lovely face, Which she is powerless to repeat.
Madame de la Vallière’s sister was the Comtesse de Toulouse.
[35] Mademoiselle (Louise-Adelaide de Bourbon-Condé), born on the 5th
of October 1757, was the daughter of Louis-Joseph de Bourbon, Prince
de Condé, and of Charlotte-Godefriede-Elizabeth de Rohan-Soubise. She
became Abbess of Remiremont in 1786.
[36] Louise-Marie-Thérèse-Bathilde d’Orléans, sister-in-law of
Mademoiselle, was the daughter of the Duc Louis-Philippe d’Orléans and
of Louise-Henrietta de Bourbon-Condé. She married, 14th April 1770,
Louis-Henri-Joseph, Duc de Bourbon-Condé, born 14th April 1756, and
brother to the above-mentioned Mademoiselle. The Duchesse de Bourbon
was mother of the unfortunate Duc d’Enghien, shot under the first
Empire. Her husband, passionately in love with her, obtained permission
to marry her at fifteen years of age, but they were separated after the
ceremony. Furious at this, the young prince carried her off.
[37] M. and Madame de la Vaupalière were very agreeable; she had much
native grace and simplicity, and her affable and equal character
made her generally beloved. M. de la Vaupalière was, unfortunately,
a gambler, and nothing could cure him of this passion. At that time
a small sort of case was invented, of a novel and convenient shape,
for holding slips and counters. Madame de la Vaupalière had one made,
of the richest and most beautiful workmanship, which she sent to her
husband. On one side was her portrait and on the other that of her
children, with these words: “_Songez à nous_” (think of us).
[38] The hotel du Châtelet, which was just finished, was situated in
the Rue de Grenelle, Faubourg Saint Germain, near the city gates. It
was a magnificent building, and the interior arrangements and richness
of the apartments corresponded with the beauty of the exterior.
The Marquise, afterwards Duchesse du Châtelet, was the daughter-in-law
of the celebrated _Emilie_ of Voltaire.
[39] The Duchesse de Mortemart resided with her sons at their beautiful
house of the Rue Saint Guillaume, her daughter being educated at the
Abbaye-aux-Bois. The mansion still exists, and bears the number 14 of
the Rue Saint Guillaume.
[40] Daughter of M. de Chaponay, who had been implicated in Lally’s
trial, and was his aide-de-camp. M. de Chaponay was severely censured
by the Court of Parliament. When summoned by name and declared
infamous, he had the courage to refuse to kneel, and replied: “I see
nothing infamous except your judgment!” The Court deliberated as to
whether he should be imprisoned for making such a bold answer, but they
dared not do so.
[41] Great-niece of the Cardinal de la Roche Aymon, Grand Almoner to
the King.
[42] We have found in the records of the Council, at Geneva, an account
of the arrival of the Princesse de Montmorency and her daughter; the
authorisation given them “to harness their horses at night in order to
send for the doctor or apothecary,” and various other details, which
confirm Hélène’s narrative.
[43] Prince de Lambesc, grand equerry of France, son of the Comte de
Brionne, of the house of Lorraine, and of the Comtesse de Brionne, born
Rohan-Rochefort. He was colonel of the regiment called “De Lorraine.”
When, on the 12th July 1789, the populace, uttering seditious cries,
and carrying the busts of Necker and of the Duc d’Orléans round the
Place Vendôme, was dispersed by the Prince’s dragoons, they fled into
the Tuilerie gardens; but the Prince, sword in hand, pursued them and
forced them to leave. He died at Vienna in 1825.
[44] The Val d’Ajonc was a valley situated in Lorraine, and at this
period was inhabited by a family who enjoyed a wonderful reputation as
bone-setters. They took the name of the valley they inhabited. It is
said that they were so hated by the surgeons that they had always to be
accompanied and protected by armed force.
[45] We have been unable to discover the name of this doctor. In all
probability he was simply a bone-setter, or rubber, from the hills of
Vuache, such as still exist in Savoy, and who are often consulted at
Geneva.
[46] The Princesse de Montmorency, beside herself with grief, left
suddenly, and on her return to the Château de Sénozan, wrote to the
“Magnificent Council” of Geneva to thank them for the funeral honours
accorded to her daughter:--
“GENTLEMEN--M. des Chênes has arrived and informed me of the
many courtesies the Magnificent Council have shown him, as my
representative, and the honours they have bestowed on my daughter. If
anything could alleviate my grief, it would be the manner in which they
have taken part in my affliction. Your attentions during her illness
had already greatly touched me, but all that you have done under these
circumstances has engraved in my heart the most vivid and sincere
gratitude.
