The Governess of the Children of France was the Viscountess of Gontaut,
who, as a recompense for the manner in which she had accomplished her
task, was made Duchess by Charles X. in 1826. Here is the opening of
her unpublished Memoirs:--
"January, 1853. To Madame the Countess and Monsieur the Count Georges
Esterhazy. My dear children, you have shown a desire to know the events
of my long life. Wishing to teach them to your children, I yield to
this amiable and tender purpose, promising myself, meanwhile, to resist
the too common charm of talking pitilessly about myself. I shall search
my memory for souvenirs of the revolutions I have often witnessed to
give interest to my tales. One writes but ill at eighty, but one may
claim indulgence from hearts to which one is devoted."
The amiable and intelligent octogenarian had no need of indulgence. Her
Memoirs possess irresistible attraction, grace, exquisite naturalness,
and we are convinced that when they are published--as they must be
sooner or later--they will excite universal interest.
Born at Paris in 1773, the Duchess of Gontaut was the daughter of Count
Montault-Navailles and of the Countess, NEE Coulommiers. All her
memories of childhood and early youth were connected with the old
court. She had seen Marie Antoinette in all her splendor, Versailles
when it was most dazzling, and she was, formed in the elegant manners
of that charm ing world whose social prestige was so great. At seven
she was held at the baptismal font by the Count of Provence (the future
Louis XVIII.) and by the wife of this Prince.
"I had for this ceremony," she says, "a GRAND HABIT and a GRAND PANIER.
I was so proud of them that I caused much amusement at the Queen's,
whither my mother took me after the baptism. Being connected with the
Duchess of Polignac, she often took me to Versailles; there I saw
Madame Royale, younger than I, and the poor, little, handsome,
delightful Dauphin. The Queen, wishing to give them a little fete,
organized a children's spectacle, in which I was entrusted with a part.
The piece chosen was Iphigenie en Aulide. Mademoiselle de Sabran and
her brother, as well as a young Strogonoff, were, it is said, perfect
actors. Armand de Polignac had a little part. Tragedy was not my forte.
But in the second piece I achieved a little success, which the
Chevalier de Boufflers was kind enough to celebrate in a very bright
couplet, sung at the close. He gave me the name of the Little White
Mouse. After that the Queen called me her little white mouse, and
showed me a thousand kindnesses. After the play there was a children's
supper; the princes waited on, us and were much diverted by our
enjoyment; Louis XVI. stood behind my chair for a moment, and even gave
me a plate. The Queen sent me home in her sedan chair; footmen carried
great torches; the body-guard presented arms to us. So much honor
would, perhaps, have turned my head, but for my prudent mother who knew
how to calm it."
The sorrows of exile followed rapidly on the first enchantments of
life. It was in England, during the Emigration, that the future
Governess of the Children of France married M. de Saint-Blanchard,
Viscount de Gontaut-Biron. She was then residing at Epsom, where she
lived on the proceeds of little pictures which she painted. She gave
birth to twin daughters October 9th, 1796. "I nursed them both," she
says, "our means not permitting us to have two nurses in one little
household, and I felt strong enough for this double task. Brought into
the world at seven and one-half months, their frail existence required
my care night and day." In 1797, Madame de Gontaut visited Paris under
a false name, and after this journey, on which she ran many risks, she
returned to England, where she was the companion in exile of the
princes. Monsieur, the Count d'Artois, the future Charles X., was then
pursued by his creditors. The Castle of Holyrood, privileged by law,
sheltered its occupants from all legal process. That is why the Prince
Regent offered its hospitality to the brother of Louis XVIII., seeking
in every way to soften the severity of the old palace.
"But the saying is true," adds Madame de Gontaut, "that there are no
pleasant prisons. The Castle of Holyrood, as well as the park, was
spacious. The governor visited there, and also several Scotch families,
very agreeable socially. Monsieur could not 'leave the limits' except
on Sunday, when the law allows no arrest. He had a carriage that he
loaned to us, reserving it only for Sunday, when he was out from
morning to night. To these excellent Scotch people a visit from him was
an honor, a festival. Our little society comedies amused Monsieur as
much as us; I always had, unluckily, a part that I never knew; I could
never in my life learn anything by heart; I listened, filled my mind
with the subject, and went ahead, to the great amusement of the
audience and the despair of my fellow-players." After a while the suits
against the Prince came to an end, and he could quit Holyrood, his
debtor's prison.
Madame de Gontaut made a very good figure at Louis XVIII.'s little
court at Hartwell. By her wit and her tact, she won the friendship of
all the royal family, and much sympathy in high English society. She
returned to France with Louis XVIII., and no lady of the court was
regarded with greater respect. At the time of the marriage of the Duke
of Berry, she became lady companion to the new Duchess, whom she went
to meet at Marseilles.
