Chapter IV: Part I: The Abbaye-Aux Bois (2)

Madame de Rochechouart, a woman of sound judgment and noble mind, soon became very tenderly attached to the little Pole. The child, almost abandoned, so far from her own country, inspired her with real interest. Each day she had her brought to her cell, and without the child being aware of it, watched her carefully. Hélène, who was like a wild colt, felt a respect and at the same time a sort of fear mingled with the greatest admiration for the _Grande Maîtresse Générale_. She constantly mentions her in her _Memoirs_.

Madame de Rochechouart, sister of the late Duc de Mortemart, was twenty-seven years of age: “Tall, a handsome figure, a pretty foot, hands delicate and white, splendid teeth, large black eyes, a proud and grave look, and a betwitching smile.” Such is the portrait the little Princess has left us of her. She was undoubtedly, after the Lady Abbess, the most important person in the Abbey, and directed as she chose the studies and education of the pupils. It was thus that she filled up the often tedious hours of a life and calling she had not chosen. Madame de Rochechouart had two sisters who were beautiful and witty, like all the Mortemarts. All three went through their novitiate when hardly fifteen years old; for, according to the cruel custom of those times, their fortunes went entirely to the inheritor of the family name. They pronounced their vows three years after.

“I stood in great fear of Madame de Rochechouart in those days,” says Hélène. “When she came to the classroom in the morning and went the rounds, if by chance she spoke to me, I immediately became embarrassed and had trouble to collect myself sufficiently to reply. Indeed, it may be said that the whole class trembled before her, so that when she came in of a morning, and we were all returning in confusion from breakfast, she would clap her hands and every one would run to her stall, and one might have heard a fly. When we made our curtsey to her on entering the choir, I tried to read in her eyes, and if I thought her look severe I was in despair. I had got the habit of tearing at full speed through the house; but when I met Madame de Rochechouart, I stopped dead short. Then, when she looked at me, as her customary gaze is naturally severe, I fancied I had displeased her, and returned to the schoolroom quite disheartened, saying: ‘Ah! Madame de Rochechouart has made big eyes at me.’ The others replied: ‘How silly you are, do you expect her to make her eyes smaller when she meets you?’ This was told to Madame de Rochechouart. The next time she saw me she called me, and laughingly asked me if she was looking at me the way I liked, and if her eyes were still very alarming. I answered that I thought them so beautiful that they gave more pleasure than fear; and she kissed me. She commands the love and respect of all the pupils, and though a little severe, is very just. We are all devoted to her, and yet fear her. She is not demonstrative, but a word from her has a most wonderful effect. She is accused of being proud and satirical to equals; but she is gracious and kind to her inferiors; very well informed and highly gifted.”

FOOTNOTES:

[17] Hélène began her _Memoirs_ in 1773; she was then ten years old.

[18] The private apartments of the Lady Abbess are so called.

[19] Small pin-cushions in the shape of bellows.

[20] A thick round box with pin-cushion top.

[21] Twenty pounds.

[22] Children from five to seven years of age did not attend school; but there was a considerable number of them at the Abbaye-aux-Bois, under the care of the younger nuns.

[23] The _Catéchisme de Montpellier_ was a Jansenist catechism; its doctrines were openly proclaimed by the ladies of the Abbaye-aux-Bois.

[24] Baron Antoine Portal, consulting physician to Louis XV. and the successive sovereigns until Charles X., was Professor of Anatomy at the Museum, President of the Academy of Medicine, and a friend of Buffon and Franklin. His long career was devoted to remarkable works. By command of the Academy of Sciences he drew up a report in 1774, on the effects of noxious fumes, amongst others, of coal, on man. This small work was reprinted several times, and translated into four languages at the expense of the Academy; although the least important, it is best known of all his works. He died in 1832, aged eighty-seven.

[25] About three pounds.

[26] Twelve hundred pounds. We must not lose sight of the fact that at the Abbaye-aux-Bois the education was exclusively devoted to forming future “great ladies,” and differed entirely from that of the middle class.

[27] _Privilège du Roi_, a preface authorising the publication of a work, granted in the king’s name.

