VI

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘What do you mean by your rasp?’

“‘What! I did not lend you my rasp?’

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

“‘I have not got your rasp.’

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

“‘Give me back my rasp!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The Library.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FOOTNOTES:[60]This department consisted of a large hall, entirely fitted up with drawers for the archives; a second hall containing the library of the repository, and a room for the nuns in charge.There were four ladies, two secretaries, six pupils, and two lay sisters.[61]There were two nuns at the turning box, and five pupils.[62]Prime, a term of the Roman Catholic Liturgy, the first canonical hour succeeding lauds, beginning at six in the morning.[63]The library at the Abbaye-aux-Bois occupied three large halls, contained sixteen thousand volumes, and possessed a very complete collection of theological works.

[60]This department consisted of a large hall, entirely fitted up with drawers for the archives; a second hall containing the library of the repository, and a room for the nuns in charge.There were four ladies, two secretaries, six pupils, and two lay sisters.

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

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

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

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

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

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