Chapter V: Part I: The Abbaye-Aux Bois (3)

“We entered her cell, but she looked at us with an air of such severity that I turned quite pale, and Choiseul, bold as she was, trembled. Madame de Rochechouart asked whether the young ladies were in the schoolroom. We said no. ‘Then,’ said she, ‘I will listen to nothing from them; you may carry your complaint to the Lady Abbess, or to any one you choose; I will have nothing to do in the matter, and you have taken the best means of disgusting me with trying to manage such a set of madcaps, more fit to be enlisted amongst the followers of some army than to acquire the modesty and gentleness which are the charm of woman.’ We were much confused, and Mademoiselle de Choiseul, who had more courage than I, threw herself at her feet and said that a word from her would always be sovereign law, and that she did not doubt that each one felt the same, but that in an affair of honour we would sooner die than seem to betray or abandon our companions. ‘Well,’ said Madame de Rochechouart, ‘speak to whom you will, for I have ceased to be your mistress.’ We left her, and went to the abbatial rooms. The Lady Abbess read our petition, but not in our presence; we only knew that Madame de Rochechouart was sent for, but we did not hear what took place. Only when the Lady Abbess received us, she told us such conduct was unheard of, that such an event had never occurred before, even in a college, and she asked who was at the head of the rebellion. We answered that it had been the inspiration of the moment, and that it seemed as if the whole class had had but one mind.

“Madame de Rochechouart was there, and did not say a word. ‘Well,’ said the Lady Abbess, ‘if the young ladies will return, I will grant a general amnesty, but that is all I can do. As for Madame de Saint Jérôme, she is a person of great merit, and this fine hatred of her is a mere whim.’ However, we went our way back to the kitchens. All the people we met questioned us. When we got back everybody surrounded us, saying: ‘What news?’--‘None!’ we answered mournfully. Then we told them what had been said to us; and the young ladies soon made up their minds. They begged Madame de Saint Sulpice to give out the provisions. Madame de Saint Sulpice said she was only assistant nun in the kitchens, and had not got the keys. Then we broke open the doors of the bakery and meat-store, and Sister Clothilde, after some resistance, was obliged to give in to numbers, and prepared the supper, which was very merry. We did a thousand foolish things; we drank Madame de Rochechcuart’s health, and the affection the pupils all had for her is proved by this, that our only fear was lest she should leave the class; but we said to ourselves, that in the bottom of her heart she would forgive us all this; one of the chief reasons that had made us take a dislike to Madame de Saint Jérôme being that Madame de Rochechouart did not approve of her being in the schoolroom. The best joke was that Madame de Saint Sulpice, who was lively and amiable, was in the best possible spirits, and was quite reconciled to having been so forcibly detained. After supper we played at all sorts of games, and she played with us. She kept saying that she seemed to be there as a hostage, and that if the young ladies were not pleased she would be the one to blame. When bedtime came we made up a sort of couch, with some straw, which we took from the backyard. It was decided that this couch should be for Madame de Saint Sulpice, but she refused it, and said we must give it up to the youngest girls, who were the most delicate. We therefore settled on it the little Fitz-James, Villequier, Montmorency, and several other children of five or six years of age. We wrapped up their heads in napkins and clean kitchen cloths, so that they should not catch cold. About thirty of the older girls posted themselves in the garden before the door, for fear of a surprise. The others remained in the kitchens. And so we spent the night, partly in talking, partly in sleeping, as best we could. Next morning we prepared to spend the day in the same way, and we felt as if this state of things was to last all our lives. However, as we afterwards heard, they were all in a great state of perplexity at the Convent. Some were of a mind to frighten us by calling in the patrol; but Madame de Rochechouart said the real mischief would lie in the scandal this would occasion, and that it would be more advisable to send for the mothers of those pupils who were supposed to be the ringleaders. Accordingly Madame la Duchesse de Châtillon, Madame de Mortemart, Madame de Blot, Madame du Châtelet arrived. They came to our camp, and called their daughters and their nieces. These did not dare to resist, and so they carried them off. Then a lay sister was despatched to the pupils to say that the schoolroom was open, that it was ten o’clock, and that all those who should be back in class by twelve would have a general pardon for past conduct. After a great consultation, the principal mutineers being gone, we all returned and ranged ourselves in our places. We found all the mistresses assembled, and even Madame de Saint Jérôme, who seemed rather embarrassed, was there. Madame Saint Antoine said we deserved to be punished, but, however, that it was the return of the prodigal child. This mistress was at the head of the red class,--she belonged to the Talleyrand family,--and was much beloved and respected. Madame Saint Jean was delighted to see us back; she told us she had felt very dull during our absence; in fact all the mistresses were most indulgent.

“It was with much dread that we looked forward to the moment when we should have to appear before Madame de Rochechouart. This was not till the evening, when the names were called over. Much to our astonishment, she did not say one word about what had happened; and indeed, some of us innocently persuaded ourselves that she had altogether ignored it. As for me, when the Duchesse de Mortemart had come to ask for her daughter, she had said to me: ‘My sister-in-law has had great pleasure in acting as a mother toward you; it is for you to show whether you mean to confirm that title by obeying her orders. She has asked for you. Let us go to her.’ I immediately followed the Duchesse de Mortemart and her daughter. We were taken to the schoolroom, whither the remainder of the scholars shortly after returned. I only saw Madame de Rochechouart in the evening, when our names were called. When my turn came, she looked at me with a smile, and chucked me under the chin, and I kissed her hand. The next day everything resumed its usual course.