III

The story of the Vicar of Saint Eustache--Hélène in the white class--Death of Mademoiselle de Montmorency.

Hélène had taken the greatest aversion to Mother Quatre Temps and her punishments. The more so that, thanks to her, she had been twice delayed from promotion into the white class, not being considered worthy of preparation for her first communion.

“I was only consoled,” she says, “when it was the hour of Mother Sainte Bathilde’s superintendence, for she knew so many stories that I was extremely amused by them.

“She was very fond of me, for I was always the most attentive listener directly she began relating her stories. I remembered every word she said, so that when she left us I was able to repeat her stories, without omitting even one syllable. The whole blue class knelt around me in order to hear better, and even some of the white young ladies occasionally listened too.

“When I had finished telling Madame de Sainte Bathilde’s stories, I related those of my grandmother, which were endless; for while narrating, I invented all the incidents, and they were most curious.

“No one could have replaced me with Madame de Sainte Bathilde in the attention I gave to the innumerable tales with which she deluged the class, although Madame de Rochechouart had several times requested her to desist telling these foolish stories, which made the pupils credulous and frightened. The temptation was too great; she began again every day. Sometimes she herself had seen things, or else it was some of her friends, till at last she told us a story which nearly caused her dismissal from the class. It was shortly after the death of the Vicar of Saint Eustache, who had been found dead one morning in his church. The Curate of Saint Eustache, by name Mr. Giron, often came to see Madame Sainte Bathilde. The scholars had often seen him crossing the yard, and had noticed that his neck was awry. One day, when we were surrounding Mother Sainte Bathilde in the schoolroom, and she seemed more animated than usual, a pupil told her that from one of the windows of the depository[28] she had seen a priest pass by, going to the tower, and that his neck appeared to be twisted in a very peculiar manner. Madame Sainte Bathilde replied that he was coming to call on her, and was the Curate of Saint Eustache, whose neck had been dislocated by a most extraordinary adventure. We begged her eagerly to relate it. After having assured us that what she was going to relate was truth itself, she began as follows: ‘As we all know, the late Vicar of Saint Eustache rebuilt the front portal of his church, and stood in need of fifteen thousand livres[29] to finish it. He did not know where to obtain the money. So one of his friends advised him to consult a certain M. Etteilla, who had the reputation of performing wonders. The Vicar therefore went to him, and told him that he was in absolute want of fifteen thousand livres; begging him, if possible, to procure that sum. After much pressing M. Etteilla told the Vicar to meet him a little before midnight in the church of Saint Eustache, accompanied by only one person, and that he would see what he could do for him. The Vicar came punctually to the appointed place, bringing with him Mr. Giron, his Curate, whose neck at that time was as straight as yours or mine. When they were all three in the church, M. Etteilla drew a circle around them and told them not to move out of it, in spite of anything they might see; but that very soon they would see near them a most appalling figure, who would inquire what they wanted. In reply they were to ask without hesitation for the sum of money required, and the phantom would present them with a purse, which they must hasten to take. M. Etteilla then began his incantations and closed the circle round the Vicar and the Curate. It was not long before they saw a kind of monster with horns rise out of the ground, who asked them in a voice of thunder: What they desired. The Vicar, terrified, moved out of the circle, and the monster felled him to the ground. He then returned to the circle, within which the Curate had remained, and repeated his question. The Curate asked for the sum of fifteen thousand livres. The monster held it out to him, but in taking it, having advanced his head a little too far, he received a blow which distorted his neck for life. The incantation being over, they went to pick up the Vicar, but found he was dead. They therefore made up their minds to leave the body there, and so left the church.’ The pupils having repeated this story to several people, it came to Madame de Rochechouart’s ears; so she sent for Madame Sainte Bathilde, treated her with a high hand, and told her that when the next Chapter was held, she would have her dismissed from the class.”

