Mad Madame LaLaurie

by Victoria Cosner Love

  Blanque and Company was used by Laussat as a commercial house for financial transactions for the French government. In Laussat’s personal papers, at least six transactions are noted, with a 10 percent fee paid per transaction—quite a handy business to have waiting for you in a new country.

  As New Orleans grew, so did Jean Blanque’s role in a variety of offices and organizations. Officers to a new Masonic lodge were elected in June 1812. The officers were installed on July 11, 1812. At that time, the “Grand Convention of Ancient York Rite Masons met in Perfect Union Lodge Room and elected the following Officers…and Jean Blanque, Worshipful Master of Charity Lodge,” according to the lodge history in Gayerré’s book.

  Gayerré’s History of Louisiana made reference to Blanque’s considerable influence:

  One of Blanque’s political adversaries, Colonel Declouet certainly found himself in a very critical situation. According to Duncan’s and Davezac’s testimony, which is given at length in the report of the Committee of Investigation, he had accused the Legislature of treason; he had accused Guichard, the Speaker of the House, Blanque, Marigny and others who always voted with Blanque, a very influential member of the House, of being at the head of the movement. He had asserted that Guichard had attempted to obtain his co-operation by telling him that General Jackson made war after the Russian fashion, which was to destroy everything rather than give up the possession of the country to the British, whilst the enemy would respect property. Major Tully Robinson and Major Tessier also swore that Declouet had mentioned to them, Blanque, Guichard and Marigny as using their influence in the Legislature to dispose that body to a capitulation, in order to prevent the destruction of property, “which should not be sacrificed to military pride.”

  By the majority, he explained that he meant such members as always voted with Blanque, and composed the French side of the House, with the exception of Rouffignac and Louaillier, who sometimes dissented. He believed that the men he named had sufficient influence to control and lead the Legislature as they wished. Such was, in substance, Davezac’s testimony.

  On December 15, 1812, Blanque introduced into the House of Representatives this short, spirited address to the citizens of the state of The Louisiana. Blanque’s motive was to engage the populace in the protection of their newly adopted United States of America, as the British were planning an invasion of New Orleans. To that date, the primarily French Creole population had not stepped up to defend the city, shunning the American army. Blanque’s words, again in Gayerré’s work, moved them to action:

  The Macarty plantation, headquarters to General Andrew Jackson during the War of 1812. This plantation was owned by Delphine’s wealthy, unmarried aunt, Jeanne. It is no longer standing, despite its national significance.

  Your country is in danger; the enemy is at your doors; the frontiers of the State are invaded. Your country expects of you the greatest efforts to repulse the bold enemy who threatens to penetrate, in a few days, to the very hearthstones of your homes; the safety of your persons, that of your property, of your wives and children, yet depends on you. Rush to arms, fellow-citizens, enlist promptly under the banner of General Jackson, of that brave chief who is to command you; give him all your confidence; the successes he has already obtained assure you that to march under his standards is to march to victory. There is no longer any alternative; dear fellow-citizens, we must defend ourselves; we must conquer, or we must be trampled under the feet of a cruel and implacable enemy, whose known excesses will be as nothing when compared with those which he will perpetrate in our unfortunate country. To arms! Let us precipitate ourselves upon the enemy; let us save from his cruelty, from his barbarous outrages all that is dear to us, all that can bind us to life. Your Representatives have supplied the Executive with all the pecuniary means which he required of them for the defence [sic] of the State, and they will give you the example of the devotion which they expect of you.

  Jean Blanque died or disappeared in 1818, leaving Delphine with four children to raise. He also left his wife with plenty of money to live in style. Unfortunately, there is no documentation of his precise date of death. It is not known if he died without a will, but the parish court index cites about a dozen matters of his estate dealt with by Delphine after Jean Blanque’s death. This lack of verification or notice in the papers is especially frustrating; there is no reason that his death would not have been documented—unless, perhaps, he was on the run from the law, had fled New Orleans or simply vanished to escape the shadier aspects of his past.