“Madame de Saint Jérôme was left for another month in the schoolroom, and then removed to other functions. About thirty of the pupils had not joined in the insurrection, amongst others Lévis, and they were simply wretched. They were tormented and run down by the whole class; they had fancied they would gain great credit by their conduct; but Madame de Rochechouart did not like them any the better for it. One of them said one day to Madame de Rochechouart: ‘I was not in the insurrection,’ and Madame de Rochechouart answered, in an absent manner: ‘I compliment you.’”

Shortly after this memorable episode the young girls were much interested in the marriage of one of their companions,--Mademoiselle de Bourbonne,--and Hélène does not fail to describe it.

“One day Mademoiselle de Bourbonne returned from her stay in society looking very depressed, and remained a long time with Madame de Rochechouart. The next day all her relations came to see Madame de Rochechouart, and ten days later she came to us, conducted by Mesdemoiselles de Châtillon, the eldest of whom was her great friend, to announce her marriage with M. le Comte d’Avaux, son of M. le Marquis de Mesme. We all gathered round her, and asked her a hundred questions. She was barely twelve years old, was to make her first communion a week thence, to be married eight days after that, and then return to the Convent.[50] She seemed so very melancholy that we asked her if her intended did not please her. She frankly told us that he was very ugly and very old, and she added that he was coming to see her the next day. We begged the Lady Abbess to have the Orléans apartments, which looked on to the Abbatial court, thrown open to us, so that we might view the intended husband of our companion, and she granted our request.

“The next day, on awaking, Mademoiselle de Bourbonne received a large bouquet, and in the afternoon M. d’Avaux came. We thought him horrible, which he certainly was. When Mademoiselle de Bourbonne came out of the parlour, we all said to her: ‘Ah! good heavens! how ugly your husband is; if I were you, I would not marry him. Ah! you unfortunate girl!’ And she said: ‘Oh, I shall marry him, because papa insists upon it; but I shall not love him, that is certain.’ It was decided that she should not see him again till the day she made her first communion, so that her attention should not be distracted. She made her first communion at the end of eight days, and four or five days after was married in the chapel of the hôtel d’Havré.

“She returned to the Convent the same day. She was given jewels, diamonds, and magnificent wedding presents from Boland; what amused her most was that we all called her Madame d’Avaux. She told us that after the wedding ceremony there had been a breakfast at her mother-in-law’s; that they had wanted her to kiss her husband, but that she began to cry, and absolutely refused; and that then her mother-in-law had said she was only a child. Henceforth her strong aversion to her husband only grew and flourished, and once when he asked for her in the parlour, she pretended to have sprained her ankle sooner than go down to see him.”

On hearing of such marriages it is impossible not to feel some indulgence for the theory of free choice so eloquently pleaded by the women and philosophers of that period. We are therefore scarcely surprised to hear that some years later Madame d’Avaux, on meeting in society the Vicomte de Sègur, youngest brother of the ambassador, was so captivated by his charming wit and personal attractions that she was drawn into an intimacy which lasted all her life.

The arch and ingenuous narrative of the little Princess also enables us to touch the weak point in this Convent education, so admirable in many respects. These young girls, brought up away from a world they were burning to know, were destined beforehand to be carried away by its temptations. How was it possible for the nuns to warn them against dangers of which they themselves were ignorant? A mother alone can fulfil that duty; and though the Convent may form the character and manners, adorn the mind and develop accomplishments, it is family life alone that can create _woman_ in the highest and healthiest sense of the word.

But let us return to Hélène, who was preparing for her first communion, together with her friends Mesdemoiselles de Mortemart, de Châtillon, de Damas, de Montsauge, de Conflans, de Vaudreuil,[51] and de Chauvigny. The great day arrived, and the young friends partook together of the communion.

“On that day,” says Hélène, “the pupils do not wear their Convent dress, but a white gown, striped or embroidered in silver. Mine was in watered silk striped with silver. Nine days after we made a gift of our dresses to the vestry. We folded our gowns, fetched from the vestry large silver salvers, and after the Gospel, during the offertory, we went one after the other and laid our gift on the altar next to the choir. After Mass we went to the schoolroom, where our white ribbons were taken off and red ones given us instead, and all the class embraced and congratulated us.”

FOOTNOTES:

[48] Her mother, the Comtesse de Lastic, was lady-in-waiting to Mesdames de France.

[49] Mademoiselle de Mortemart was Madame de Rochechouart’s niece. She married in 1777 the Marquis de Rougé.

[50] This kind of marriage was frequent at that period.

[51] Mesdemoiselles de Conflans and de Vaudreuil were sisters. Mademoiselle de Conflans was pretty, had a great deal of wit and spirit of repartee. She married the Marquis de Coigny. Her sister, who was neither as pretty nor as witty, tried to imitate her in everything (Hélène’s own note).

V

The Convent duties--The Abbess’s department--Balls at the Abbaye-aux-Bois--Madame de Rochechouart and her friends.

When the retreat that followed the first communion was ended, the Chapter assembled in order to decide what should be the function assigned to each of the pupils recently admitted to the Holy Communion.

It was an established custom at the Abbaye-aux-Bois for the pupils to perform the duties of the Convent in its nine different offices, which were as follows:--

The abbatial.[52]
The sacristy.
The parlour.
The dispensary.
The linen department.
The library.
The refectory.
The kitchen.
The community.

