Chapter VI: Part I: The Abbaye-Aux Bois (4)

“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 Thereupon Madame de Rochechouart, who did not wish to commit herself with Mademoiselle de Choiseul, said: ‘I have withdrawn myself from the world, and events of this kind do not reach us; but tell me which member of your family you wish me to write to, who may be able to give you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.

In the extensive building of the Abbaye-aux-Bois there was one apartment which was rarely opened. It had formerly been occupied by Madame d’Orléans, better known under the name of the Abbess of Chelles.[77] From her youth she had been destined to the cloister, which certainly was not her vocation. After a short novitiate she pronounced her vows, and was named Abbess of the Abbaye-aux-Bois. Her remarkable beauty recalled that of her grandmother, Madame de Montespan, but her haughty and violent temper and ungovernable passions soon made her the terror and shame of the Convent, and at the time that Hélène was writing the end of her _Memoirs_ Madame d’Orleáns’ apartment was still a source of dread to the pupils.

“It was asserted,” says Hélène, “that shrieks and sounds of beating, and the rattle of chains, could be heard in the Orléans’ apartment, and it was said that Madame d’Orléans’ soul came back there in order to expiate all the evil she had done during her lifetime.

“People were so afraid of these rooms that they never entered them except a number at a time; and Sister Huon, having once gone in alone to sweep, found marks of blood in the bedroom, and was nearly suffocated by a strong smell of sulphur. She immediately fetched some of the others, but they saw nothing.

“When this apartment has to be cleaned, which is only twice a year, for no one ever occupies it, five or six people go in at the same time to sweep. There are I know not how many rooms of an immense size, all opening into each other, and it is dangerous to be there alone. The apartment is only opened for strangers, to show them the ceilings, which are beautifully painted, and the magnificent high warp tapestry on the walls, representing the histories of Esther and Judith. It is said that these tapestries are the finest the Gobelin manufactory have ever produced.”

Madame d’Orléans had left cruel memories of her stay at the Abbaye-aux-Bois.

“It was said,” continues the young Princess, “that in the time of Madame d’Orléans, who was a monster of cruelty, she had caused some of the nuns to be nearly beaten to death; others she had had shut up; and sometimes she made them chant the services the whole night through.

“Meanwhile M. le Régent would come to her rooms, and she would spend the night in laughing and amusing herself, eating and perpetrating all sorts of follies before the young nuns she had chosen as her companions. She said that she made the ladies spend their nights in prayer in order to expiate the sins she committed. It is also said that she used to take off all her clothes, and send for the nuns to admire her, for she was the most beautiful woman of her time. She took baths of milk, and the next day had it distributed among her nuns at the refectory, ordering them by their vows of obedience to drink it.

“At last her excesses reached such a point that the nuns made a formal complaint, and they were told she would be transferred to the Abbaye of Chelles.

“M. le Régent came himself to bring her the king’s commands, and told her that ‘she had so persecuted her unfortunate nuns that their complaints had reached the ear of the king; and that, notwithstanding his tenderness for her, he felt compelled to move her to another abbey, for the public feeling would be aroused if he did not do justice to these ladies.’ Then Madame d’Orléans was in despair; she wept, she implored her father to let her remain at the Abbaye-aux-Bois, and promised that henceforth her rule should be as gentle as it had hitherto been cruel and despotic. But the Regent was inexorable, and told her she must be ready to leave for Chelles in a few days. When she saw that she could not win him over, she called the Chapter together, and going down on her knees before the nuns, entreated them to petition Government in her behalf, promising them that they should never again have to complain of her conduct.

