“The next day, on awaking, Mademoiselle de Bourbonne received a large bouquet, and in the afternoon M. d’Avaux came. We thought him horrible, which he certainly was. When Mademoiselle de Bourbonne came out of the parlour, we all said to her: ‘Ah! good heavens! how ugly your husband is; if I were you, I would not marry him. Ah! you unfortunate girl!’ And she said: ‘Oh, I shall marry him, because papa insists upon it; but I shall not love him, that is certain.’ It was decided that she should not see him again till the day she made her first communion, so that her attention should not be distracted. She made her first communion at the end of eight days, and four or five days after was married in the chapel of the hôtel d’Havré.
“She returned to the Convent the same day. She was given jewels, diamonds, and magnificent wedding presents from Boland; what amused her most was that we all called her Madame d’Avaux. She told us that after the wedding ceremony there had been a breakfast at her mother-in-law’s; that they had wanted her to kiss her husband, but that she began to cry, and absolutely refused; and that then her mother-in-law had said she was only a child. Henceforth her strong aversion to her husband only grew and flourished, and once when he asked for her in the parlour, she pretended to have sprained her ankle sooner than go down to see him.”
On hearing of such marriages it is impossible not to feel some indulgence for the theory of free choice so eloquently pleaded by the women and philosophers of that period. We are therefore scarcely surprised to hear that some years later Madame d’Avaux, on meeting in society the Vicomte de Sègur, youngest brother of the ambassador, was so captivated by his charming wit and personal attractions that she was drawn into an intimacy which lasted all her life.
The arch and ingenuous narrative of the little Princess also enables us to touch the weak point in this Convent education, so admirable in many respects. These young girls, brought up away from a world they were burning to know, were destined beforehand to be carried away by its temptations. How was it possible for the nuns to warn them against dangers of which they themselves were ignorant? A mother alone can fulfil that duty; and though the Convent may form the character and manners, adorn the mind and develop accomplishments, it is family life alone that can create woman in the highest and healthiest sense of the word.
But let us return to Hélène, who was preparing for her first communion, together with her friends Mesdemoiselles de Mortemart, de Châtillon, de Damas, de Montsauge, de Conflans, de Vaudreuil,[51] and de Chauvigny. The great day arrived, and the young friends partook together of the communion.
“On that day,” says Hélène, “the pupils do not wear their Convent dress, but a white gown, striped or embroidered in silver. Mine was in watered silk striped with silver. Nine days after we made a gift of our dresses to the vestry. We folded our gowns, fetched from the vestry large silver salvers, and after the Gospel, during the offertory, we went one after the other and laid our gift on the altar next to the choir. After Mass we went to the schoolroom, where our white ribbons were taken off and red ones given us instead, and all the class embraced and congratulated us.”
FOOTNOTES:
[48] Her mother, the Comtesse de Lastic, was lady-in-waiting to Mesdames de France.
[49] Mademoiselle de Mortemart was Madame de Rochechouart’s niece. She married in 1777 the Marquis de Rougé.
[50] This kind of marriage was frequent at that period.