A certain number of lay sisters were associated with them in these employments, which only occupied a limited number of hours, and did not interfere with accomplishments, but formed the greatest contrast with them, as well as with the aristocratic names of the young ladies. Mesdemoiselles de la Roche Aymon and de Montbarrey could be seen carefully arranging the piles of napkins and sheets in the presses, while Mesdemoiselles de Chauvigny and de Nantouillet laid the cloth; Mesdemoiselles de Beaumont and d’Armaillé added up the accounts; Mademoiselle d’Aiguillon mended a chasuble; Mademoiselle de Barbantanne was on duty at the gate; Mademoiselle de Latour-Maubourg gave out the sugar and the coffee; Mesdemoiselles de Talleyrand and de Duras were at the orders of the community; Mademoiselle de Vogüé had a particular talent for cooking; and Mesdemoiselles d’Uzès and de Boulainvilliers superintended the sweeping of the dormitories, under the direction of Madame de Bussy, irreverently nicknamed by the pupils _la mère Graillon_; finally, Mesdemoiselles de Saint Simon and de Talmont were responsible for repairs; and Mesdemoiselles d’Harcourt, de Rohan-Guéménée, de Brassac, and de Galaar lighted the lamps, under the supervision of Madame de Royaume, whom they called _the Mother of Light_.

After having acted the part of _Esther_ in a dress embroidered with diamonds and pearls worth a hundred thousand écus,[53] Hélène returned to the Convent, and, resuming her little black frock again, prepared decoctions and poultices in the dispensary.

Such an education may appear strange to us, but it unquestionably prepared excellent housekeepers and accomplished women of the world.

“I was very anxious,” Hélène says, “that we should not be separated, and that we should be placed together in the dispensary. On the contrary, I was sent to the abbey-house, and Mademoiselle de Choiseul to the record office. Mesdemoiselles de Conflans, who did not know how to hold a needle, were sent to the sacristy. This made us very cross.

“However, if Mademoiselle de Choiseul had been with me, I should have been very happy at the abbey-house, where the Lady Abbess[54] ruled with the greatest gentleness and justice. She had taken a great liking to me; she considered that I did her commissions with intelligence. I was quick, and when she rang I was always the first to come; I knew her books, her papers, her work, and was always the one she sent to fetch what she required from her desk, her bookshelf, or her chiffonier.”

Hélène’s companions at the abbey-house were apparently amiable, judging by the record she has left us.

“Mademoiselle de Châtillon, nicknamed _Tatillon_ (busybody), fourteen years old, serious, pedantic, very pretty, but rather stout.

“Madame d’Avaux, born a Bourbonne, twelve years old, just married, very small, a pretty face, silly, but good-natured.

“Mademoiselle de Mura, nicknamed _la Précieuse_ (the conceited), eighteen years old, pretty, handsome even, witty, amiable, but rather pretentious.

“Mademoiselle de Lauraguais, very pretty, quiet, gentle, not clever; was married the same year to the Duc d’Aremberg.

“Mademoiselle de Manicamp, her sister, plain, kind, very intelligent, hasty, passionate.

“I had become very intimate with Madame de Sainte Gertrude and Madame Saint Cyprien; they were regular madcaps, fond of laughter and amusement. Mademoiselle de Manicamp was also a great addition to society. Madame d’Avaux used to tell us so very frankly that she cordially detested her husband, that we were always joking about it; and openly made fun of him whenever he came to see her, as unfortunately for him the windows of the Abbess’s apartments looked out on the yard, so that it was impossible for him to avoid our mischievous glances.

“Mademoiselle de Mortemart was also on duty at the abbey-house, and her presence alone was sufficient to banish all dulness and melancholy. We laughed at the grand airs Madame de Torcy gave herself, and maintained that she had only become a nun because she had found in Jesus Christ alone a spouse worthy of her, and even then she was not quite sure she had not made a _mésalliance_!

“Madame de Romelin, all bristling over with Greek and Latin, amused us also; we called her Aristotle’s eldest daughter; this did not make her angry, as she was very good-natured.

“But our great delight was to establish the pretentious Mura at the harpsichord; then she sang, and Madame de Sainte Gertrude, who was extremely merry and an excellent mimic, stood behind her, and imitated all her affectations.

“A great many people also came to ask for permits, or to speak to Madame de Royer, or to the Lady Abbess.

“This dissipation might suit a good many other people, but for my part I was rather bored by the functions at the abbey-house; I do not know why, but this fashion of dancing attendance on others seemed to me humiliating.”

It was the custom at the Abbaye-aux-Bois to give a ball once a week during the carnival.

“On that day,” says the young Princess, “we laid aside our school dress, and every mother decked out her daughter as well as she could; our attire on these occasions was most elegant. A great many women of the world attended our balls, especially young married ladies, who, not being able to go out alone, preferred them to those of the fashionable world, as they were not obliged to remain all the time seated next to their mothers-in-law.”

It is evident that already at this period a young married woman dreaded the tyranny of a mother-in-law, who indeed exercised a far greater authority over her than even her own mother. The mother-in-law was alone privileged to accompany the young married woman in society. Probably it was reasonable enough to expect less indulgence on her part than on a mother’s, and the husband preferred this safeguard, precluded as he was by custom and the fear of exciting ridicule from watching or even noticing his wife. We shall see that the supervision of the mother-in-law could ill be dispensed with for some of these giddy young women.

“One day, when Madame de Luynes[55] and Madame de la Roche Aymon[56] were at the ball, they sent away their carriages, and hid themselves in Mademoiselle d’Aumont’s[57] apartment. After the bell had been rung for silence, they began making the most horrible noise, which they kept up in the Convent throughout the night. They broke all the pitchers that are put outside the ladies’ cells; they stopped all the nuns whom they met going to Matins; in fact, they made a most diabolical noise.