“Receive, gentlemen, I pray, my best assurances thereof, and be fully
persuaded of the perfect and inviolable attachment with which I have
the honour to be, sirs, your very humble and obedient servant,
MONTMORENCY.”
(Geneva, Records of the Magnificent Council, February 1775.)
[47] Sixteen hundred pounds.
IV
Moles and niggers--Mutiny in the Convent--Marriage of Mademoiselle de
Bourbonne--The first communion.
“About this time Dom Rigoley de Juvigny having come to confess a nun,
happened to be in the cloisters at the moment when the class was
leaving Mass, so that he was seen by all the pupils, and was the butt
of all their jokes.
“If it had been Dom Thémines, our own confessor, we should not have
allowed ourselves all these jokes, but we thought it of no consequence
when it was the nuns’ confessor. So one said one thing, one another.
“There was then in the red class a mistress we could not endure,
called Madame de Saint Jérôme. As her complexion was very dark, and
Dom Rigoley’s also, some of us declared that if they were married
their offspring would be moles and little niggers. Although it was very
silly, this joke became so much the fashion that in the whole class we
talked of nothing but moles and little niggers; and when we quarrelled
we said to each other: ‘Do you take me for a mole, or for a little
nigger?’
“However, as it was chiefly in our class (the white one) that this joke
had been made, and as some of us were in the midst of our devotions
preparing for the approaching first communion, we reproached ourselves
very much for this joke. So we determined to confess it; but as about
thirty of us were guilty, we wrote a letter in which we said we had
sinned against modesty and charity by saying that if Dom Rigoley
married Madame de Saint Jérôme, moles and little niggers would be the
result; and we sent the letter to Dom Thémines. This became known all
through the establishment, and was much laughed at; but Madame de Saint
Jérôme took a great aversion to the white class. But then, there was
not a single pupil whom she liked or who liked her.
“This worried and vexed Madame de Rochechouart, who said that she had
already for some time past begged that new elections should be held,
and that Madame de Saint Jérôme should be deprived of her place, since
she was not fit for it. For, during the six months she had occupied
that post she had succeeded in making herself universally hated,
without being feared by her pupils, since even the blue class amused
itself by covering her with ridicule. That she was made the subject
of all the satires, songs, and lampoons that were stuck up in All
Souls’ cloisters, that she had not the necessary coolness to deal
with children, and that when she inflicted punishments she always did
so when beside herself with anger. The Lady Abbess told Madame de
Rochechouart that it was impossible for her to attend to this, and that
she must speak to the Mother Prioress about it. The Prioress said they
would have to hold a general Chapter meeting, and that it was not worth
while calling one together for that purpose; as one was going to be
held shortly, it would then be possible to make a change in the school.
Then Madame de Rochechouart became very angry, and said she could
not answer for the disturbances that such a hot-headed person might
occasion amongst a hundred and sixty pupils. As ill luck would have it,
rumours of this dispute reached our ears, and we heard that Madame de
Saint Jérôme continued in the schoolroom against the wish of Madame _la
Maîtresse Générale_.
“A short time after the Chapter assembled; but Madame de Rochechouart
could not be present at it, as she had a cold. The other mistresses
had not the courage to propose to the Chapter the removal of Madame
de Saint Jérôme, so that she remained in the schoolroom. Madame de
Rochechouart was extremely vexed at this. Then the pupils, with
Mesdemoiselles de Mortemart, de Choiseul, de Chauvigny, de Conflans
and myself at their head, resolved to seize the first opportunity of
perpetrating some grand stroke which would oblige her to leave the
class.”
While waiting to execute their plans, the leaders of the conspiracy,
acting with prudence, wished to satisfy themselves as to the number
of their followers. Hélène relates this with all the solemnity of a
politician:--
“We called together a meeting of five or six pupils of each class, and
it was agreed that those who did not like Madame de Saint Jérôme, and
who were determined to do everything they could to have her removed,
should wear green; that is, either a leaf, or a bit of weed, or a
ribbon, in fact something green; that each of those who were present
at this meeting should make her friends in her class wear green, and
that in order to be able to recognise each other and avoid explanations
which might be over-heard when we met, we would say ‘Je vous prends
sans vert.’ (I catch you unawares.) That then we would show the colour,
and those who had not got it would be considered as not belonging to
the mutinous party; and that as it was very possible that either from
timidity or other reasons some of the pupils would change their minds,
those persons should then be obliged to leave off wearing the green; so
that in this way there would be no mistake as to who belonged to the
league.”