It must not be supposed that the belief in magicians was only the hobby of a credulous old nun. On the contrary, it was widespread at that time, and the most intelligent people were not above consulting them. The Duc d’Orléans and even the Prince de Ligne became acquainted with the famous Etteilla. The Prince says, in his unpublished writings, called _Fragments des Mémoires_: ‘I very much regret having paid so little attention to the predictions of the great Etteilla. This magician had just arrived in Paris. I took M. le Duc d’Orléans to see him, Rue Fromenteau, on the fourth floor. He could not be acquainted with either of us. I know that he spoke to him of a throne, of revolutions, of the royal family, of Versailles, of the Devil, but I only remember it all most confusedly. It is a fact that Etteilla described to Madame de Mérode the scene she witnessed a fortnight later: her husband (then in sound health) laid in state, with the description of the room and the people in it; all of which were unknown to him; and that everything happened as he had predicted. He also foretold that she would marry again.’

Etteilla was only the anagram of the sham magician’s real name. He was called Alliette, sold engravings, and styled himself Professor of Algebra in Paris,[30] where in reality he occupied himself with fortune-telling by cards.

“It is customary every year to distribute prizes to the scholars on Saint Catherine’s eve. It is always some married lady of rank who gives them away. The pupils contribute towards the expense of the prizes, each giving one louis. We were then a hundred and sixty-two in number, which made a large sum of money, and was all spent on books. There are three prizes for each class, the prizes being regulated as follows: Three prizes for history and geography, three for dancing, three for music, three for drawing. This year it was Madame la Duchesse de la Vallière who distributed them. I had the first prize for history and the second for dancing. Mademoiselle de Choiseul had the first prize for dancing and the second for history; but the fact was, we were about equal both in history and in dancing, neither M. Huart,[31] M. Dauberval,[32] nor even M. Philippe[33] could manage to decide between us. So, when we went up to receive the prize from the hands of Madame la Duchesse,[34] Madame de Rochechouart told us that as there was only a single first prize, one of us should have it for history and the other for dancing, but that we both deserved them equally.”

This shows how great was the importance attached to accomplishments, since the first prizes for history and dancing were adjudged together. Young as she was, Hélène really danced remarkably well: “At that time,” she says, “I danced the _farlànes_ and _montférines_ (old French dances) most beautifully. Mademoiselle[35] came to our balls, and was so pleased with my dancing that both she and Madame la Duchesse de Bourbon[36] always begged that I should dance the _pas de deux_, and they gave me comfits.”

Madame de Rochechouart knew what pleased her little favourite, and often allowed her to go out during this carnival. “Not a week passed,” she says, “without my going to four or five children’s balls at Madame de la Vaupalière,[37] hotel du Châtelet.[38] At that time they were going to act _Athalie_ at the hotel de Mortemart.[39] One day Madame de Rochechouart made me read aloud the part of Joas, and she was so pleased with the way in which I read it that she spoke of it to her niece, the young Duchesse de Mortemart, who entreated, as a favour, that I should be allowed to act that part at her house, where they were going to perform _Athalie_. They had no one to undertake the part of Joas, Mademoiselle de Mortemart having no talent for tragedy.”

The Dowager Duchesse de Mortemart and the Duchesse d’Harcourt mentioned it to the Abbess, who consented to the little Princess going out three times a week during one month for the rehearsals. Molé was sent for to direct the company. “I was very happy,” Hélène writes, “for I always brought back sweetmeats, and Mademoiselle de Mortemart accompanied me. I went out three days during the performances, and it was thought that I acted better than the child at the Comédie Française. M. Molé recommended me particularly not to declaim at all, but to speak naturally, without gestures, as I would in conversation, and this succeeded very well.”

A curious custom existed at the Abbaye-aux-Bois. On Saint Catherine’s Day, in honour of that saint, the pupils were allowed to assume the dress, occupation, or rank of all the ladies in the Convent, from the Abbess down to the simplest nun. The nominations took place by the majority of votes, and the electoral body, composed of all the pupils, solemnly met the day before in the Chapter-house in order to vote. This year Hélène was elected Abbess, and she relates the ceremony in its minutest details:--

“The Chapter-house was lent us for the elections. I was elected Abbess, and chose Mademoiselle de Choiseul for _régente_; Mademoiselle de Conflans was crosier-bearer, Mademoiselle de Vaudreuil chaplain; Mesdemoiselles de Damas, de Montsauge, de Chauvigny, de Mortemart, and de Poyanne were appointed as my personal attendants. The remainder of the places were given by majority of votes. When this was done, we went to the Lady Abbess, who, according to custom, kissed me, took off her cross, fastened it on me, and put the _abbatial_ ring on my finger. I entered into office the very next morning, and during High Mass, which we sang, I was seated on the Abbess’s throne.