“The Lady Abbess gave orders that these ladies should not be in any way insulted, but that they should be given no food, and not be allowed to leave the Convent. When eleven o’clock struck, they asked for something to eat, but they were refused; then they requested that the gates should be opened, but Madame de Saint Jacques, who was head portress, said that the keys were at the Lady Abbess’s. Then they sent Mademoiselle d’Aumont to beg the Lady Abbess to have the doors opened for them. The Lady Abbess sent them word that having remained without her permission, they should not leave till their families came to fetch them away; upon which they were in despair. Madame de Rochechouart, on the other hand, warned them to be careful when the pupils were going or returning from Mass or the refectory, as she could not answer for their not being insulted should they find themselves in their way. If the truth be known, we were most anxious to hoot them, and turn them into derision; we were even ready to throw water at them. Meanwhile Madame de la Roche Aymon was expected to dinner at her uncle’s, the Cardinal de la Roche Aymon, and Madame la Duchesse de Chevreuse on her side was expecting her daughter-in-law, Madame la Duchesse de Luynes. Their attendants said they had remained at the Abbaye-aux-Bois. Accordingly their relations sent word that they were waiting for them; but the Lady Abbess wrote to Madame de Chevreuse, and to the Cardinal, that Mesdames de Luynes and de la Roche Aymon were not quite right in their heads, and that she would hand them over only to their relations. Madame de Chevreuse, in a state of anxiety, hurried to the Abbey, when she soundly rated her daughter-in-law; and the two prisoners, very much annoyed at this adventure, were given into her charge.

“Mademoiselle d’Aumont excused herself by saying she was not aware that these ladies were hiding in her room, but there was every reason to believe she was implicated in the plot.

“A fine story occurred at another ball. Mademoiselle de Chevreuse found a note appointing a meeting, addressed to Madame la Vicomtesse de Laval, who had been at the ball and had dropped it. The note ran as follows: ‘You are adorable, my dear Vicomtesse; trust in my discretion and my fidelity. To-morrow at the same hour and in the same house.’ On finding this note, Mademoiselle de Chevreuse immediately read it and put it in her pocket; after the ball she showed it to all the red class. We could well imagine that it was a gentleman who wrote to her like that. The mistresses, hearing of it, insisted on having the note, and we believe it must have been returned to Madame de Laval, as she never came again to the Convent for any of the carnival balls.”

There was much talk in Paris two years later concerning an affront sustained by Madame de Laval. Bachaumont mentions that Madame de Laval presented herself for the post of lady-in-waiting to Madame. It had been almost promised her, but she was refused it because her father, M. de Boulogne, had been treasurer in the war department, and therefore was not of gentle birth. Her father-in-law, M. de Laval, first gentleman of the chamber to Monsieur, sent in his resignation. The whole family of the Montmorency made an outcry over it.

Madame de Laval was the daughter of M. de Boulogne, _fermier général_.[58] From the anecdote related by the young Princess, and from a certain account given in Lauzun’s _Memoirs_, it seems probable that the alleged motive was only a pretext, in order to avoid placing in attendance on Madame a person with such a reputation for heedlessness.

THE SACRISTY.

“After having served three months in the abbey-house I was sent to the sacristy or vestry department, where the company was very amusing. As for the duties, they did not suit me at all, for I have always had an incredible aversion to needlework. There were at that time some very agreeable persons employed in this department, amongst others Mademoiselle de Broye and Mademoiselle de Paroi, with whom I was very intimate, and Mademoiselle de Durfort, who was lively and very charming. Mademoiselle de Paroi was pretty, had a good figure, and played the harp like an angel; she was twelve years old. Mademoiselle de Broye, a little older, was rather pretty, and overflowing with wit.

“One may well say that all the gossip and all the news was chronicled in the sacristy. It was a general meeting-place for the whole blessed day. If any one was complaining, or rejoicing, or had some event to relate, it was always to the sacristy that they came.

“The two vestry nuns were Madame de Granville and Madame de Tinel. Madame de Granville wished to teach me to embroider, for she herself embroidered most beautifully; but she never succeeded in teaching me. I therefore did no work, but was employed in folding and cleaning the vestments, and helping Madame de Saint Philippe to arrange the church.

“In the evenings at least twenty persons came to talk about what had taken place in the four corners of the establishment; but I did not remain there, for I used to go to Madame de Rochechouart’s, where I always found Madame de Choiseul, Mesdemoiselles de Conflans, Madame de Sainte Delphine, Madame de Saint Sulpice, Madame de Saint Edouard, and the best society. Madame de Sainte Delphine, sister to Madame de Rochechouart, was generally stretched out, with her feet upon a chair, beginning purses, of which she never finished one; I had much amusement in listening to her, for she was very droll; and though Madame de Rochechouart’s wit was more remarkable and striking, whereas Madame de Sainte Delphine’s was often languid like her person, yet when roused she was very agreeable. Moreover, it is well known that wit is hereditary in the Mortemart family. Madame de Sainte Delphine was one of the prettiest women one could see; she was twenty-six years old, tall, with lovely fair hair, large blue eyes, the most beautiful teeth in the world, charming features, a fine figure, and a noble carriage. She suffered a great deal from her chest, was of an indolent character, and entirely dominated by her sister.

