoration is important, maintenance, documentation, and planned preservation are much more crucial.  When the cemetery landscape is understood and preserved, large-scale restorations are less necessary.
 
Finally, stripped-down tumuli teach us to deeply consider each structure as part of a whole, to read the structure for what isn’t there as much as for what is.  Through this consideration, cemetery stewards can preserve these resources of history and heritage in a responsible manner that benefits generations to come.

​[1] Dan Hicks, et. al. Envisioning Landscape:  Situations and Standpoints in Archaeology and Heritage (Routledge, 2016), 167.
[2] James C. Southall, The Recent Origin of Man (Philadelphia:  J.B. Lippincott & Co., 1875), 87-97.
​[3] “Jackson Mounds,” Daily Crescent, January 16, 1851; “Norwegian tumulus,” New Orleans Bulletin, April 8, 1874, 2; “Norwegian Tumulus,” Opelousas Journal, August 4, 1876, 1.
[4] George F. Beyer, “The Mounds of Louisiana,” in Publications of the Louisiana Historical Society (New Orleans:  1895), 12-30. (Link)
[5] Gibbes tumulus, Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, SC, and HABS documentation (Library of Congress).
​[6] “All Saints Day,” Daily Picayune, November 2, 1885, p. 2.
​[7] Henri Gandolfo, Metairie Cemetery, An Historical Memoir:  Tales of its statesmen, soldiers, and great families (New Orleans:  Stewart Enterprises, 1981).