“The Prioress at that time was a Madame de Noailles. She came forward and said these words, which have been repeated to us a hundred times: ‘We have borne without murmuring, Madame, the cruel penalties you indicted upon us. Blindly submissive to your will, we only saw in our sufferings the hand of God laid heavily upon us. The respect which we have for you, and our attachment to the family you belong to, make us feel that it is a great misfortune not to end our days under your rule. But, in the same way that we should have been to blame had we refused to accept the afflictions God sent us, so likewise it would be tempting Providence if we sought the storm when it pleases Him to restore us to peace. We trust that you will find happiness where you are destined to live, and this, Madame, will be the object of our prayers and supplications.’

“Madame d’Orléans, seeing by this speech and the attitude of the nuns that she had nothing to hope for from them, got up like a fury and returned to her rooms.

“A few days later M. de la Tourdonnet, secretary for the commands of the Regent, and Madame la Duchesse de Villequier, came to tell her that her father’s carriages were ready, and that she must leave for Chelles; but she declared she would not go. In vain Madame la Duchesse de Villequier tried every form of persuasion, she could not prevail on her to leave. So they returned to M. le Régent, who said ‘that when gentle measures failed, strong ones must be used.’ He then sent with M. de la Tourdonnet and Madame de Villequier his captain of the guards, M. de Lyonne, and two officers; and Madame d’Orléans was informed that these persons had orders to put her in the carriage. When she heard this, she completely undressed herself, got into bed, sent for M. de Lyonne, and asked who would be bold enough to lay hands on a daughter of the royal blood of France. M. de Lyonne, much embarrassed, returned to M. le Régent, who sent Madame la Princesse de Conti with orders to try and call his daughter to reason, and if she did not succeed to have her wrapped up in her mattresses and carried away. So Madame la Princesse de Conti came, and by tears and entreaties at length prevailed on her to leave. She was conducted to Chelles, a distance of four leagues from Paris, where she retained the title of Lady Abbess, but without any authority. Some time after, the Abbey of Saint Anthony of Paris becoming vacant, she asked for it, and it was granted to her, but under the same conditions, namely, that she should have merely an honorary title. She died a few years later, and asked to be buried at the Abbaye-aux-Bois, which request was granted. Her body lies in the choir, under a mausoleum of white marble.[78]

“There was in the Abbaye-aux-Bois, over the fireplace in the Community Hall, a very fine portrait of Madame d’Orléans. She was represented standing, with crowns and sceptres trampled beneath her feet; in one hand holding a crucifix, and with the other taking from an altar a crown of thorns. A peculiarity of this picture was, that though she was dressed as a nun, her feet were bare.”

It hardly seems likely that the Abbess of Chelles would have busied herself with theological discussions. She, however, professed very decided Jansenist opinions. Her father the Regent strongly supported the Jansenists, out of opposition to the Court party, who belonged to the opposite sect; he probably inculcated his ideas to his daughter, and either under the influence of their Abbess, or that of their directors, the Abbaye-aux-Bois had become entirely Jansenist. The nuns expressed their opinions so openly that the Convent was put under an interdict during the last years of Madame de Richelieu’s rule. However, they got back into favour, and Monseigneur de Beaumont,[79] who was the avowed enemy of the Jansenists, consented to give confirmation to the young pupils of the Abbaye-aux-Bois in the year 1777. Hélène gives a faithful account of this event, which agitated the whole Convent, and not one detail of which escapes her keen observation.

“I was at that time being prepared for my confirmation, for I was to be confirmed at Whitsuntide.