“Madame de Saint Sulpice was pretty, lively, and amiable; Madame de Saint Edouard pretty, amiable, and very romantic. We talked as freely as we pleased, and whatever was said, I never saw Madame de Rochechouart grow warm in discussing any opinion. At the very utmost, she would throw ridicule on the matter--a talent in which she excelled, and against which it was difficult to hold one’s own. New works were read that could without inconvenience be read by us. We chatted about all that took place in Paris; for the ladies spent their days in the parlour, where they received the very best company, and the young ladies went out a great deal, so everything was known.

“It was rare at Madame de Rochechouart’s to hear any one speak ill of their neighbours, and even then it was always much more vaguely than in any of the other sets in the Convent. Yet her circle was the one most feared, for it was well known that every one there was witty, and superior to the rest. It was therefore looked upon as a kind of tribunal, whose criticism one dreaded to encounter. When, on leaving Madame de Rochechouart, I returned to the sacristy, Madame Saint Mathieu and Madame Sainte Ursule used to ask me: ‘Well, what do those exquisites say about us?’--‘Nothing, Madame,’ I could honestly reply; ‘they did not mention you.’ Then their astonishment was without end, for they themselves ran down the whole household all day long. I may say that Madame de Rochechouart, her sister Madame de Saint Sulpice, and several other ladies of their society, had an indifference amounting to contempt for anything that did not particularly concern them, and were always the last to become acquainted with the news of the Convent.

“It seemed to me that Madame de Rochechouart and her sister had a style of their own, and a manner that we all caught; I mean those of us whom she received. The women of the world were astonished at the style in which we expressed ourselves. Mademoiselle de Conflans, especially, never said anything like any one else; there was originality in her every word.”

Madame de Rochechouart’s society, the advice, full of tact, and refinement that she gave these young girls, admirably adapted them for the part they were destined to fill in the highest ranks of society. In our free and easy days we cannot have the faintest conception of what was formerly considered good style and courteous manners, nor of the value that was set on all the different shades of good breeding. “Politeness, good taste, and style constituted a kind of truce that each one guarded with care, as if it had been confided to them only. Women especially were the chief supporters of this ground-work of all the charms of society.”[59]

“I shall never forget what happened one day between me and Madame de Rochechouart. She had told me to come to her cell in the evening. So I went, and found her surrounded with papers, busily writing. I was not astonished, as she was in the habit of being so occupied; but what struck me was to see her look disconcerted and blush tremendously on my arrival. She told me to take a book and sit down.

“I therefore pretended to read, and watched her; she wrote with great agitation, rubbed her forehead, sighed, and looked around her with a fixed and absent look, as if her thoughts were a hundred leagues away.

“She often wrote like that for three consecutive hours; at the slightest sound she would give a start, which showed how absorbed she was, and seemed in a way almost angry at having been disturbed. On that day I so distinctly saw tears in her eyes that I could not help thinking that perhaps she was not happy. While pondering, I looked at her; she had a paper before her, her pen in hand, her mouth half open, her eyes looking fixedly before her, while her tears were flowing. I was so deeply affected that tears gathered in my eyes, and I was unable to suppress a deep sigh; this aroused Madame de Rochechouart, who raised her eyes, and seeing me in tears immediately concluded I had noticed the state of anxiety she was in. She held out her hand to me, in a most expressive and touching manner, saying, ‘Dear heart, what is the matter?’ I kissed her hand and burst into tears; she questioned me again, and I confessed that the extreme agitation I had seen her in had led me to suppose that she was harbouring some sorrow, and that this was the cause of my being so affected. Then she folded me in her arms, and remained silent for a time, as though reflecting on what she would say. Then she said to me: ‘I was born with a very vivid imagination, and in order to employ it, I hurriedly set down on paper all that it conceives. As among these fancies many are sad and melancholy, they often affect me keenly enough to make me shed tears. Loneliness and a life of contemplation keep up in me this propensity to give way to imagination.’ The supper bell rang while we were still talking. We parted with regret, and since then Madame de Rochechouart’s tenderness towards me increased twofold, and nothing could equal the tender interest I felt for her in return.”

FOOTNOTES:

[52] The apartments belonging to the Abbess.

[53] An écu was five shillings.

[54] Marie-Madeleine de Chabrillan. She was first a nun at the Abbaye-de-Chelles, then Abbess of the Parc-aux-Dames, and lastly Abbess of the Royal Abbaye of Notre-Dame-aux-Bois, where she succeeded Madame de Richelieu, sister of the famous Marshal.

[55] Guyonne de Montmorency Laval. She married the Duc de Chevreuse in 1765, and became Duchesse de Luynes at the death of her father-in-law in 1774. Their mansion was situated in the Rue Saint Dominique. She was appointed lady-of-honour to the Queen Marie-Antoinette in 1775.

[56] The Marquise de la Roche Aymon was appointed in 1776 lady-in-waiting to the Queen. Her husband was major-general and nephew of Cardinal de la Roche Aymon, first almoner to the King Louis XV., and Archbishop of Rheims.

[57] Mademoiselle d’Aumont, daughter of the Duc d’Aumont, first equerry to the King. The hôtel d’Aumont was in the Rue de Jouy. The ceilings, painted by Lebrun, and the staircase, and buildings looking on the gardens, were greatly admired.

[58] Tax-gatherer, who for a certain sum leased out from Government the collection of the taxes.

[59] _Les Femmes_, by Vicomte de Ségur.

VI

The record office--Madame de Saint Germain and her rasp--The ballets _Orpheus_ and _Eurydice_--The refectory--The gates and the tower--The community and the cellars--Story of Mademoiselle de Saint Ange--Madame de Sainte Delphine and the library.

“About this time I was removed from the sacristy and put into the record office. I cried a great deal when I was sent there, for all the nuns were old grumblers, with the exception of Madame de la Conception, who was of the Maillebois family; she had a dignified manner, and it was easy to see she was a lady of high birth. She knew everything connected with the Abbey, and it was a pleasure to listen to her anecdotes of former times at the monastery.

“Madame de la Conception had a mania for singing ballads; I never heard a more nasal voice. She sang every day to us the ballads of _Judith_, of _Gabrielle de Vergy_, and many others. Sometimes, to amuse us, she would show us some curious things, for they possessed, among the records, letters from Queen Blanche, from Anne of Brittany, and from several other Queens of France, addressed to the Abbesses of the Convent. Letters from Guy de Laval to his aunt, the Abbess of the Abbaye-aux-Bois, written when he was with the army during the disturbances of Charles the Seventh’s reign; La Hire and Dunois were mentioned in these letters, and several other interesting documents she showed us.

“The pupils at that time on duty at the record office[60] were Mademoiselle de Caumont, handsome, witty, but easily offended, aged thirteen; Mademoiselle d’Armaillé, fourteen years old, hideous, affected, but a good creature; Mademoiselle de Saint Chamans, ugly, with very short legs, quite out of proportion to her body, eighteen years old; Mademoiselle de Beaumont, ugly and lame, but a good soul; Mademoiselle de Sivrac, nineteen years of age, of noble appearance, but subject to spasms, and rather crazy; Mademoiselle de Lévis, kind, colourless, not clever, fourteen years of age.

“I have already mentioned Madame de Maillebois; the other nuns at the record office were: Madame de Saint Romuald, an old grumpy; Madame de Saint Germain, another old grumpy; Madame de Saint Pavin, forty-eight years old, who never spoke, and was very sly.

“We spent the whole day, Caumont and I, making fun of all these people. Madame de Saint Romuald was eighty years old, and Madame de Saint Germain seventy-five. They spent the whole day quarrelling, first about one thing and then about another; it was really incredible. They were constantly making mistakes in their accounts, and always put the fault on each other. It was comical to see them, with their spectacles on, buried up to their noses in the large archive books. They spent their days reading either the old letters that former Abbesses of the Abbaye-aux-Bois had received, or else poring over the old lawsuits of those ladies, and if ever any one wished to know anything concerning the Abbey in former times, they never could tell a thing.

“On one occasion, Madame de Saint Romuald had lent a sugar rasp to Madame de Saint Germain, who either lost it or forgot she had had it. One Sunday, during High Mass, Madame de Saint Romuald remembers her rasp; and as these two centuries were seated side by side, Madame de Saint Romuald leans over to Madame de Saint Germain, and says in a low tone--

“‘By the by, you have not returned me my rasp?’

“‘What do you mean by your rasp?’

“‘What! I did not lend you my rasp?’

“Madame de Saint Germain (annoyed at such a request in church)--

“‘I have not got your rasp.’

“The other (getting angry and raising her voice)--

“‘Give me back my rasp!’

“They continued so long and so loud that the pupils burst out laughing.

“Astonished at this, the Lady Abbess asked what had taken place; she was told; she sent word to the two ladies to be quiet, and she would send them each a rasp.

“When they returned to the office, they sulked at each other for a whole week, and whenever sugar or things lent were mentioned, Madame de Saint Romuald would at once relate the story of her rasp; how she had once had one, that she had lent it, and that it had been lost. Then Madame de Saint Germain would say that it was not true; and we often amused ourselves with putting the conversation on this subject, so as to see them quarrel.”

On leaving the record office Hélène went to the refectory department, where she spent two months. Her duties there consisted in waiting on the pupils at table, helping to lay the cloth, to keep the refectory in order, and to put away the glass and china, etc.--all useful acquirements for a future mistress of a household. However, although so busy in the refectory, Hélène did not neglect her accomplishments.

“At that time I danced in the ballets of _Orpheus_ and _Eurydice_; we danced them in our theatre, which was a very fine one, and handsomely decorated; it was at the end of the garden, near the old plague-house.

“We were in all fifty-five dancers. Mademoiselle de Choiseul danced as Orpheus, Mademoiselle de Damas as Eurydice, I as Cupid, Mesdemoiselles de Chauvigny and Montsauge were two attendants. There were ten dancers of the funeral entry, ten as the furies, ten as Orpheus’s followers, ten as Eurydice’s, and ten for the Court of Love. That winter we also played _Polyeucte_ in the Convent theatre. I took the part of Pauline, Mademoiselle de Châtillon was Polyeucte, and Mademoiselle de Choiseul, Sévère; it was a great success. Shortly after they made us study the _Cid_. I played Rodriguez, and also Cornelia, in the _Death of Pompey_.”

These performances were so full of interest for the little actresses that they frequently devoted their recreation hours to the study of their parts. The audience was composed of the mothers and relations of the pupils, and their friends. And these plays were the talk of all Paris.

However, these worldly amusements did not interfere with the regular course of their duties.

“After the refectory,” Hélène tells us, “I was a fortnight on service at the gate. There were five of us: Mademoiselle de Morard, fourteen years old, rather pretty, but stupid and insipid; Mademoiselle de Nagu, aged seventeen, pretty and amiable; Mademoiselle de Chabrillan, ugly but clever, fourteen years of age; Mademoiselle de Barbantanne, fifteen years old, looking like a boy, a romp, pretty, and a very good dancer.

“Our duty was to accompany the portress whenever she went to open the outer gates.