The King, Monsieur, the Duke and Duchess of Berry, all showed equal
confidence in Madame de Gontaut, and her nomination as Governess of the
Children of France was received with general approval and sympathy. A
woman of mind and heart, she performed her task with as much zeal as
intelligence, and though strict with her two pupils, she made herself
beloved by them. She especially applied herself to guard them against
the snares of flattery. On this subject she relates a characteristic
anecdote. One day a family that had been recommended to her asked the
favor of seeing, if only for a moment, the Duke of Bordeaux and his
sister. The two children, vexed at having to leave their play, were not
communicative, and nevertheless received an avalanche of compliments.
The visitors were in ecstasy over their gentleness, their beauty. They
admired even their hair. These exaggerations embarrassed the children,
who were full of frankness and directness, and displeased Madame de
Gontaut. She quickly closed the interview. As the visitors were going
out, a half-open door allowed the little Prince and Princess to
overhear their observations. "It was not worth while to come so far to
see so little," said an old lady, in an irritated tone. "Oh, as to
that, no," said a big boy, "they hardly had two words of response for
all the compliments that papa and mamma strained themselves to give
them. You made me laugh, papa, when you said, 'What fine color, what
pretty hair!' She's as pale as an egg and cropped like a boy."--"That's
true," said the old lady, "she needs your medicines, doctor; and then
they are very small for their age."--"Did you see the governess?"
resumed the big boy. "She did not seem pleased when you complimented
her on the docility of her pupils, and I could see that they were
teasing each other." The Duke of Bordeaux and his sister, who heard all
this, were petrified. "They are very wicked!" they cried. "They are
simply flatterers," replied Madame de Gontaut. Little Mademoiselle
resumed: "After having praised us without end, and telling us a hundred
times that we were pretty,--for I heard it all perfectly,--to want to
give me medicine because I was so homely and ill-looking! Oh, this is
too much! I know now what flattery is,--to say just the contrary of the
truth. But it's a sin. I shall always remember it!"
Madame de Gontaut succeeded beyond her hopes in the task confided to
her. Morally and physically the little Prince and Princess were
accomplished children.
The moment was approaching when the Duke of Bordeaux, born September
20, 1820, was about to begin his seventh year. That was the period
fixed by the ancient code of the House of France for the young Prince
to pass from the hands of women to those of men, who were thereafter to
direct his education. On the 15th of October, 1826, the transfer was
made of the Duke of Bordeaux to his governor, the Duke de Riviere, at
the Chateau of Saint Cloud, in the Hall of the Throne, in the presence
of all the members of the family, the first officers of the crown, etc.
The child, brought by his governess before the King, was stripped of
his clothing and examined by the physicians, who attested his perfect
health. When he was clad again, the King called the new governor and
said to him: "Duke de Riviere, I give you a great proof of my esteem
and confidence in remitting to you the care of the child given us by
Providence--the Child of France also. You will bring to these important
functions, I am sure, a zeal and a prudence that will give you the
right to my gratitude, to that of the family, and to that of France."
Charles X. then turned to Madame de Gontaut, whom he had just named
Duchess in witness of his gratitude and satisfaction. "Duchess of
Gontaut," he said, "I thank you for the care you have given to the
education of this dear child." Then, pointing to Mademoiselle,
"Continue and complete that of this child, who is just as dear to me,
and you will acquire new claims on my gratitude." The little Princess
then seized the hands of her governess with such effusion that the
latter could hardly restrain her tears.
That evening the Duchess of Gontaut addressed to the Duke de Riviere a
letter in which she depicted the character of the child she had brought
up with such care:--
"I have always followed the impulses of my heart," she wrote, "in
easily performing a task for which that was all that was needed.
Monseigneur and Mademoiselle believe me blindly, for I have never
deceived them, even in jest. A pleasantry that a child's mind cannot
understand embarrasses him, destroys his ease and confidence,
humiliates and even angers him, if he believes that he has been
deceived. Monseigneur has more need than most children of this
discretion. The directness and generosity of his character incline him
to take everything seriously. When he thinks he sees that any one is
being annoyed, the one oppressed straightway becomes the object of his
lively interest; he will take up his defence warmly and will not spare
his rebukes; he shows on these occasions an energy quite in contrast
with the natural timidity of his character. With such a child, I have
had to avoid even the shadow of injustice. He loves Mademoiselle, is
gentle, kind, attentive to her. I have always carefully shunned for
Their Royal Highnesses the little contests of childhood; however
unimportant they may seem at first, they end by embittering the
disposition."
We commend to mothers and teachers the letter of the Duchess of
Gontaut. It is a veritable programme of education, conceived with high
intelligence and great practical sense. What more just than this
reflection: "The method of teaching by amusement is fashionable, and
appears to me to lead to a very superficial education. That is not what
I have sought. Let the teacher explain readily, but let him allow the
pupil to take some pains, for he must learn early the difficulties of
life and how to overcome them. A child prince, exposed to flattery,
runs the risk of thinking himself a prodigy. To obviate this
Monseigneur and Mademoiselle have often been subjected to little
competitions with children of their age. I have sought by this means to
give them the habit of witnessing success without envy, and to gain it
without vanity." And what a fine and noble thing is this. "I have tried
on all occasions to lead the mind of Monseigneur to the moral teaching
of religion; I have used it as a restraint; I have presented it as a
hope."