“It had been decorated with the carpet of purple velvet fringed with gold, only used on occasions of great ceremony. I received the incense, and, preceded by the crozier, went to kiss the paten. All the nuns heard Mass and the services from the galleries, and the scholars occupied their stalls. I gave the holy water, and received the public confession of all the pupils. It was very funny to see nuns of five and six years old. A great many ladies came to see us in the choir and in the refectory, where I gave a grand dinner with ices. All the nuns and lady visitors were in the middle of the refectory in order to see us at table. Each of us put on the sedate mien appropriate to the costume she wore. After dinner we took possession of all the different functions, while the nuns, by way of a joke, settled themselves in the schoolrooms. None of us, however, dared to go and see Madame de Rochechouart; she could not endure these masquerades, and had said the day before that she wished to see no one. As for Madame Sainte Delphine, all this amused her intensely, and every one went to see her, each in their turn; the young Duchesse de Mortemart, Madame de Fitz-James, Madame de Bouillon, Madame d’Henin, and the Vicomtesse de Laval spent the afternoon with her. We flocked in troops to see her; first, I went with all my court. We were made to talk and converse; in short, we greatly amused the ladies. But what pleased us most was, that suddenly the door opened and Madame de Rochechouart entered. Then, as we knew she did not like to see us like that, the Lady Abbess and her retinue took to their heels and fled. In the evening we went in state to carry back to the Abbess her cross and her ring, and we doffed our monastical clothes. The same festivities are repeated on Innocents’ Day, and Mademoiselle d’Aumont was Abbess. Concerning the fear we had of displeasing Madame de Rochechouart. Madame Sainte Delphine was in the habit of saying that no Asiatic monarch could be more despotic in his rule than her sister was in hers, and it is true that we had a real worship for her. I must say in her praise that she rather influenced our minds than our persons, for she seldom admonished or punished. We were perfectly convinced it was impossible she could be wrong in anything, and she inspired an unbounded confidence. It is difficult to imagine the extent of the enthusiasm Madame de Rochechouart excited in the schoolroom; our heads were turned with the honour we enjoyed in having such a great lady to preside over our education.

“The other mistresses, who depended on her, were always quoting her name as that of a divinity who punished or rewarded. The Lady Abbess held her in great esteem, for she allowed little intimacy. Those who saw her frequently formed a kind of court around her.

“About that time, my nurse having left a bottle of oil on the chimney-piece, Mademoiselle de Choiseul and I discovered that by rubbing oil on the door it could be opened without any noise. My nurse slept in the room next to mine. She was in the habit of locking the door inside at night, leaving the key in the lock. Mademoiselle de Choiseul’s room opened into mine. She used, therefore, to get up at night and come to my bedside; then we slipped on our dressing-gowns, softly opened the door, and ran about the house all night, amusing ourselves by playing all kinds of pranks; such as blowing out the lamps, knocking at the doors, going and talking to the novices and eating with them preserves, pies, and sweetmeats which we had secretly bought.

“Once we took a bottle of ink and poured it into the basin for holy water at the door of the choir. As the ladies go to Matins two hours after midnight, and know them by heart, there is no other light than that of a lamp, which throws a very faint glimmer on the holy-water vessel. They therefore took the holy water, without perceiving the state in which they put themselves; but as Matins were finishing the day broke, when, seeing each other so strangely marked, they laughed one and all so loud that the service was interrupted. It was suspected that this prank originated in the school, and on the following day a search was made, but its authors were never discovered.