  In July 1819, the records of the parish court show Marie Delphine Macarty, widow of the late John Blanque, presenting an emancipation petition to the court noting that she “intends to emancipate” her male slave named Jean Louis, “of upwards of fifty years of age.” She declares that Jean Louis has always “led an honest conduct,” has not run away and has not committed any crime. Marie Delphine Macarty Blanque asked the court to order that the “notices prescribed by law” be published in the “usual place and form” in order to enable her to emancipate her slave. This is an interesting action for a woman who later appears to revel in the suffering of her slaves.

  Delphine Blanque seems to have thrived in her marriage to the rich, influential and handsome Jean Blanque. The Blanques’ Royal Street residence, a grand mansion with twenty-four-foot ceilings, and their hideaway outside the city were alive with balls and outings during their union. The Macarty women were still in their heyday, and Delphine’s position in New Orleans was that of a rising star.

  There is no record of what Delphine thought about Jean Blanque’s alleged pirating and smuggling activities, but she and her children blossomed while she was with him and, thanks to his fortune, did quite well after his unexpected demise/disappearance.

  Was it exciting for Delphine to be married to such a volatile man? Did she relish the stories of his exploits or ignore them? She was married to Jean Blanque for many years, and they were parted only by death or his abrupt departure. Whether theirs was a true love story, and whether Delphine enjoyed being the wife of an outlaw or just enjoyed the financial benefits it brought, remains a mystery.

  Bird’s-eye view of New Orleans, Louisiana, with the Mississippi River in the foreground, circa 1851. Printed by J. Bachman (Bachmann), Library of Congress Panoramic Maps (2nd ed.), 240.1.

  Chapter 4

  Louis Lalaurie and the “Catastrophe of 1834”

  XXXVIII. We also forbid all our subjects in this colony, whatever their condition or rank may be, to apply, on their own private authority, the rack to their slaves, under any pretense whatever, and to mutilate said slaves in any one of their limbs, or in any part of their bodies, under the penalty of the confiscation of said slaves; and said masters, so offending, shall be liable to a criminal prosecution. We only permit masters, when they shall think that the case requires it, to put their slaves in irons, and to have them whipped with rods or ropes.

  –Louisiana Code Noir, 1724

  On January 12, 1828, Delphine married Leonard Louis Nicolas Lalaurie, MD, who had arrived from France on February 13, 1825. Louis’ birth date estimates range from 1771 to 1800, but he was supposed to have been somewhat younger than Delphine. He was born in Villeneuve-sur-Lot in Aquitaine, not far from the home of Delphine’s second husband, Jean Blanque, nor from San Sabastion, where her first husband, López, was exiled.

  Lalaurie was a mediocre medical student who eventually graduated from dental school in Toulouse. After graduation, Lalaurie prepared to immigrate to Louisiana. Dozens of letters to Louis from his father, François Jean Lalaurie, provide insight into their relationship. Often nagging, François wrote to his son every two weeks, mostly inquiring about his completion of his application to the Friends of the Bourbons (Masonic) organization. This collection, housed with the Missouri Historical Society, also contains several letters to Louis from his sisters. He seems to have had warm, affectionate relationships with Victoire, Rosalie and Helene. There is no indication in his letters t
hat Louis lacked respect for women—or that he would eventually become an abusive husband.

  Louis Lalaurie kept a detailed journal of the weather conditions on his journey across the Atlantic to New Orleans. He left on the boat Fanny on December 8, 1824, and arrived on February 13, 1825. His writing is dry. The journal shows that the doctor had an eye for scientific detail, but little personality emerges from his meticulous notes. The translation is located in the Delassus–St. Vrain Collection at the Missouri History Museum Archives in St. Louis. It is a painful read, even for the most avid of history fans. One month after his arrival, Dr. Lalaurie sought to establish a medical practice in New Orleans. An intriguing tidbit was cited in Rudulph Matas’s History of Medicine in Louisiana:

  By 1825, too, surgical developments in England and France were rapidly finding their way to Louisiana. An advertisement in the form of a letter to the editor appeared in the Courier on March 18 [Matas then quotes Lalaurie]:

  “I pray you to announce in your next number that a French Physician has just arrived in this city, who is acquainted with the means, lately discovered in France, of destroying Hunches. The individual submitting to the operations required, sees his deformity gradually diminish, and after a treatment longer or shorter, according to the extent of the deformity, the body resumes its natural forms. That discovery has met with the greatest success in France, and everything induces the belief that it will have the same result in this country.”