An opportunity soon occurred for putting these fine plans into
execution.
“One holiday, on the eve of Saint Magdalene, who was the patron saint
of the Lady Abbess, all the pupils had left their departments to come
and play in the schoolroom. As we already had had recreation for two
days, all the mistresses were tired out; so they had agreed, in order
to have some rest, to remain only one at a time in the schoolroom.
About four o’clock Madame de Saint Jérôme’s turn came, and we took
it into our heads not to do a single thing she should tell us. All of
a sudden the little de Lastic[48] and the little de Saint Simon girls
began quarrelling, and ended by coming to fisticuffs. Madame de Saint
Jérôme went up to separate them, and without knowing who was right
or wrong, she took Mademoiselle de Lastic by the arm, and tried to
make her go down on her knees. Mademoiselle de Lastic said: ‘Madame,
I assure you, it was not I who began.’ Thereupon Madame de Saint
Jérôme flew into a dreadful rage, seized Mademoiselle de Lastic by
the neck, and threw her down so violently that she fell on her nose,
which began to bleed. When we saw the blood we gathered round her, and
swore that not only we should not allow her to be punished, but that
we would throw Madame de Saint Jérôme out of the window, because she
had murdered one of us. Madame de Saint Jérôme was so frightened at
our screams, and the noise we made, that she quite lost her head. She
was afraid of some violence, seeing how excited we were. She therefore
resolved to retreat, saying she would go and complain to Madame de
Rochechouart. It was a great mistake on her part to leave the class at
such a moment without a mistress. Mortemart[49] got on the table and
said: ‘Let all those who have green show it.’ Then every one did so,
and those who had none begged the others to give them some. On seeing
that our party was so strong, Mortemart said we must withdraw from the
schoolroom, and return only under conditions both advantageous and
honourable. It was decided to go through the garden, secure the kitchen
and larders, and reduce the ladies by famine.
“We therefore crossed the garden, and went to the building containing
the kitchens. This building had only one floor; on which were the
storerooms, the larders, and the bakery. The kitchens were underground.
We first entered the storeroom, where we only found Madame Saint
Isidore and Sister Martha. We very politely begged them to leave, and
they were so frightened on seeing us that they went away at once. The
larders and the bakery being shut up, we proposed to burst them open;
then we went down into the kitchens, after having left one of our party
in the storeroom. We were rather astonished to find a number of people
in the kitchens, amongst others one of the schoolmistresses, Madame
de Saint Antoine, for whom we had great respect. She asked us what we
wanted: Mademoiselle de Mortemart replied that we had fled from the
schoolroom because Madame de Saint Jérôme had broken the head of one of
the pupils. Startled at this piece of news, she did not know what to
say; she, however, tried to induce us to return, but we told her it was
useless. Then she left us and ran to the schoolroom to verify it all.
Madame de Saint Amélie, head of the kitchen department, tried to turn
us out, but we turned her out. As for Madame de Saint Sulpice, who was
sixteen years old, she wanted to leave, but we would not allow her; we
told her that we should keep her as a witness that we did not waste the
provisions of the establishment. We wanted to turn out the lay sisters,
but Madame de Saint Sulpice having represented to us that in that case
we should have no supper, we kept Sister Clothilde. Then we bolted the
doors opening into the refectory, and left those on the gardens open;
but about thirty of the pupils remained to guard them. We then resolved
to capitulate, and these were our terms:--
“‘_The United Scholars of the Three Classes of the Abbaye-aux-Bois, to
Madame de Rochechouart, Maîtresse Générale._
“‘We entreat your forgiveness, Madame, for the measures that we have
taken; but the cruelty and incapacity of Madame de Saint Jérôme
forced them upon us. We request a general amnesty for the past,
that Madame de Saint Jérôme shall not put her foot again inside the
schoolroom, and that we have eight days’ recreation, to rest our
bodies and minds after the fatigues we have undergone. As soon as we
shall have obtained justice, we will return and submit ourselves to
whatever it may please you to dictate.
“‘We have the honour to remain, with the deepest respect and tenderest
attachment, Madame, etc.
“‘_P.S._--We send two of our party as bearers of this petition. If
they are not sent back to us, we shall consider it a sign that you do
not choose to treat with us: in which case we shall go in open force
to fetch Madame de Saint Jérôme and whip her round the four corners of
the Convent.’
“Mademoiselle de Choiseul offered to carry the letter, and I consented
to accompany her. When we came to the end of the garden we saw a
numerous assembly of nuns and sisters, brought thither by curiosity, to
see what the pupils would do. But none of them dared to approach the
building. When they saw us they came up to us, saying: ‘Well, what are
the rebels about?’ We answered that we were taking their proposals to
Madame de Rochechouart.
“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.’
“Then I said to Madame de Sainte Delphine: ‘Mademoiselle de Choiseul
and I have something to tell Madame de Rochechouart, but she has not
obtained permission to come; if you would be so kind as to send for
her, by Sister Leonard, saying that Madame de Rochechouart asks for
her, it would not be a lie, as it is also your name.’ She consented,
and shortly after Madame de Rochechouart came in.
“Mademoiselle de Choiseul arrived at the same moment, and we told
Madame de Rochechouart what had taken place. She appeared most
indignant. ‘And who said such a thing?’ she inquired. We absolutely
refused to tell her. Thereupon Madame de Rochechouart, who did not
wish to commit herself with Mademoiselle de Choiseul, said: ‘I have
withdrawn myself from the world, and events of this kind do not reach
us; but tell me which member of your family you wish me to write
to, who may be able to give you some explanations.’ Mademoiselle de
Choiseul named her aunt, the Duchesse de Gramont.[66]
“Madame de Rochechouart accordingly wrote to her: she came the next
day, and Mademoiselle de Choiseul having told her the cause of her
trouble, Madame de Gramont replied: ‘I do not wish to deceive you;
you are now growing up and cannot be left in a state of ignorance
that might lead you to make injudicious remarks. It is quite true
that your mother’s misconduct has obliged her family to place her in
a convent. You have a sister[67] who has been brought up in another
convent, and who is coming to be with you at the Abbaye-aux-Bois. Your
demeanour towards the pupils must be sufficiently authoritative to
prevent any one broaching the subject in future, and above all, have no
confidantes. You can easily imagine that this is not an agreeable topic
of conversation for your father; do not therefore mention it to him,
unless he be the first to speak to you.’
“Mademoiselle de Choiseul asked if she would not be allowed to write
to her mother. Madame de Gramont said that she could not take upon
herself to give her that permission, but that she would speak of it to
her family.
“Mademoiselle de Choiseul came and told me all this, and we agreed that
we would appear to have forgotten what had taken place, and that if the
others referred to it we should show our displeasure.”
Unfortunately, Mademoiselle de Lévis’s cruel gossip was but too
well-founded, and the romantic adventures of Madame de Stainville,
especially the final catastrophe, had created a great scandal.
When the Duc de Choiseul became war minister (at the death of the
Maréchal de Belle-Isle) he had his brother, the Comte Jacques de
Choiseul-Stainville, named lieutenant-general. The Count had no
fortune; his family, wishing to secure for him a brilliant match,
turned their thoughts to Mademoiselle Thérèse de Clermont-Revel, who
was a great heiress, and endowed with a charming presence. The Duke
cleverly conducted the negotiations, and the marriage was decided
upon. The Count was nearly forty years old, his betrothed was only
fifteen, and had never seen her future husband. He obtained leave of
absence, came to Paris, and _six hours after_ his arrival the marriage
was celebrated.[68]
The young Comtesse de Stainville was presented in society by her
sister-in-law, the Duchesse de Choiseul, and created quite a sensation.
She danced like an angel, and shone with grace and beauty. It was
easy to suppose that before long she would receive attentions from
the most fashionable men. Contemporary memoirs even pretend that her
brother-in-law, the Duc de Choiseul, dared to hazard a declaration,
which was badly received. It is said that Lauzun fared better, but
this passing fancy was shortly superseded by another sentiment. It is
well known how actors were then run after in society. Their conquests
were innumerable. At that time Clairval was the actor most in vogue,
and the favourite of all the ladies. He united to undoubted talent
a handsome face, an elegant figure, and a natural audacity which
nothing could check. He was not long in perceiving the impression
that he had made on Madame de Stainville, and determined to risk all
and take advantage of it. A lady’s-maid and a footman were taken into
the secret, and Madame de Stainville even went so far as to receive
Clairval at her own residence.[69]
Some time passed: Madame de Stainville gave birth to a second daughter,
and nothing foreshadowed the scandal that was about to take place; but
the intimacy between Clairval and the Countess was gradually becoming
known; the Duchesse de Gramont was the first to hear of it. She hated
her young sister-in-law, and was not slow to inform her brother of the
rumours which till then he had ignored.
The Count was away on military service with the army, and was to
return to be present at an entertainment in which all Paris was
interested. The Maréchale de Mirepoix was preparing a wonderful fancy
ball at the hôtel de Brancas. National dances were to be performed by
twenty-four gentlemen and by as many ladies, in Chinese and Indian
costumes. These were being rehearsed for the last week. “The guilty and
unfortunate Madame de Stainville,” says Madame du Deffand, “had Prince
d’Hénin for a partner, and was present every day at these rehearsals.
On Tuesday, two days before the ball, all the dancers were entertained
at a supper given by the Duchesse de Valentinois; it was noticed that
Madame de Stainville seemed very dejected and constantly had tears in
her eyes. Her husband had arrived that morning.” On the following day,
Wednesday,[70] at three o’clock in the morning, Madame de Stainville
was carried off in a post-chaise and conducted by her husband in
person to the Convent of the _Filles de Sainte Marie_ at Nancy. The
Count had easily obtained a _lettre de cachet_ through his brother, the
Duke, and his wife was confined for the rest of her life. He returned
her all her fortune, and had a trustee appointed, who was authorised to
give the Countess everything she required, but not a farthing in money.
A sum was devoted to his daughters’ maintenance, and the remainder of
her income put under sequestration for their benefit.
The lady’s-maid was sent to the Salpetrière and the footman to
Bicêtre, as a punishment for having aided in the affair. It was
generally considered that M. de Stainville had inflicted on his wife
a chastisement of unheard-of severity. In those days of easy morality
it was not the custom to consider this sin as an unpardonable offence,
and the beautiful Madame de Stainville excited a universal feeling of
pity. It was even said that the Count’s mistress, a young and charming
actress at the opera, notified to him on his return from Nancy that she
would never see him again, for fear of being taken for an accomplice in
such an iniquitous proceeding.[71]
Some time after this sad revelation, Mademoiselle de Choiseul, very
much agitated, came to Hélène as she was leaving the parlour, and said
to her: “Fancy, they are going to put my sister at the Abbaye-aux-Bois,
and she will arrive next Monday. What distresses me is that she is
simply sent to the dormitory, whilst I have my own apartment. This
difference is certain to make the pupils talk.”
Hélène advised her to say that it had been considered proper to make
this difference on account of her being the eldest.
“She told me she was to go out the next day and make her sister’s
acquaintance, as she had never seen her.
“She went out, accordingly, and as she was late in returning we were
not able to talk together in private. But in the evening she came
into my room, and told me that her sister was four years younger than
herself, and a mere child; that she was rather pretty, but did not
appear very lively, and she thought her ignorant and badly brought
up; that she had made a great deal of her, but that she had appeared
very untamed. She also told me that she was called Mademoiselle de
Stainville. We decided to notice her a great deal, in order that no
unpleasantness should occur when she was received.”
She was brought to the Convent by Madame la Duchesse de Choiseul, who
gave instructions that she should be appealed to for all requirements,
being specially in charge, instead of her father or the Duchesse de
Gramont, as was the case for Mademoiselle de Choiseul. It is evident
that the kindness of the Duchesse de Choiseul did not belie itself, and
that she was determined to act the part of a mother to the forsaken
child, whom every one seemed to repel.[72]
“Mademoiselle de Choiseul presented her to the class, saying that she
was her sister, and that she begged every one to behave kindly towards
her. Then Mesdemoiselles de Conflans, Mademoiselle de Damas, and
myself, went up to her, and made a great deal of her, but she was very
shy, and received us very coldly.
“As soon as she had made some acquaintances, Choiseul left her, and
never became very intimate with her, for there was a great difference
between the two sisters.
“When the Duc de Choiseul, Madame de Stainville, and Madame la Duchesse
de Gramont came to see Mademoiselle de Choiseul, they never asked for
Mademoiselle de Stainville; but Mademoiselle de Choiseul insisted,
and said she would not go down to the parlour if her sister was not
also asked for; so they were obliged to see Mademoiselle de Stainville.