“A few days afterwards we played another trick. The bell-ropes, called ‘The Gondi,’ because they had been blessed by the Archbishop of Paris of that name, are used to ring for the services on working days, and are placed behind the choir, the larger and more important bells being in another belfry above the choir. These ropes pass through a gallery situated behind the Abbess’s throne. We therefore went up into this gallery and tied our handkerchiefs tightly to the bell-ropes. When the novice who had to ring for Matins came, she pulled in vain. She thought she was ringing; but when the rope came to the knots it stopped, and the bells did not move, so that the ladies who were waiting for the first stroke of Matins to come down never came, and the novice was exhausted with ringing. At last some of the nuns, seeing that the hour for Matins was going by, came down to see why no bells were ringing. They found the nun half dead with pulling the ropes. Then, perceiving that something must be wrong with the bells, they went up into the gallery and found the handkerchiefs. Unfortunately our initials were on them, H. M., J. C. They were, therefore, taken to Madame de Rochechouart, who inquired next day when she came into the schoolroom to whom belonged the handkerchiefs marked H. M. and J. C. Then we hung our heads. Madame de Rochechouart ordered us in a severe tone to leave our stalls, so we came to her, trembling all over, and knelt at her feet. She asked us if we imagined these ladies were made to be the butt of our practical jokes; she begged us not to exert our ingenuity in tormenting them, and said that, in order to remember this, we should kneel in our night-caps the following Sunday in the middle of the choir during High Mass, as an apology to the ladies for having amused ourselves at their expense; and also, that, as we were answerable to God for the prayers which had not been said that day, Matins having been curtailed, we should have to recite out loud, during recreation, the seven penitential Psalms.

“Some ill-disposed nuns, having excited the Lady Abbess on the subject of these pranks, she sent for Madame de Rochechouart, and charged her with the disorders committed by the class, and with their wicked and spiteful behaviour. Madame de Rochechouart said it was false; that no doubt some of the pupils played tricks, but that as far as spite was concerned, nothing had come to her ears, and, moreover, that she had immediately punished the offenders. Then the Lady Abbess cited the tampering with the holy water as an act of impiety. Madame de Rochechouart, who was very quick tempered and hated mummeries, replied that the deed was dark, because it was a question of ink, but that it was impossible for her to see it in any other light than that of a child’s frolic, carried rather too far she admitted, whereupon she left the Lady Abbess in a tolerably bad temper.

“All the pranks Mademoiselle de Choiseul and I had played had considerably retarded the ceremony of my first communion. Mademoiselle de Choiseul had been in the white class for some time. As far as the lessons were concerned, I ought to have been in that class since the previous year, for I had at my fingers’ ends all that was taught in the blue class. I knew ancient history, the history of France, and mythology very well; I knew by heart the whole poem of _La Réligion_, the _Fables of La Fontaine_, two cantos of the _Henriade_, and all the tragedy of _Athalie_, in which I had acted the part of Joas. I danced very well; I knew how to sol-fa; I played the harpsichord a little and the harp a little; as for my drawing, that was the least good; but these continual pranks, into which I was partly drawn by my weakness for Mademoiselle de Choiseul, were very prejudicial to me. Every piece of mischief done was set down to our account. I was so fond of Mademoiselle de Choiseul that I preferred being in disgrace with her, to seeing her punished alone. Her friendship for me was reciprocal, and when I was punished for any fault she went to the mistresses and grumbled in a way that soon caused her to share my disgrace. The whole day was not long enough for the communications we had to make to each other, and in the evening, as her room opened into mine, she came to me, or else I visited her. We were both very fond of reading, and so were Mesdemoiselles de Conflans: we read together in all our spare moments, each reading out loud in her turn.

“As we had left off our pranks for some time, Madame de Rochechouart availed herself of this opportunity to advance me into the white class, for she quite worshipped me, and was rather amused than angry at the tricks I used to play. Madame de Sainte Delphine, her sister, was also very fond of me; she always said it would be a loss to the Convent if Choiseul and I became steady. She said that my frolics always bore the stamp of gaiety and wit, and, as a matter of fact, my tricks never harmed any one, and were always a subject of merriment.

“When my removal from the blue class was decided, I went and begged Mother Quatre Temps’s pardon for all the worry I had given her, and thanked her for her kindness. She told me she was very sorry to be no longer on as intimate terms with me, and that although I had occasionally maddened her, there had been moments which had compensated for all. I embraced her.

“Several of my companions, Mademoiselle de Chauvigny among them, had tears in their eyes when Mother Quatre Temps came to take off my blue ribbon.

“I was received with acclamations by the white class, whose ribbon I received from the hand of Madame de Saint Pierre, head-mistress of that class. The young ladies all came and kissed me. Of the three mistresses, Madame de Sainte Scholastique took my fancy the most, and I resolved to do all in my power to obtain her favour. She already preferred my friend Mademoiselle de Choiseul to all the other pupils.

“I was most anxious for the ceremony of my first communion, and was desirous not to remain long in the white class, where the mistresses had the reputation of being very severe.”

Hélène’s _Memoirs_ prove that her intelligence and character were now beginning to develop in a remarkable manner. Her style becomes bolder, and frees itself from the childish phraseology in which she gives us the story of the cat, or enlarges on Mother Quatre Temps’s punishments. Moreover, she will soon have more serious events to relate.

“We had great sorrows about this time, owing to the death of two of the pupils. Mademoiselle de Chaponay[40] was the first that died. She was nine years old, and had a charming person. Mademoiselle de la Roche Aymon[41] was very much grieved, as she was her little mother. Mademoiselle de Chaponay was carried to her grave by four of the scholars, her coffin was covered with white roses, and the church was all draped in white.

“Mademoiselle de Montmorency’s[42] death was far more dreadful.

“The Princesse de Montmorency wished her daughter’s education to be conducted with great severity. When she was twelve years old it was noticed that her figure was growing awry. She might perhaps be alive still if the suppositions of Madame de Saint Côme, the head lady apothecaress, had been credited.

“Madame de Saint Côme said that Mademoiselle de Montmorency suffered from a vitiated state of the blood, which impeded her growth, and that she was certain a treatment of antiscorbutic herbs, taken in decoctions, would purify the blood, when her figure would straighten of itself. This the Princesse de Montmorency would not admit. However, she was called away from the Convent on the occasion of her sister’s marriage with M. le Due de Montmorency Fosseuse, her cousin. She only returned after an absence of six months, and then quite unrecognisable. Without actual beauty, she still had had a very pleasing appearance; large fine black eyes, a white skin, a noble and proud carriage. Now, she was most fearfully emaciated, with a livid skin and a hard cough. She informed us of her marriage with the Prince de Lambesc,[43] which was to take place during the course of the winter. It was with great difficulty that the persons interested had obtained his consent to the match, for he did not wish to marry, and it was only on their representing to him that she was the greatest French heiress, both in name and in fortune, that he finally pledged his word.

“Meanwhile Mademoiselle de Montmorency’s figure was decidedly growing awry; and at last her mother put her under the care of _Val d’Ajonc_[44] who tortured her for six weeks. She wore bandages day and night, which aggravated the heated condition of her blood, till at last, becoming quite ill, she lost her hair and her teeth. One day she fell on her arm, which brought on a tumour in the armpit; the whole faculty in Paris was consulted in vain; not one could cure this tumour.

“Meanwhile the winter advanced, and considering the state she was in, it was impossible to give her in marriage. Moreover, M. de Lambesc told every one that he had no affection for her, and even took no trouble to conceal the repulsion he felt towards her; in consequence the marriage was postponed for a year.

“They determined to take the young girl to Geneva in order to place her under the care of the _Mountain Doctor_.[45] She came to say good-bye to us. She had retained her beautiful eyes alone. I cried a great deal on leaving her; she was my little mother. She gave me a keepsake in old lacquer, and told me to pray for her, and to be very good. She was much regretted, for she had a very beautiful nature, and was loved by all.

“Three months after she had left I awoke one night feeling very much agitated and called my nurse. She came, and I said to her: ‘Ah, I have just dreamt that I saw Mademoiselle de Montmorency in a white dress, and wearing a wreath of white roses; she told me she was going to be married. Since then I keep fancying that I see her two large black eyes looking at me, and it frightens me.’ A few days after we heard the news of Mademoiselle de Montmorency’s death; she had died the same night I dreamt of her.