  Matas asserted that Dr. Lalaurie sounded “quite different from the blatant appeals of the obvious quacks.” Lalaurie’s “[p]ossession of a license from the Comte Medicale” indicated that Lalaurie had graduated from an accredited French medical school. He also pointed out that Lalaurie did not intend to restrict himself to just one area of medicine.

  As an interesting aside, the practice of medicine was almost unregulated in the early 1800s. It wasn’t unusual for doctors who studied one specialty to randomly switch to another, as Louis Lalaurie did.

  By September 1827, Delphine Macarty López Blanque and Dr. Lalaurie were acquainted enough for her to send a small handwritten note to Lalaurie requesting a personal favor (translated by Brian Love):

  Messr. Lalaurie, I ask Mr. Lalaurie to have the courtesy to seal and address these letters and send them to Mademoiselle Pauline. Having a letter without an address, Monsieur St. Avid had supposed it would be for him. The “Mandizes” leaves today. I would ask if your business permits to throw them in the bag. Pauline has been sick, I pray that you will kindly take this responsibility and excuse my indiscretion. Blanque nee Macarty.

  This is an intriguing historical tidbit. It meant enough to Dr. Lalaurie to entrust the note to his lawyer/son-in-law, Auguste Delassus. Additionally, it indicates a relationship of some sort—Lalaurie seems to know where Pauline, Delphine’s daughter, was living. But the note has an oddly formal tone considering that the couple would be married three months later, in early 1828. Their son, Jean Louis, would be born later that same year.

  Louis and Delphine bought the mansion at 1140 Rue Royal in 1832, four years into their marriage. The mansion, a beautiful two-story Creole-style building with an interior courtyard and several balconies to allow the air to circulate through the house, had been built in 1831. The Lalauries had the mansion opulently decorated and filled with gorgeous furniture and fine art. The couple threw lavish parties, which were often written up in the society pages.

  Delphine Lalaurie was one of the sparkling queens of Creole high society. Often overlooked and deemed by many to be reserved, Louis Lalaurie was overshadowed by his gorgeous wife.

  There is no documentation of Dr. Lalaurie having an established medical practice in New Orleans during this time. However, in the Delassus–St. Vrain Collection at the Missouri Historical Society (MHS) there is a variety of receipts and written requests for Dr. Lalaurie’s services. One acquaintance wrote to Lalaurie for assistance with a slave who was ailing, and Lalaurie billed him for a potion. (It’s worth noting that slaves were often test subjects for doctors’ untried potions and remedies. This practice was not uncommon or considered unethical.) Another client asked for a tooth removal. Lalaurie was obviously working from his home, which also was not unusual for the time.

  Curiously, Dr. Lalaurie is often left mostly out of the accounts of the atrocities found in his house in 1834. He is occasionally mentioned as a coperpetrator and, more often, as a background figure, paling in the shadow of his wife’s overpowering evil. However, for the sake of argument, if some of the horrors the slaves endured were, in fact, medical experiments, who would have been more likely to commit them? A society belle (no matter how cruel)…or her physician husband?

  Sordid rumors of medical experiments and zombie drugs dogged the Lalauries.

  A doctor studying physical deformities makes a likely suspect when medical experiments are discovered under his very roof. No proof that the medical experiments actually took place exists. However, Dr. Louis Lalaurie has some interesting myths circulating around him in his own right.

