Kiss your father for me. Give my greetings to your aunt. I reunite you all in my heart to love you and kiss you for me, Pauline and Louis [child].
Delphine’s son Paulin wrote to his brother-in-law, Auguste Delassus, that his mother seemed to be using the dire straits of her finances in Louisiana as a catalyst to return to New Orleans. Her children were appalled to even contemplate such an action. But as always, Delphine would do as she pleased.
Chapter 6
Delphine Lalaurie’s Last Years
In [January 28,] 1941 a one-time sexton of St. Louis cemeteries said he had discovered a copper plate relating in French that Delphine MacCarthy Lalauire [sic] had died in Paris in 1842 and that her remains were in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. Descendents at that time said they had long known of this and had visited her tomb.
–Times-Picayune, August 9, 1964
There are several accounts of Delphine’s death that have been entertained by storytellers and historians. One report suggests that she was killed by a wild boar in a hunting accident in France, while another, a story that ran in the Daily Picayune in March 1892, insists that she died among friends and family in Paris. Still other accounts note that Delphine Lalaurie never left Louisiana and instead dwelled on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain for the remainder of her days. Current research indicates that all these accounts are wrong—Madame returned to Faubourg Marigny in New Orleans, probably in October 1842, and lived there until her death in the mid- to late 1850s.
Paulin, her son by Jean Blanque, wrote to Auguste Delassus several times, including a very telling letter advising Auguste and his family that Madame Lalaurie was set on returning to New Orleans despite their protestations. Following is a translation by Larry Frank of the Missouri Historical Society (Delassus–St. Vrain Collection). Note the apparent strength of Paulin’s feelings and his reference to the events of 1834:
Paris 15 August 1842
I just learned that in a letter that my mother wrote to you this morning, she announces to you her arrival at New Orleans for the end of the month of October or the beginning of November. This news undoubtedly will surprise you as it has those to whom my mother has spoken of her return to Louisiana. She has been thinking about this for a long time, but not knowing what pretext to use in order to realize a project of which the idea alone is a lack of consideration toward her family. She has been speaking about it in a vague manner but we comfort ourselves with the hope that moments of humor alone could make her nourish a thought that the sad memories of the catastrophe of 1834 must have made her envision as impossible rolling [sic] to the feet and the regards due to the family and public opinion, she wants to find a plausible pretext for the general bankruptcy which reigns in Louisiana, in order to leave Paris and realize a dream [that she has had] for more than five years. Everywhere she goes, she announces her departments and give as a reason the bad state in which her affairs are found. No, this pretext could be valuable in the eyes of those who do not know my mother, but I, who for four years, have lived with her and who have studied her, I have unfortunately seen that time hasn’t changed anything in that indomitable nature and that by her character she was again preparing many sufferings and discomforts for her children. I bemoan (as we must all bemoan) the fate that awaits us if ever my mother puts her feet in that country, or by a generally disapproved of conduct. She has caused us to shed many tears and where she would go we prepare ourselves for news [due to] her presence. I truly believe that my mother never had a true idea concerning what the cause of her departure from New Orleans was since she is thinking of returning to that country gain…See Placide when you receive the letter from mother, which announces to you her arrival there; deliberate together and don’t let the fear of displeasing her cause you to recoil from what you will have to say to her on the impossibility of her returning to New Orleans. I know that the truth is sometimes painful to speak, but when it can prevent great evils, it is a duty to divulge it and renouncing to do it is a mistake. For me, when I know that her trip has been completely decided upon, then I will fulfill my task here and if my observations result in nothing, the truth, as painful as it is for a son towards a mother from her insane project, then will tell her that Pauline and I won’t go with her, and I would also know how to make her see that her project of living with one of her married daughters is impossible because they would never consent to it. My task will be painful, but I have decided to complete it so that later there will be nothing to reproach me for.