“We heard that the bone of her arm had decayed and was all rotting away. They had tried to induce her mother to leave the room, but she flung herself down on the threshold of the door, sobbing most violently. When Mademoiselle de Montmorency saw her arm had mortified, she said to Madame de la Salle, a friend of her mother’s, who was with her: ‘Now death is beginning!’ Then Madame de la Salle gently proposed her receiving the Sacraments, and she consented.

“From that moment she ceased to see her mother, whose mind had completely given way. She begged Madame de la Salle to ask her mother’s forgiveness for any trouble she might have caused her; then she requested her to tell Madame de Rochechouart, that if she died, her greatest sorrow would be not to have had her with her during her last moments; then she gathered her attendants round her, asked their forgiveness, and received the Sacraments.

“Afterwards she sent for her doctor, and begged him to tell her frankly if he thought she would recover. Seeing he appeared embarrassed and that Madame de la Salle was crying, she said: ‘Ah! I did not know it was so certain. Oh, my God! take all my fortune, and call me back to life.’ Upon which, he told her not to lose courage. ‘Yes, she replied, ‘for I feel I need it all, to die at fifteen.’

“However, the young Duchesse de Montmorency and her husband arrived in the evening with the Duc de Laval; the doctor informed them she could not live through the night, as the gangrene was rapidly spreading.

“A few moments later Mademoiselle de Montmorency asked for her mother, but she could not come, for she was almost out of her mind with grief. They told her she was ill. She therefore asked for her sister, the Duchesse de Montmorency, who came at once. She said to her: ‘Tell all my companions at the Abbaye-aux-Bois that I am giving them a great example of the nothingness of human life. I had everything to make me happy in this world, and yet death snatches me away from my high destiny.’ Then she gave her many particular messages for Madame d’Equilly and Madame de la Faluère, and said she was to tell me to pray to God for my little mother.

“She asked for her confessor, and said to him: ‘Well, since I must die, you must teach me how to renounce life, for surely I should have the merit of such a sacrifice.’ Then the confessor brought a crucifix and began reciting the psalms, but he avoided those for the dying. Then she said: ‘Ah, I no longer suffer!’ For the last two days indeed she had hardly suffered, but previous to this she had gnawed her sheets with frenzy, and her screams could be heard a long way off. She asked for a peppermint lozenge, they put one in her mouth, she made an effort as though to cough, and expired.[46]

“When her death was announced to the class the grief was universal, and I in particular wept much for her. A magnificent commemorative service was held, which was founded in perpetuity to her memory by the payment of a sum of forty thousand francs.[47]

“There is one anecdote which I have heard related about Mademoiselle de Montmorency which shows that she possessed some native energy of character.

“When she was about eight or nine years old, and Madame de Richelieu was the ruling power, she one day behaved with great obstinacy towards the Lady Abbess, who said angrily to her: ‘When I see you like that, I could kill you.’ Mademoiselle de Montmorency replied: ‘It would not be the first time that the Richelieus had been the murderers of the Montmorencys.’”

Such a haughty answer in the mouth of a child is surprising enough, but it shows the extraordinary development of children at that period; and the account that Hélène herself gives of the death of her companion is a striking proof of this. It is impossible to relate a story better; not a line is wanting in the picture; and the simplicity of the style adds yet more to the effect of the narrative.

FOOTNOTES:

[28] Room in which the records were kept.

[29] Six hundred pounds sterling.

[30] He published in 1770 a small 12mo. vol. entitled _Method of Diverting Oneself with a Pack of Cards_, and in 1784 a fresh edition called _Method of Diverting Oneself with a Pack of Chequered Cards_.

[31] Professor of History at the Abbaye-aux-Bois.

[32] First dancer at the Opera.

[33] The leader of the ballet at the Opera.

[34] The Duchesse de la Vallière was the daughter of the Maréchal de Noailles. At fifty years of age she was still marvellously beautiful. On seeing her Madame d’Houdetot improvised the following stanza:

“La nature prudente et sage,
Force le temps à respecter,
Les charmes de ce beau visage,
Qu’elle ne saurait répéter.”

Nature prudent and wise, Forces time to respect, The charms of that 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.