It was the same thing about going out. Mademoiselle de Choiseul would
never go by herself to the hôtel de Choiseul;[73] and all this was from
a generous and kindly feeling, as she did not care for her sister,
but she would not allow herself any distinction which might be to her
disadvantage.”
Mademoiselle de Choiseul’s generous conduct under these circumstances
proves a nobility of character most uncommon in a child of fourteen.
No doubt the exalted opinion these young girls had of their rank and
their birth contributed to develop sentiments of honour and refinement:
they practised the axiom _noblesse oblige_ to the full extent, and
to say that they had a base mind was to them the bitterest reproach.
But, at the same time, it must be acknowledged that they had the
greatest contempt for any one who did not belong to their caste. Hélène
expresses herself on this point in the most ingenuous manner.
“At one time,” she tells us, “there was a breach in the walls of the
Convent, while the garden wall was being rebuilt. It is the custom,
whenever there is a breach in the enclosure, for the rules of seclusion
to be set aside for as long a time as the breach lasts. This wall
separated the Convent on one side from the street, whilst on the other
side lay the Convent of the _Petites Cordelierès_, so that now, there
being a way open, the nuns were able to visit each other.
“The Convent of the _Petites Cordelierès_ was neither as large nor
as fine a building as ours. They only received about thirty pupils,
but they were not young ladies of good birth, and they were very much
embarrassed when they saw our numerous classes entirely composed of the
daughters of the best families of France.
“At that time, on returning to the Convent one evening, Mademoiselle de
Choiseul said she had a great event to tell me. She said she was going
to marry the son of M. de Choiseul-La-Baume, who was only seventeen
years old,[74] that he was very nice, that she would become the
Duchesse de Choiseul-Stainville, and that the next day her family were
coming to inform Madame de Rochechouart and the Lady Abbess of the
match, and she begged me to accompany her on her visits.”
It was a time-honoured custom at the Abbaye-aux-Bois for the young
girls personally to inform their companions of their marriage, and on
this important occasion the betrothed was accompanied by her greatest
friend. Hélène, delighted at playing such an important part, prepared
herself to escort Mademoiselle de Choiseul with due solemnity the
following afternoon.
“The next day, accordingly, in the morning, the Duc and Duchesse de
Choiseul, Madame de Gramont, and M. de Stainville came to the Lady
Abbess’s parlour, and Madame de Rochechouart also came. They said
that the settlements were to be signed at Versailles on the following
Sunday; that on Monday the family and friends would sign them; that
on Tuesday Mademoiselle de Choiseul would receive her wedding-gifts;
and that on Wednesday she would leave for Chanteloup,[75] where the
marriage ceremony would take place; and that two days after she would
be brought back to the Abbaye-aux-Bois, as she was only fourteen
years of age. Directly her family had left I went with Mademoiselle
de Choiseul all through the establishment, in order to announce her
marriage. On Monday, the day on which the contract was signed, the
whole class were looking out of the windows to see M. de Choiseul
arrive, and he appeared to us very good-looking. All Paris was at the
signing of the settlements. On leaving the parlour, Mademoiselle de
Choiseul came to the window where the other pupils were, and M. de
Choiseul on seeing her made her a low bow, which delighted us. She told
us that her mother-in-law appeared very strict, and that it was said
she was most difficult to get on with. The next day she received a
magnificent wedding-casket, bought at Mademoiselle Bertin’s, a case of
beautiful diamonds, jewels in blue enamelling, and a purse containing
two hundred louis.[76]
“On the day of her departure Madame de Rochechouart allowed me to
go out and breakfast with Madame la Duchesse de Gramont. Madame de
Clermont brought me back.
“Mademoiselle de Choiseul gave me a keepsake made of gold and
ornamented with hair, a bag, and a fan. She distributed forty bags and
forty fans among the pupils.
“It had been proposed that her sister should not go to Chanteloup, but
Mademoiselle de Choiseul complained so bitterly that Madame la Duchesse
consented at last to take her. She gave her sister a beautiful diamond
locket, and M. de Choiseul gave her a keepsake also mounted in diamonds.
“Mademoiselle de Choiseul, whom I shall call Madame for the future,
came back at the end of a fortnight. She told me all about the
festivities given in her honour, but added that her mother-in-law had
not let a single day pass without scolding her; as for her husband, she
said she was madly in love with him, that he was lively and amusing,
and that although they had never been left alone together he had
managed to say a great many things to her, but that she had scruples
about repeating them to me.”
An event took place at this time which created a great impression on
the young pupils at the Abbaye-aux-Bois. They were accustomed to be
present at the ceremony of taking the veil, which was rather a frequent
occurrence in the Convent. It seemed quite natural to them, and did not
excite any painful emotion. This time, however, it was different.
“There had been for two years at the novitiate a young lady called
Mademoiselle de Rastignac, who was twenty years of age. She appeared
absorbed in the deepest melancholy, was constantly ill, and spent most
of her time in the infirmary. She had already adopted the nun’s habit;
and twice had been on the point of pronouncing her vows, but each time
she fell ill, and the ceremony had to be put off. Her director, Dom
Thémines, urged the indefinite postponement of her vows, and it was
rumoured that she was being made a nun against her will. Once we spoke
to Madame de Rochechouart about it, and she replied that she did not
interfere in any way with the novices; but that if she thought she was
being made to embrace a monastic life against her will she would not
give her vote. Two or three times she was sent back to her family, so
as to bring her once more into contact with the world, but in vain. At
last a day was fixed for the final ceremony to take place, and it was
said that although she was very ill, and could hardly stand, she wished
to pronounce her vows.
“On the day of her initiation all the Hauteforts in the world filled
the church, for she was their near relative. Mademoiselle de Guignes
carried the wax taper and acted as her godmother; the Comte d’Hautefort
was her squire. She was very pretty. First she went to the outer
church and knelt down on a praying chair. Her dress was white crape,
embroidered with silver and covered with diamonds. She bore up very
well during the address from the Abbé de Marolle, in which he told her
it was a great merit in the sight of God to renounce the world, when
one was made to be loved and be the charm and ornament of society. It
seemed as if he took pleasure in painting a glowing picture of all that
she was going to give up; but she bore it with a firm countenance.
“After the address the Comte d’Hautefort took her hand and led her to
the cloister door. As soon as she had entered it was closed upon her
with a great crash--it is a way they have on these occasions. We all
remarked that she turned very pale. She entered the court more dead
than alive. It was said that she was ill, but it seemed to us as if her
mind suffered more than her body. When she reached the choir gates they
were closed, while she was undressed and her worldly ornaments taken
from her. She had long fair hair; when it was let down we were all
on the point of crying out to prevent its being cut off, and all the
pupils exclaimed under their breath, ‘What a pity!’ At the moment when
the mistress of the novices put her scissors to it she gave a start.
They laid her hair on a large silver platter; it was lovely. Then they
clothed her in the dress of the order, put on the veil, and a wreath of
white roses, after which the grating was opened, and she was presented
to the priest, who blessed her.
“An arm-chair was then placed near the grating for the Lady Abbess, who
seated herself, with her cross-bearer and her chaplain on either side.
Mademoiselle de Rastignac knelt down before her, and put her hands
in hers. The formula used on taking the vows is as follows: ‘I take
the vow before God, and at your hands, Madame, of poverty, humility,
obedience, chastity, and perpetual reclusion, according to the rule of
Saint Benoit, as observed by Saint Bernard, in the order of Cîteaux and
the affiliation of Clairvaux.’ She was so weak that she could hardly
support herself on her knees. The mistresses of the novices, Madame de
Saint Vincent and Madame Saint Guillaume, were behind her. She seemed
to have a veil over her eyes, and hardly to know where she was; Madame
de Saint Vincent said the words of the vow, and she repeated them after
her. When she had pronounced the vow of obedience and came to the vow
of chastity, she made so long a pause that all the pupils, who till
then had been crying, could hardly refrain from laughing. She looked on
every side, as if for help, so at last the mistress approached her and
said: ‘Come, take courage, my child; accomplish your sacrifice!’ She
gave a deep sigh at the words ‘of chastity and perpetual reclusion,’
and at the same moment her head drooped on the knees of the Lady
Abbess. It was seen that she had fainted, and she was taken to the
sacristy.
“It is the custom that, after pronouncing her vows, she should go and
kiss the knees of all the nuns, and embrace the pupils. But it was said
she was not well enough, and that she would only come and prostrate
herself in the centre of the choir. Nothing has ever affected me more
than seeing her appear at the door of the sacristy, pale as death,
her eyes dim, and supported by two nuns. Mademoiselle de Guignes, who
carried her taper, was trembling so violently that she could scarcely
walk. Madame Sainte Madeleine, for that was the name Mademoiselle de
Rastignac had taken, advanced to the centre of the choir, where they
helped her to prostrate herself. She was covered with the pall; the
_Miserere_ of La Lande was sung. We also sang it, as well as the _Dies
Iræ_ and the _Libera_ of the _Cordeliers_, which is beautiful. It
took altogether an hour and a half, as the prayers for the dead were
said over her, to remind her that she was dead to the world. The same
evening she had an attack of fever, and was taken to the infirmary,
where she remained for six weeks. When she left it she was appointed to
the refectory, but she has not recovered her health. She remains in a
state of languor which causes everybody to take an interest in her, and
each one seeks to cheer her, trying to make her life as agreeable as
possible.”
FOOTNOTES:
[64] The Marquis de Lévis, her father, lieutenant-general in the king’s
army, had married Mademoiselle de la Reynière, daughter of the rich
_fermier général_ and of Mademoiselle de Jarente de la Brière.
[65] Jacques de Choiseul, Comte de Stainville, youngest brother of the
Duc de Choiseul. He became a Marshal of France, and died in 1789.
[66] Beatrix de Choiseul-Stainville, born at Lunéville in 1730. She
was Canoness of Remiremont, and had no other income but that derived
from her prebendary. She was ambitious, and united to a stern and hard
character a masculine intellect, capable of grappling with affairs
and intrigues. She soon formed the project of ruling her brother, but
for this purpose a great name and a large fortune were indispensable;
moreover the man who would bring her these advantages was bound to be
a mere cipher, in order not to overshadow the Duc de Choiseul. She
found all these requisites united in the person of the Duc de Gramont,
whom she married the 16th of August 1759. The Duchesse de Gramont’s
influence over her brother became absolute, to the great despair of the
Duchesse de Choiseul, who was devoted to her husband, and found herself
supplanted by her domineering sister-in-law.
[67] Thérèse Félicité de Choiseul-Stainville, born in 1767, married in
1782 the Prince Grimaldi-Monaco. From contemporary accounts she appears
to have been pretty, and endowed with a captivating personality. She
was guillotined in 1793.
[68] The 3d April 1761.
[69] She had left the Choiseul family mansion, and was living at No. 7
Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré.
[70] The 31st January 1767.
[71] The time came, however, when, thanks to the efforts of the
Duchesse de Choiseul, Madame de Stainville’s home was again opened to
her; but she refused to return, and died in the Convent, in great piety.
[72] M. Durfort de Cheverny, in his _Memoirs_, says that the Duc de
Choiseul having severely reprimanded his sister-in-law on account of
her intimacy with Clairval, the Countess had solemnly declared that
the child she had just given birth to was a legitimate daughter of the
Count. (See the _Memoirs of the Comte Durfort de Cheverny_. Paris,
1886.)
[73] The family mansion of the Choiseuls was at No. 3 Rue de la Grange
Batelière, and occupied the site of the former Opera House. The gardens
and outer buildings extended as far as the Rue Neuve Saint Augustin;
the Opera Comique (burnt down in May 1887) was built on land belonging
to the Duc de Choiseul. We can hardly realise at present the size and
importance of the hôtels of the eighteenth century, many of which were
regular palaces. The little hôtel of Madame de Gramont was next to her
brother’s.
[74] Claude-Antoine-Gabriel de Choiseul-La-Baume, born on the 24th
August 1760, was a son of the Marquis de Choiseul-Beaupré and
Diane-Gabrielle de la Baume de Montrevel. He was brought up at
Chanteloup, under the personal supervision of the Duc de Choiseul, his
education having been begun by the Abbé Barthélemy. After the death
of the Duc de Choiseul, who left no children, he inherited the title
and peerage of that minister, in consequence of his marriage with his
niece. The young Duke later on became governor of the Palace of the
Louvre. He took an active share in the King’s flight to Varennes, and
died in 1838.
[75] The ceremony took place on the 10th October 1778. The young
Duchesse de Choiseul had two children: Etienne de Choiseul, a very
distinguished young man, aide-de-camp to General Berthier, who was
killed in the campaign in 1807, and a daughter, who married the Duc de
Marmier, a peer of France.
[76] One hundred and sixty pounds.
VIII
Madame d’Orléans, Abbess of Chelles--A visit from the Archbishop--The
Jansenist nuns--The dispensary--Madame de Rochechouart’s fête day--Her
illness and death.