“His Grace the Archbishop was to come that day, and as Mother Quatre Temps was supposed to be very Jansenist, I bethought myself to say, in order to please her, that I feared his Grace the Archbishop, instead of confirming me in the Holy Spirit, would confirm me in the evil one. Instead of scolding me, Mother Quatre Temps laughed extremely at this joke, and, delighted at having said such a witty thing, I went and repeated it all over the house. Mother Saint Ambrose, regent of the abbey-house, held very strong Molinist opinions, and when my joke came to her ears she complained to Madame de Rochechouart, who sent for me and rated me soundly. She decided that I should not be confirmed then, and I was only confirmed the following year. I took at my confirmation the names of Alexandrienne-Emanuelle. On Whitsunday, after having officiated at Mass and confirmed the pupils, His Grace the Archbishop entered the Abbey. The Lady Abbess, with her crozier and all the community, received him at the gate, and he visited all the establishment, even the schoolrooms. It is the custom for all the nuns to come forward, one after the other, and kiss his episcopal ring, but many of them avoided doing so. I even saw several, who, carried away by party feeling, stood behind his back and put out their tongues at him. He went into the library, which is very fine; it consists of three rooms opening into each other containing thirty thousand volumes, and some very curious manuscripts. It is said that the nuns possess Jansenius’s writings in the original edition, but they are not in the library, and are no doubt carefully concealed. When his Grace the Archbishop came to the library he sat down. Madame Sainte Delphine, who was head librarian, did the honours of the place. He was shown some handsome books, bound in vellum and ornamented with miniatures. He saw that some of the presses had their curtains drawn, and inquired what was in them. He was told that they contained romances and books on literature. He desired to see them, so the presses were opened and he admired the beauty of the editions, amongst others _The Romance of the Rose_ and the _Holy Grail_, which had magnificent miniatures. He asked how it came that books of that kind formed part of a convent library, for they had certainly not been purchased. Then Madame Sainte Delphine replied that formerly a great many people had on their death bequeathed their libraries to the Convent; that Madame d’Orléans had for her part given hers, which contained a great many books of this kind. Passing on to the shelves where the works of Nicole, Arnaud, Pascal, and other Fathers of Port Royal were ranged, the Archbishop said: ‘These have turned many a brain, and will turn many more.’ On passing the division containing the works of the Fathers of the Church, he remarked that many shelves were empty, and asked the reason. Madame Sainte Delphine said that several of the ladies had got the books. He expressed his surprise that women should take pleasure in reading scholastic works written in Latin, and said: ‘I am not astonished at my curates telling me that they are a better match for the doctors of the Sorbonne than for the ladies of the Abbaye-aux-Bois.’ He asked laughingly where Jansenius and the writings of Father Quesnel were usually kept. Madame Sainte Delphine replied that those books were not in the catalogue which was under her charge.

“Then he inquired whether she had ever seen these works in the house. She replied that for some years past they had been so questioned about this Jansenius that, even if they had not possessed his works, they would have tried to procure them, as it is against all conscience to speak evil of a person unless you are certain that he deserves it; and that it could only be the obligation under which they were to answer questions which made them read works so far from entertaining as those of Jansenius. After this the Archbishop left. Two days later he sent his curates, who had all the theological books returned to the library, locked up the shelves, and sealed them with the Archbishop’s seal, which the ladies were forbidden to remove. The ladies then said that in the interior of their establishment they recognised no authority but that of the Abbot of Cîteaux or Clairvaux, their superior. They wrote to him on the subject; he immediately sent two visitors of the order, who complained to his Grace the Archbishop, telling him that his authority could only be exercised with regard to the steps the nuns might take outside their Convent, but that the interior was under the sole jurisdiction of Cîteaux or Clairvaux.[80] As his Grace the Archbishop was afraid the affair might be brought before Parliament, he sent to remove the seals; then the visitors assembled the Chapter. I do not know what took place; I only know that when they separated they left the Abbey as well pleased with the nuns as the nuns were with them. Shortly after the Abbot of Clairvaux sent an immense quantity of Burgundy wine as a present to the Convent.

“We resolved at that time to give a performance in honour of Madame de Rochechouart, on her fête or Saint’s Day, which was the 15th of August, Mary being her name. We wanted to get it up with more care than usual, so that it might be a success. So we acted _Esther_. I took that part. Mademoiselle de Choiseul was Mordecai, Mademoiselle de Châtillon Ahasuerus, and Mademoiselle de Chauvigny was Haman. Our costumes were copied from those of the _Comédie Française_. I had a white and silver dress, the skirt of which was fastened with diamonds from top to bottom; I had on more than one hundred thousand écus’[81] worth of diamonds, having all those of Mesdames de Mortemart, de Gramont, and of Madame la Duchesse de Choiseul. It was the Vicomtesse de Laval who dressed me. I had a mantle of pale blue velvet and a gold crown. All the pupils in the chorus had white muslin dresses and veils. Before the play, still wearing the simple costume of the Convent, I advanced and pronounced the following words:--

“Nous sommes en un lieu par la grâce habité,
Où l’on vit dans la paix et la tranquillité.
L’innocence, qui fut leur compagne éternelle
S’y plaît et n’eut jamais d’asile plus fidèle.

“À MADAME DE ROCHECHOUART.

“Tout un peuple naissant est formé par vos mains.
Vous jetez dans son cœur la sémence féconde
Des vertus dont il doit sanctifier le monde.
Ce Dieu qui vous protège, ici du haut des cieux
A commis à vos soins ce dépôt précieux.
C’est lui qui rassembla ces colombes timides
Afin que vous soyez leur secours et leur guide.

* * * * *

We live in a place where grace inhabits,
Where one dwells in peace and tranquillity.
And innocence, their eternal companion,
Is happy in this her safest refuge.

TO MADAME DE ROCHECHOUART.

An entire people is formed by your hands.
You sow in its heart the fruitful seed
Of virtues which will sanctify the world.
God, who from the heavens protects you here
Has committed this precious charge to your care.
It is He who gathered these doves together
For you to be their guide and their succour.
Grand Dieu que ses bienfaits aient place en ta mémoire!
Que les soins qu’elle prend pour soutenir ta gloire,
Soient gravés de ta main au livre où sont écrits
Les noms prédestinés de ceux que tu chéris!
Tu m’écoutes, ma voix ne t’est point étrangère,
Je t’implore souvent pour celle qui m’est chère;
Elle-même t’envoie ses plus tendres soupirs;
Le feu de ton amour allume ses désirs.
Le zèle qui l’anime au lever de l’aurore,
Au coucher du soleil, pour toi l’enflamme encore.
Tu la vois tous les jours donner de grands exemples,
Baiser avec respect le pavé de tes temples.
O vous, qui vous plaisez aux folles passions
Qu’allument dans vos cœurs de vaines fictions
Profanes amateurs de spectacles frivoles
Dont l’oreille s’ennuie au son de mes paroles,

* * * * *

Great God! may her goodness be remembered by Thee!
May the care with which she supports Thy glory
Be engraved by Thy hand in the book where are written
The predestined names of those Thou dost cherish!
Thou will’st hearken to my voice, it is not strange to Thee,
Oft I implore Thee for her who is dear to me;
She herself gives Thee her tenderest sighs;
The fire of Thy love is all her desire.
The zeal which fills her at rise of dawn
Still flames for Thee at set of sun.
Thou dost see her each day give great examples,
Kiss with respect the pavement of Thy temples.
Oh you who rejoice in mad passion,
Aroused in your heart by vain fictions,
Profane admirers of frivolous shows,
Whose ear is wearied with the sound of these words,

* * * * *

Fuyez de nos plaisirs la sainte austérité:
Tout respire ici Dieu, la paix, la vérité.[82]

* * * * *

Flee from our pleasures full of saintly austerity:
All here breathes of God, of peace, and pure verity.

“I cried towards the end, and Madame de Rochechouart also. The chorus was sung and a ballet was danced while I dressed. After the performance, as soon as she saw me, Madame de Rochechouart held out her arms to me; I rushed into them, and she folded me to her heart. She did not hide her great partiality for me.

“I was so happy at that time that I should have been glad for it to last for ever. I had at last been appointed to the dispensary,[83] which had been the summit of my ambition, and I lived there very pleasantly. I was with Madame de Choiseul, Mesdemoiselles de Conflans, Mademoiselle de Montsauge, and Mademoiselle de Damas, all of whom were pretty and amiable.

“Among the nuns Madame de Saint Côme was a person of rare amiability; Madame de Saint Laurent, who was of the Cossé family, was witty and scatterbrained. Madame Sainte Marguerite, who was only sixteen years old, had just taken her vows, and thought only of amusing herself. Madame Sainte Véronique was a ridiculous old woman, without a particle of common sense, and that in itself was a source of amusement. Madame de Saint Côme taught us botany; she taught us to know all the different plants and their virtues. In the evening we went to Madame de Rochechouart’s. I would have liked to have spent my life in that way.

“I have said that there were six of us in the dispensary. Here are our portraits, all faithful likenesses: Madame la Duchesse de Choiseul, fifteen years old, married, pretty, amiable, bright, witty, but satirical, violent, and hot-tempered. Mademoiselle Hélène Massalska (myself), fourteen years old, pretty, clever, graceful, stylish, a good figure, as stubborn as the Pope’s mule, and incapable of controlling her first impulse. Mademoiselle de Damas,[84] pretty, most graceful, but with more jargon than wit, sixteen years of age. Mademoiselle de Montsauge, the most beautiful eyes in the world, but with a dark complexion, gentle, witty, fifteen years old. Mademoiselle de Conflans,[85] rather pretty, remarkably brilliant and full of wit, aged fifteen. Her sister, Mademoiselle de Vaudreuil, was not pretty; she tried to copy her sister, but was far from being so clever.

“One morning, Madame de Rochechouart said to me: ‘Hélène, come to me at six o’clock; I want to speak to you.’ I went therefore, according to the order I had received; but she only said to me: ‘My dear child, I am very sorry, but I cannot talk to you now; my head is burning, and I feel feverish; you must go away, and I must go to bed.’ I returned to the dispensary, which was my department, and said that I had found Madame de Rochechouart ill. As this was very seldom the case with her, Madame de Ferrière and Madame de Cossé, the second and third dispensary nuns, went to her immediately. When Madame de Ferrière returned she told us she had found Madame de Rochechouart in a high fever. We were all seized with the greatest apprehension; on going to the refectory we carried the news to all the class, and the consternation was general. After supper Sister Léonard, who waited on Madame de Rochechouart, came with a message from her to say our names would not be called over; and we went sorrowfully to bed. The next day, on going down to the schoolroom, we were told that the fever had increased, and that Madame de Rochechouart was going to be taken to the infirmary. Then we all burst into tears; Madame de Choiseul, Mesdemoiselles de Conflans, myself, and a few others were in dreadful grief. The Duchesse de Mortemart[86] came in the afternoon, bringing with her Bouvart[87] and Lorry.[88] The same evening Madame de Rochechouart became delirious, and remained in that state till the eve of her death.

“Meanwhile, the masters were dismissed, we left off playing at any games, and were in a state of utter despair. Every hour one of the pupils went to ask for news at the infirmary. The Lady Abbess went herself every day to see her. The Duc de Mortemart and his brother were admitted.[89] The Duchesse de Mortemart remained day and night by her beside. Mademoiselle de Mortemart seemed sad, but less afflicted than we were: it is true that her aunt had never cared much for her. At last, after eleven days of continuous fever, the doctors declared that she could not recover, and that the Sacraments must be administered as soon as she should become conscious.

“The following day, the twelfth of her illness, towards the morning, she appeared to recover consciousness. She was asked, by way of precaution, if she would not receive the Sacraments, and she made a sign of assent. They were therefore administered, and although it is the custom for the pupils to assist at these ceremonies from the passage of the infirmary, as it was feared that our cries might be heard from her room, and that some of us might try to see her, we were conducted during that time to the choir.