  New Orleans artist Ricardo Pustanio, famous for his paintings of Madame Lalaurie and the “Devil Baby” of Bourbon Street, stated in an interview with the authors that some New Orleans natives believe that Dr. Lalaurie was testing Haitian-style “zombie drugs” to try to induce cooperation and docility in troublesome slaves. He had many failures, and those poor, poisoned souls were said to have been thrown into the swamp. This bizarre theory is discussed in more detail in the tenth chapter.

  Dr. Lalaurie has also been associated with the Devil Baby. This was supposedly a deformed or insane child, rumored to be the spawn of a mortal woman and a demon; the baby was found by voodoo queen Marie Laveau and given to Delphine and Louis Lalaurie to raise. This, too, is discussed in the tenth chapter.

  No portraits survive of Louis Lalaurie. It can be assumed if any were made that they were destroyed during the 1834 fire or the riot that followed. What would such a man have looked like? A man, often described as nondescript, who somehow managed to woo and marry one of the most beautiful and richest widows in New Orleans? A man who was guilty of, or at least complicit in, the most shocking atrocities New Orleans had ever seen? It’s doubtful that his formal portrait would have revealed much of his inner nature, but we will never know.

  The Lalauries lived a life of beauty and elegance, interrupted only briefly by rumors of slave abuse in the spring of 1832. Strangely, on October 26, 1832, the Lalauries petitioned the court to free their slave, “Devince, a Creole of Louisiana of about forty or forty five years of age.” Their petition was granted in August 1833. Eight months later, the two would be revealed as torturers and, possibly, murderers of slaves.

  On November 16, 1832, a summons was issued to Louis Lalaurie, residing in Plaquemines parish. Madame Lalaurie petitioned for separation from Louis, who was not living at the Royal address at that time. She cited that “through a series of ill treatment from the said Louis Lalaurie that indeed the said Lalaurie acted toward her a long time since in such a manner as to render their living together insupportable.”

  Madame Lalaurie swore that

  on the 26th of October last, in the presence of many witnesses, the said Louis Lalaurie went so far as to not only ill treat her but was to beat and wound her in the most outrageous and [illegible] manner. Wherefore, the plaintiff prays your honor to authorize her to sue her said husband for a separation from bed and board and thence forth to grant her decreed that they be separated from bed and board to authorize her to live separately in the meanwhile from her said husband.

  Delphine asked the court to let her remain at the house at Royal and Hospital Streets. Judge Joshua Lawn signed an order allowing her to sue her husband for legal separation.

  Note the date of the alleged incident of the beating—it is the same day on which the Lalauries were recorded as petitioning the court for the freedom of their slave Devince. The significance of this coincidence is somewhat baffling. Did the couple fight over Devince? Or did that date com
e to Madame’s mind in her deposition because it was the day she had the man freed? Anyone who might have known the answer is long dead.

  There is no record of Madame Lalaurie going forward with the case against her husband. But something unpleasant must have occurred between them. Delphine must have been strongly motivated to bring a case of spousal abuse before the court. After all, such allegations did not go with her façade of domestic perfection, but it is unlikely that Delphine Lalaurie was a woman who would passively tolerate the role of abused wife.

  If Louis Lalaurie was, in fact, habitually abusing Delphine, one has to question who was the monster in this tragic and horrifying story.

  In another somewhat odd incident, Madame Lalaurie lent money to a free woman of color, Sarah Lee, in 1833. Delphine would later sue Sarah Lee, from her exile in Paris, for the recovery of the loan in 1835. The lawsuit ended in 1840, awarding Madame Lalaurie the money that she was due.

  Did the initial loan indicate that Madame Lalaurie was not averse to people of color? Quite possibly. But the abuse of the slaves in the Lalaurie house probably had little to do with their color. They were there, they were available and they were helpless against a system that considered them possessions. It was the ultimate crime of opportunity, and it would be exposed to the world in the spring of 1834.

  The house fire that began on April 10, 1834, changed the Lalauries’ world. Often in the recounting of the story, Dr. Lalaurie is said to have been missing or even dead at the time of the fire. However, the deposition given by Judge Canongo in court on April 12, 1834, was printed in the New Orleans Bee on the same day: