New thoughts on the Queen's Black baby

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I've fallen into the rabbit hole of research today. I began this research thinking that it wasn't possible for the Queen to have had a child by a beloved African dwarf — but now I'm not so sure. I've put together the evidence (such as it is) ... and my own conclusions (for now): here.

What's interesting about the Madame de Montespan chapters (I'll take up the question of their authenticity later) is the repeated statement that looking at someone while pregnant could affect the looks of the child. For example, in speaking of a young man who looks very much like the King:

The resemblance, I must confess, is the most striking that I have yet
seen; for it is complete, even to the tone of the voice. But a look
might have operated this miracle. Instance the little negress, the
daughter of the poor Queen, that Queen so timid and entirely natural, who, to her happiness, as much as to her glory, has never looked at, approached, or distinguished any one except the King. (Chapter XXXIII, page 474)

The Black Nun of Moret

I was delighted to get an email from Lynn Nottage, author of the play Las Meninas, in response to my earlier post on the Queen's black baby.

She wrote:

I'd definitely welcome a conversation about the research I did for my play Las Meninas. The book that I found in the public library (the original copy), was translated into English in the early 1700's from Montespan's Memoir written in the late 1600's. It has been some years, but I will dig through my files and share what I found. If indeed Montespan didn't write the memoir, it is a highly imaginative and detailed account of the Queen's "black" child, detailing her birth, her childhood and her eventual placement
in a convent. I'd love to discuss. If it is an invention, I'd love to
know the reasons behind such an invention in the late 1600s and why this rumor turns up in so many accounts.

Regarding the Memoirs of Madame de Montespan (translated into English and available on-line), they are generally regarded as not, in fact, written by her, but I didn't know more so I turned, as so I often do, to the sage wisdom of Gary McCollim, who wrote:

As to the actual author of the so-called Mémoires of Madame de Montespan, the name generally given as the author is the Abbé Philippe Musoni. They were first published in 1829. This is according to Catherine Decours bibliography at the end of her pseudo-mémoires of La Montespan published in 2001 under the title Aimée du Roi. Jean-Christian Petitfils also includes this notation in his bibliography to his biography of La Montespan.

In my own bibliography, I had noted that these faux memoirs were “Written by Abbé L. Lafont d'Aussonne, d'après Quérard." Gary looked into this and reported back:

A brief search on the Internet reveals that Querard was an early nineteenth century writer who published a guide to writers in the nineteenth century including Lafont d'Ausonne. However, the listing of the books written by Lafont d'Ausonne does not include the memoirs of Madame de Montespan, although he did write a two volume history of Madame de Maintenon. Most of his work was on Marie Antoinette.

So: according to this, Abbé Philippe Musoni is likely the author, and the Memoirs were first published in 1829. This doesn't jive with the memoirs Lynn Nottage read, which were translated in the 1700s.

I did a deep search on the Net, and didn't come up with anything about Musoni or Lafont d'Aussonne, but Wikipedia does have an entry on Louise Marie-Therese (The Black Nun of Moret) which touches on a number of the theories.

(Image at left, Louise Marie-Therese.)

Faux memoirs are interesting historical documents because they frame a view of history as it was seen at that time. The Memoirs of Madame de Montespan are particularly interesting because, in parts, they are full of wit, humor and detail. I had the impression that the author must have been a member of the court. Who was the author -- and how did he or she get such detailed information? It's a mystery that I would love to see solved.

Since then, Lynn Nottage has written me again, giving me the references in the Montespan Memoirs. More on this anon ....

The Queen's Black baby: fact or fiction?

Much has been written about the possibility that Louis XIV's wife, the Queen, gave birth to a black daughter. Needless-to-say, this has given rise to a number of salacious rumours.

Lynn Nottage, author of the play Las Meninas, writes about the spark for the play — read an essay about the African presence in royal families. In this essay was a paragraph that mentioned a romance between an African dwarf and the Queen Marie Thérèse of France. Nottage spent close to eight years researching this and came to the conclusion that the story was true: that in 1661, the Queen had a romance with an African dwarf named Nabo, and gave birth to a child named Louise Marie, "who was whisked from the palace and sent to a convent where she spent her entire life, first as a novice and then a nun. She did not take vows until she was much older." (I would love to correspond with Lynn Nottage about her research.)

One thing is certain: the Queen would not have given birth privately. There would have been witnesses. Author Catherine Delors has written a wonderful account of Marie Antoinette having to give birth in an all-too-public manner on her blog, Versailles and more, some of which was also posted to Wonders and Marvels, a blog on the 17th century.

Gary McCollim, a historian I often quote here, weighed in on this rumour of a black daughter recently. First, he examined the sources often quoted:

1) Cardinal Dubois was not an eyewitness and he might not have written his memoirs.

2) Voltaire was definitely not an eyewitness. He was born in 1694 and the so-called black daughter was born in 1664.

3) Saint-Simon was not an eyewitness as he was born in 1675.

4) The memoires of the marquise de Montespan were not written by La Montespan but by a male writer after she had died.

5) Thus, the only eyewitness might have been the duchesse de Montpensier, Louis XIV's cousin who was called La Grande Mademoiselle. However, her memoirs only say that the queen gave birth prematurely to a child who was very dark.

We do have some other evidence about this child. Madame, Louis XIV's sister-in-law, wrote that her husband Monsieur who was an eyewitness said that the female child born in 1664 was not black but very ugly. Madame went on to say that no one could get the idea out of people's heads that the child was still alive and was living in a convent at Moret near Fontainebleau. In any case, Madame wrote, it is certain that the ugly child died. All the court had seen her di

Then, we also have copies of letters that Louis XIV wrote to tell the rest of sovereign Europe of the death of his daughter on 26 December 1664.

And finally, we have several sources that report that Louis XIV had a Maurish coachman with a pretty wife. They had a child that the king and queen acted as godparents for. When the child's parents died, Madame de Maintenon had the child put into this convent. As goddaughter to the king and queen, this child might refer to the Dauphin as her brother.

Today, Gary posted more on this mystery after reading a recent biography of Queen Marie Thérèse by Joëlle Chevé:

She discusses the so-called black baby on pages 250-253. Several important facts emerge. First, the baby was born at least one month prematurely. The queen had been sick for several weeks before the child was born. They wanted to giver her last rites which the queen refused because she could not face dying. She would take communion but eventually she agreed to accept the last rites.

In the midst of this long illness, when everyone was wondering what could be done, Madame Foucquet brought a remedy. (Her husband was on trial for his life at the time.) The queen remained ill until January 1665 or two months after the birth of the child Marie-Anne.

Then, Chevé turns to discuss the child who was born under these conditions. Everyone agreed that the child was born with a dark almost violet complexion and a weak constitution. Chevé then cites the memoirs of the Grande Mademoiselle (the duchesse de Montpensier) who was not an eyewitness to the birth but was informed by Monsieur about the child's complexion. When the Grande Mademoiselle did see the child she says that she knew right away that the child was too weak to live.

As to the black nun of Moret, she took the veil in 1695 when the child Marie-Anne, had she lived, would have been thirty years old. This is a late age for taking the veil. Chevé doubts that the black nun was thirty years old. When the rumors began circulating that the black nun was in fact the child Marie-Anne, Madame de Maintenon tried to squelch them by saying that she had put the girl in the convent as a favor for the girl's parents who were Moors who worked in the King's Menagerie.

As for me, I'm still uncertain. As with births, the death of a child was also public. Why are there no accounts?

(The image of Marie Antoinette's public birthing is taken from Catherine's blog.)