Bills of receipt and other notes from Madame Lalaurie to her son in-law indicate that she was having a residence she owned in Faubourg Marigny, just off the Vieux Carré in New Orleans, renovated. A receipt dated 1841 shows her paying bills for a property at the corner of Rue Victoire (now Decatur) and Rue Marigny—a mere six blocks from the scene of “the catastrophe of 1834.” In the same collection at the Missouri Historical Society Archives are tax bills showing that Delphine and her brother, Barthélémy, owned seven pieces of property worth approximately $138,000, a fortune at this time. City directories confirm that Delphine and her daughters lived in adjacent houses. Unfortunately, the corner Madame lived on is now an industrial section from the turn of the twentieth century, obliterating yet another of the Macarty/Lalaurie historic properties.
Receipt for work done at Madame Lalaurie’s home in the Faubourg Marigny in 1840.
Until recently, most historians concurred that Delphine Lalaurie died in France on December 7, 1842, and that her body was secretly returned to New Orleans. This belief was based on a single discovery made in the early 1900s.
Eugene Backes, who served as sexton to St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 until 1924, discovered an old, cracked copper plate in Alley No. 1 of the old graveyard. The inscription on the plate read: “Madame Lalaurie, nee Marie Delphine Maccarthy, decedee a Paris, le’ 7 décembre, 1842, a l’age de 6—.”
The Picayne ran this article on August 9, 1964, upon the discovery of the plaque, with a picture of Sexton Backes holding the plaque:
The Times-Picayune ran an article recounting the discovery of the Lalaurie plaque.
In 1941 a one-time sexton of St. Louis cemeteries said he had discovered a copper plate relating in French that Delphine MacCarthy Lalauire [sic] had died in Paris in 1842 and that her remains were in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. Descendents at that time said they had long known of this and had visited her tomb.
As compelling as the plaque seems to be, it is a clever hoax. Was it a coincidence that the “death date” on the plaque coincided with her actual return to New Orleans? Was the plaque a cruel joke, or was it a ruse to convince the residents of New Orleans that Madame Lalaurie was dead? Regardless of the reasons for the plaque, it was no more than a sham. One credible documented story has someone by the name of N.L. Lalaurie and two of her daughters (Jeanne and Pauline) living in New Orleans until Delphine’s death in the mid-to late 1850s—years after the date on the plaque.
In 1850, when Delphine’s brother L.B. Macarty’s estate was settled, his will directed that property that he had given in his lifetime to his daughter, Maria Louise Macarty, be counted as part of her one-fourth share of the estate. It’s possible, even probable, that one-fourth is the “forced share” that children were entitled to receive from their parents’ estate no matter what the will said, according to inheritance laws at the time. By designating the previously donated property as Maria’s share and leaving her nothing of his current estate, L.B. was essentially, and cleverly, cutting his own daughter out of his will in favor of Delphine.
L.B. Macarty’s executors appraised the property left to Maria at $28,100 and took a commission from that. Delphine, Macarty’s sole heir under the will, challenged the executors in the Louisiana Supreme Court, arguing (successfully) that the property left to her was never part of the estate and thus they should not have gotten a commission on it. So not only did Delphine get her brother’s whole estate, but she also neatly cut the executors out of their commission. This shows that Madame was not onl
y alive but also had the facilities to do some fancy legal wrangling, according to the May 13, 1850 Times-Picayune.
To further support the idea of a death date much later than 1842, an advertisement appeared in 1858 in the New Orleans Times for the sale of “parcels” to settle Madame Lalaurie’s estate. However, no burial notice for Delphine Lalaurie appeared in New Orleans newspapers at that time—or at any other time. It’s possible that it took sixteen years to settle her estate, but even considering Madame Lalaurie’s financial nagging of Auguste Delassus, it seems unlikely to have taken so long. We have concluded that Delphine Lalaurie died in New Orleans between 1855 and 1858.
So where is Madame Lalaurie buried? Jean Blanque, the Blanque daughters and Madame Lalaurie all rest in unknown burial sites. Because Madame’s first child, Borquita, married into the Forstall family, it stands to reason that they are buried in the Forstall burial plot, either in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 or No. 2. (The Forstalls have large family plots in both cemeteries.)
The Historic Preservation Program (Graduate School of Fine Arts at the University of Pennsylvania) conducted an extensive survey of all of the tombs in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. Tomb no. 323 is allotted to the extended Forstall family, with interments dating from 1823 until 1850.
To further complicate the mystery of where Madame Lalaurie is buried, there is a burial record for a Delphine López in the St. Louis Cemetery No. 2 crypt of the Forstall plots. It is thought that the record refers to Borquita, but it is possible that Madame Lalaurie was buried under another name to protect her body from exhumation or desecration.
The Forstall family tomb in New Orleans St. Louis Cemetery—perhaps the final resting place of Madame Lalaurie. Photo by Victoria Cosner Love.
New Orleans St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, Alley No. 4. The location of the false burial plaque is found here. Photo by Victoria Cosner Love.
Still another theory is that she is buried in the Delassus family plots. And, of course, the Macarty tombs have to be considered, even though most of the Macartys were older or deceased by the time Madame Lalaurie died.
Finally, one needs to remember that in New Orleans bodies often stay in the burial chamber only until they decompose. They are then removed to make room for more interments. Delphine Lalaurie’s bones are, by now, quite possibly mixed with dozens of others in an anonymous crypt.
Perhaps it is best that Madame Lalaurie’s final resting place remains unknown, for the sake of her descendants and the families of those who may be buried with her.
Chapter 7
Madame Lalaurie in Popular History and Culture
After I painted the first, I became fascinated with her innocence. So I did a few more; I guess I was trying to see who was this face so evil, who had done all she was so rightfully accused of.
–Ricardo Pustanio, painter of the famous Haunted House Delphine Lalaurie portrait
As the truth is slowly uncovered, it will be interesting to look at how the story has been viewed and reported since the night of the incident. The Bee articles are available online and in this book, but there is a lot more material we have not yet revealed. By following these narratives, one can see Madame Lalaurie growing in myth and legend.
L. SOUVESTRE
As we mentioned in the fifth chapter, an article published in Le Courrier Etats-Unis on December 8, 1838 (found at Northwestern State University of Louisiana), written by L. Souvestre, tells of what seems to be an eyewitness report of the events in the Lalaurie Mansion by a Methodist minister identified as “Dr. Miller.” This article places Madame Lalaurie (known in this story as Madame de Larcy) at the estate of Henri Vrain, her in-law through Delassus, in the Paris suburbs of Saint-Cloud, France, not long after the fire. The fact that these relatives weren’t commonly known by most storytellers gives the story a boost of credence.
However, the structure and the writing style are more indicative of a short story, and no “Dr. Miller” can be identified as an actual historical character.
This article or short story seems to reinforce (or perhaps invent) some of the more popular details that turn up in New Orleans ghost tours: the “coachman who glowed with health,” the story of Madame passing her glass of wine to a slave and the emaciated, fearful slaves who initially made people wonder what was going on in the mansion.
In addition, this story gives a solid reason for a slave to start the fire, as it was her child who fell to his (or her, as more commonly told) death while being chased by Madame.
There are many differences between this story and popular legends. “Dr. Miller’s” account has a young boy, Mingo, as the child who was chased off the roof in 1833 instead of a young girl who pulled a tangle in her mistress’s hair and incurred Madame’s wrath. He also cites Madame Lalaurie as thrice a widow when these events happened. Louis Lalaurie was not dead in 1834, and multiple eyewitnesses place him at the scene of the fire, annoying his neighbors. Madame is described as young when she would have been at least fifty in 1834. Her daughters are described as children. They were, in fact, young women in 1834. Her young son by Louis Lalaurie was the only child in the house.