“The movement was perpetual; at one moment the masters, then the doctors, or else the directors; in fact, Mesdames de Fumel and de Pradines, the two portresses, were completely tired out by the evening; we did not like the former--she was sour, dry, and ill-natured.

“The turning box,[61] where I was next sent, suited me better; we saw a number of people all day long; I was there with Aumont, Cossé, and Chalais, all very amiable young ladies.

“The two nuns in charge, Mesdames de Calvisson and de Nogaret, were sisters; the latter was fond of reading, and very learned.

“We had to ring for every one who was wanted, and there was a different bell for each person. It was rather difficult not to make a mistake; for one, there would be 3, 8, and a peal; for another, V, 8, and a peal; it was endless.

“Aumont was eighteen years old, and was witty and talented; she was rather pretty, and had been married some time.

“Cossé was only twelve; she was plain, but full of charm, and very delicate; she married later the Duc de Mortemart.

“Madame d’Avaux, of whom I have already spoken, was good-natured and pretty, but silly.

“Lastly, Mademoiselle de Chalais, very pretty, fifteen years old, rather an invalid.

“This department amused us, but as the work was very fatiguing, no one ever remained there long.

“From the duties of the tower I passed on to those of the community. I could have spent a long time in this department without feeling dull if only I had been left there. I was with Mademoiselle de Talleyrand, who was pretty, amiable, and very popular, and Mademoiselle de Périgord, her sister, also pretty; Mademoiselle de Duras, pretty, and rather amiable; and finally, Mademoiselle de Spinola, who was awkward, ill-natured, but very handsome.

“Among the ladies who attended to these duties was an old nun named Madame de Saint Charles; although seventy-five years old, she was lively, and nothing disturbed her; we might make any noise around her, she did not mind it. There were always about fifty people in the community-room, busy at all kinds of needlework. Talleyrand played the harpsichord and I the harp, and we sang; these concerts greatly amused the nuns.

“This room was hung all round with full-length portraits of the Abbesses of the Abbaye-aux-Bois; nearly all of them had their coats of arms painted on an escutcheon at their feet. In this way one could tell who they were. Mother Saint Charles told us of an adventure that occurred during her novitiate, which I will relate here.

“On one occasion a certain Madame de Saint Ange came to propose her daughter as novice to Madame de la Trémouille, at that time Abbess of the Abbaye-aux-Bois. The young lady seemed of a gentle disposition, and, moreover, the mother offered a pension and dowry suitable for a girl of good family. She was therefore accepted, and entered the next day, and soon every one in the Convent was enchanted with her grace, her wit, and her gentleness. She was novice together with several others, including Madame de Saint Charles, who sometimes said to her: ‘Mademoiselle de Saint Ange, it is incredible that a young lady so modest and well-bred as you are should have the gestures and manners that you sometimes have; for when you are standing before the fireplace you spread your feet in an odd manner, and when you move up your chair you often seem about to take hold of it between your knees; in fact, it is extraordinary to see, in the same person, an air of modesty verging on constraint, occasionally combined with the gestures of a musketeer.’ Mademoiselle de Saint Ange blushingly replied that she had been brought up with a brother, whose manners she used to copy as a child, and that she had never quite got rid of them.

“One night, during a terrible thunderstorm, Madame de Saint Charles, who at that time was Mademoiselle de Ronci, came and knocked at the cell of Mademoiselle de Saint Ange, and begged her to open the door.

“Mademoiselle de Saint Ange kept her waiting a few moments, and then opened. ‘Ah,’ said Mademoiselle de Ronci, ‘I am horribly frightened in my cell; you must let me sleep in yours till the storm is gone by.’ But Mademoiselle de Saint Ange would not hear of it, telling her the holy rules forbade it, and begged her to go away. At last Mademoiselle de Ronci, seeing she was determined not to let her remain in her cell, went away, highly displeased at this want of good nature.

“When Mademoiselle de Saint Ange had been doing her novitiate for three months, her mother came one day to the Lady Abbess, to say that her daughter felt no longer any vocation for a religious life, and to beg that she might be restored to her. Mademoiselle de Saint Ange departed, to the grief of the whole Convent, who regretted her very much. Some days after, Madame de Saint Ange wrote to the Lady Abbess, to ask her pardon for the deception she had practised on her. She informed her that she had had in her establishment her son instead of her daughter. The young man having had the misfortune to kill his adversary in a duel, she had made him wear his sister’s clothes, and had put him in the Abbaye-aux-Bois, that being the only plan she could devise for sheltering him from the severity of the law.

“The Lady Abbess replied that since the thing was done, she congratulated herself that by this means the life had been saved of one who, during his stay in her house, had given her such a good impression of his character. Madame de Saint Charles told us that Mademoiselle de Saint Ange would often inadvertently speak of herself in the masculine gender.

“THE LIBRARY.

“At length I was sent to the library, to the great satisfaction of Madame de Mortemart. I was seated quietly reading in the kitchen when they came to tell me that I was appointed to the library. I quickly ran to find Madame de Sainte Delphine; as soon as she saw me she said: ‘At last you come to me; I hope we shall spend our lives together.’ Indeed I hardly left her; she was nearly always at her sister’s and I with her.

“She took no more notice of what happened to the books than if they had not existed, and yet she was fond of reading; when she wanted a book she would ask Madame de Saint Joachim for it.

“Sometimes when she was in the library, and saw that when books were fetched or returned Madame de Saint Joachim noted them down, she would express her astonishment at so much trouble being taken.

“I spent the morning doing commissions for her, and generally went to her immediately after appearing before Madame de Rochechouart at morning class.