“At night her agony began; but they did not toll the bell, as is customary at such moments, partly because of the pupils, and also on account of Madame Sainte Delphine, who had fallen into a state of stupor. From the moment she had seen her sister’s illness take a fatal turn she had not left the foot of her bed, but after the Sacraments had been administered, the Duchesse de Mortemart conferred in a low voice with the Lady Abbess, and told Madame Sainte Delphine that she begged her not to spend the night in the infirmary. The Lady Abbess told her she insisted on her going, and gave orders to Madame Saint Sulpice not to leave her. So she was taken to the dispensary, where we all, belonging to that department, spent the night in weeping.

“The Lady Abbess was informed, as she requested, that Madame de Rochechouart was at the point of death. Her confessor, Dom Thémines, had not left her side. The Duchesse de Mortemart was in the Abbess’s rooms, for she would not leave the Convent. When they came to call the Lady Abbess she begged to go with her, but the Lady Abbess implored her not to come, and she sent word to the Duc de Mortemart to come immediately. He arrived, having on the previous day asked for a permission from his Grace the Archbishop to take Madame Sainte Delphine away from the Convent if her sister died. At about eight o’clock in the morning Madame de Rochechouart, who had not spoken a word since the Sacraments had been administered, asked for her sister. They told her that she was not there, but that they would fetch her.

“‘Raise my pillows,’ she said. Madame de Verrue and Madame de Domangeville, first and second infirmary nuns, did so; then she took hold of Madame de Verrue’s arm, and said: ‘Oh, what pain! I am dying!’ and she expired. The class had just come down, and Madame de Royer had said that Madame de Rochechouart was not dead, so that we did not know but what there might still be hope. As soon as she had expired, the Lady Abbess left the infirmary, in order to convey the intelligence to Madame la Duchesse and her son. The Duchess fainted away. When she came to herself again they said there was nothing else to do but to put Madame Sainte Delphine in a carriage and take her away. So a carriage with six horses was sent for; when it arrived, Madame de Mortemart went to the dispensary, where Madame Sainte Delphine had remained, as yet unconscious of her sister’s death. Madame de Mortemart told her nothing, but simply gave her the Archbishop’s permit to remain three months out of the Convent. Madame Sainte Delphine immediately understood what that meant, and had a violent attack of hysterics. At last they managed to put her into the carriage, and convey her into the country at Everli, where she spent one month. The other two she spent at Paraclet, with her sister, and then returned to the Abbaye-aux-Bois.

“The Lady Abbess sent Madame de Villiers with orders to Madame de Royer to announce the news to the pupils, but we already suspected it. She came forward, when each of us had taken our places, and said: ‘Young ladies, it has pleased God to recall to Himself our beloved Madame de Rochechouart. Offer up to Him the sacrifice of your legitimate grief, and pray for the repose of her soul.’ Then we asked to be taken to the choir, where we recited the prayers for the dead.

“We had been so deeply attached to the person of Madame de Rochechouart that we obtained permission not to appear in the schoolroom either that day or the next, on which she was to be buried.

“The class did not follow her funeral, but passed the time in prayer. She was to have been buried in the cloister, as all the nuns are, but the family requested that the body should be placed in one of the chapels of the choir, which was accordingly done. A slab of black marble covers her tomb. Each pupil had two Masses said for her soul, and she had a magnificent funeral at the expense of her family.

“It now became necessary to elect another mistress-general, but nobody wished to take the office, each one dreading the comparisons which would be made by the pupils. Some of them wished to have Madame de Royer, but she would not accept. We wanted Madame Sainte Delphine, but she was certainly not equal to the work; she was far too indolent.

“At last, on the day fixed for the meeting of the Chapter to decide on the appointment, a novice came at three o’clock from the community, to tell the class that the ladies begged us to pray that the light of the Holy Ghost might guide them in the choice they were about to make of a mistress-general. We immediately all knelt down, and after a short silence sang the _Veni Creator_.