Whether this melodramatic piece is fiction (which the authors are inclined to believe) or an embellished version of the truth, it shows that the Lalaurie tale was not only alive and well in 1838 but also that, four years after the incident, it was already changing shape. (Read the entire L. Souvestre story at www.mad-madame-lalaurie.com.)
HARRIET MARTINEAU
The first written non-eyewitness account of the story is attributed to Harriet Martineau (1802–1876), a British author, abolitionist and philosopher. During her lifetime, she was recognized as a controversial journalist, political economist, travel writer and feminist. Her Retrospect of Western Travel in three volumes chronicles her visit to the United States in 1838–40. She traveled extensively, visiting almost every region of what was the United States at that time.
Her storytelling was brilliant. She vividly evoked many scenes of American life for her British audience. However, she often seemed to base her observations on what she was seeing at the moment; for example, she described New Hampshire as dark and desolate, but she was there during winter. She reported what was told to her by locals with no research into the actual events and as seen through the thick lenses of an abolitionist and feminist.
Interestingly enough, her account of Madame Lalaurie is seen only through the eyes of the abolitionist. No consideration of Madame Lalaurie as a woman in Creole society is given. That being said, her version of the story is quoted or repeated in almost every piece that covers the Lalaurie story.
Martineau began her account by describing the beautiful setting of the road along Lake Pontchartrain and then segued into the following: “It was along this road that Madame Lalaurie escaped from the hands of her exasperated countrymen, about five years ago.” A fine way to start a tale of gothic horror, even one that happens to be true.
One of the initial mysteries, that of why Dr. Lalaurie is minimized in folklore and is seldom mentioned as a co-perpetrator of the torture, originated in Martineau’s narrative: “Her third husband, M. Lalaurie, was I believe, a Frenchman. He was many years younger than his lady, and had nothing to do with the management of her property; so that he has been in no degree mixed up with her affairs and disgraces.”
Whether or not that was true, Ms. Martineau’s compelling account made sure that the image of Dr. Lalaurie as a passive background figure became stuck in popular folklore.
The lawyer who was allegedly concerned about the rumors of maltreatment of the Lalaurie slaves was a friend of Ms. Martineau’s. Because he was American, and thus not an insider in Creole society, he sent his young Creole student to the Lalaurie house to inform the Lalauries of the Code Noir restrictions. The clerk supposedly returned to his employer starry-eyed and utterly charmed by Madame. This part of the Lalaurie story is told in most every version, oral and written. The identity of the lawyer is never revealed. Martineau referred to him only as “a frie
nd of mine, an eminent lawyer.”
Her next bit of narration told of the young slave girl, about eight years old according to Martineau, who was chased onto the roof by Madame and fell to her death in the courtyard. She told this as a secondhand account from a witness whose property adjoined the Lalaurie house. Martineau alleged that the little body was carried off by grieving slaves and then buried in the courtyard where she died. Martineau went on to say that an inquiry was opened to investigate the death and that Madame was found guilty of cruelty. The judge ordered that nine slaves, “who were forfeited according to law,” be removed from the Lalaurie house. She claimed that the Madame used family connections to purchase these same slaves back for the sole reason of imprisoning and torturing them, “for she could not let them be seen in a neighborhood where they were known.”
It is assumed by many storytellers and writers that the seven slaves who were pulled from the fire were these very slaves. Although this is an enduring part of the legend, its veracity is somewhat dubious. The entire story was told secondhand and even thirdhand to Harriet Martineau. Our later investigation revealed that no court records exist for the death of the slave child nor of any legal judgment against Madame.
One tidbit of gossip that Martineau included, which is not commonly included in the lore, is that Delphine was an abusive mother:
It appears that she beat her daughters as often as they attempted in her absence to convey food to her miserable victims. She always knew of such attempts by means of the sleek coachman, who was her spy. It was necessary to have a spy, to preserve her life from the vengeance of her household: so she pampered this obsequious negro, and at length owed her escape to him.
Mad Madame LaLaurie Page 5