“After going to _prime_[62] she had gravely returned to bed, and thought no more of getting up; when I went in I used to say: ‘Madame, it is half-past eight o’clock.’

“‘Ah, good heavens, is it possible? I cannot believe it!’

“Sometimes Madame de Rochechouart, on returning from the schoolroom, would come into her cell, and say: ‘My sister, it is shameful for a nun to be still in bed.’ Thereupon Madame de Sainte Delphine would reply: ‘I have taken no vow not to sleep to my heart’s content.’ Madame de Rochechouart would then say: ‘Well, Hélène, you must make my sister get up.’ I would call Sister Leonard, then she would close her curtains, put on her chemise, and dress herself without doing her hair. She looked charming thus, when dressed, with her head still bare; she kept her hair rather long, for fear of catching cold; it was of the most beautiful colour. She next washed her head in tepid water, and put on her guimp and veil. ‘Madame,’ I would say, ‘is there nothing you have forgotten?’--‘No, nothing to-day.’ But scarcely had she entered the library[63] when she exclaimed: ‘Hélène, I have forgotten my hand-kerchief.’ I would run to fetch it; sometimes it was one thing, sometimes another. She would keep me thus running about all the morning, but I was so fond of her that I did not mind it.”

FOOTNOTES:

[60] This department consisted of a large hall, entirely fitted up with drawers for the archives; a second hall containing the library of the repository, and a room for the nuns in charge.

There were four ladies, two secretaries, six pupils, and two lay sisters.

[61] There were two nuns at the turning box, and five pupils.

[62] Prime, a term of the Roman Catholic Liturgy, the first canonical hour succeeding lauds, beginning at six in the morning.

[63] The library at the Abbaye-aux-Bois occupied three large halls, contained sixteen thousand volumes, and possessed a very complete collection of theological works.

VII

Mademoiselle de Choiseul and her mother--Madame de Stainville’s romantic adventures--Mademoiselle de Choiseul’s wedding--Taking the veil.

“My intimacy with Mademoiselle de Choiseul increased day by day; we had everything in common, our books, our trinkets, and even the keys of our drawers and writing desks, were mutually in each other’s possession.

“It happened about that time that Mademoiselle de Lévis[64] one day publicly taunted Mademoiselle de Choiseul before the whole class with the fact of her mother’s being kept in confinement on account of her having been in love with an actor.

“Mademoiselle de Choiseul, although very angry, was not disconcerted, and said: ‘No; my mother lives in the country because she prefers it, at least that is what I have always been told. But if what you say be true, it will not be the most commendable action on your part to have enlightened me on the subject.’

“The whole class was exceedingly irritated with Mademoiselle de Lévis, and all the young ladies told her that her conduct was infamous; that no one could be reproached for a thing of that kind; that they were in despair at its having happened in their class; and that they would ask as a favour for her removal back into the blue class, in consideration of her own honour, since the more she was treated like a child the more excusable her behaviour would be.

“Then Mademoiselle de Lévis sought out Mademoiselle de Choiseul, who was in a corner of the classroom, and being mean-spirited, knelt down before her and begged her not to repeat the story. All the young ladies of her class followed and hooted her. Mademoiselle de Choiseul replied aloud: ‘Mademoiselle, all that I can do for you is not to mention your name, and I give you my word of honour that it shall not pass my lips; but I should be condemned for ever in the eyes of my companions if I appeared unconcerned after what you have told me in their presence, and if I did not seek information about my mother from my relatives.’

“At that moment a mistress, who had noticed during the last hour the disturbance amongst the pupils, came forward and asked what had happened. Mademoiselle de Choiseul said that she had had a dispute with one of the pupils, and that it was now over; the mistress asked if any one had a complaint to make, and as we remained silent she returned to her seat.

“Mademoiselle de Choiseul and I afterwards held a consultation, in order to see what steps she should take, and we decided that she must speak of this event to Madame de Rochechouart.

“I asked Mademoiselle de Choiseul if she had had no suspicions of what she had been taunted with, and she said: ‘No; I fancied that my mother was a peculiar woman, and was disliked by her family, and that was her reason for preferring to live in the country.’ She also added: ‘Neither my father[65] nor my uncle ever mention her to me, and when occasionally I have spoken of her, I noticed that the subject was distasteful; but now that I recall a host of things said before me, I am afraid what Mademoiselle de Lévis told me is true.’ Then she added: ‘I am suffocating, I feel an imperative need to weep, and am controlling myself here.’ I went to Mother Quatre Temps and asked her to allow me to go to Madame de Rochechouart, as I had something to say to her, and she gave me the permission. Mademoiselle de Choiseul, on her side, went to ask Madame de Saint Pierre, who, being very strict, replied that she might wait to see Madame de Rochechouart till the names were called over in the evening.

“Choiseul, who was very quick tempered, could bear it no longer, and burst into tears. Madame de Saint Pierre said she was out of temper, and ordered her to go and kneel down. She obeyed. All the pupils pitied her, and made much of her. They told Lévis that she was the cause of all this trouble; she had remained in a corner of the room, not daring to show herself. Mademoiselle de Choiseul said to me in a low voice: ‘As you have permission, go to Madame de Rochechouart, tell her my trouble, and beg her to send for me; but do not mention Lévis, as I have promised not to do so.’

“I therefore ran off to Madame de Rochechouart. I did not find her in her cell, but only Madame de Sainte Delphine, who said to me: ‘Ah! it is you, my pussy. I am very glad to see you, for I was feeling as dull as a dog, waiting for my sister. Tell me something amusing, I beg of you, for I am in exceedingly low spirits.’