You may be sure that Marie Jeanne’s cap was properly put on—for, as you have probably guessed already, it was no less a person than Madame de Maintenon herself who helped her to dress on her first morning at Saint-Cyr. As we know, she very often came to the house before the children got up, and was present at their toilet, and had an eye to the way in which they discharged the household tasks that were assigned to them.
And now that Marie Jeanne is dressed and we have sufficiently admired her uniform, I have to ask you whether you would wish to spend the rest of the day with her and the other “Rouges” here at Saint-Cyr. If you do (and I can imagine no experience more profitable for any one interested in little girls and their education), I shall allow Madame de Maintenon herself to do the honours.
In an instruction to the “Class rouge” in the year 1701, she describes in great detail how a “reasonable little girl” spends her day at Saint-Cyr. The “Entretien” is particularly interesting, as enabling us to reconstruct the programme of the day’s work at the celebrated “Maison de Saint-Louis.” Nor is it less interesting, as showing Madame de Maintenon’s methods of instruction. One likes to picture the Classroom of the “Rouge” for the occasion—a charming big room, with tall windows looking out on a beautiful park, with coloured prints and maps on the walls, and fifty-six little girls, in the uniform I have described, sitting in their benches. One fancies that they have hurried back from recreation in the park, with more promptness than usual at the news that Madame is coming to them to-day. And now the door opens, and they all stand up to receive her. We can picture her seated on the rostrum, and our little friends in their places—and the “Entretien” ready to begin. I had forgotten one detail: At Saint-Cyr they always began a lesson with the recitation of the “Veni Creator.”
She looks round the eager little faces, and picks one out. “Mademoiselle de Provieuse,” says Madame, “do you know what is meant by a ‘reasonable’ little girl?” Now, it is not quite easy to define in so many words a reasonable little girl, though one may know in one’s own mind very well what a reasonable little girl is. So Mademoiselle de Provieuse hesitates, and Madame comes to the rescue. It appears that “a reasonable person” is simply “a person who is always doing the right thing at the right time.” That sounds simple, and every little girl present is interested immediately. It seems, then, that to be “reasonable”—and if there is one thing every little Saint-Cyrienne worth her salt wants to be, it is “reasonable”—one has nothing to do, but to do as well as one possibly can whatever one is supposed to be doing at any particular time. Let us see how that works out.
The first thing our “reasonable” little girl does when she awakes in the morning is to make her Morning Offering—and that she does with all her heart. Then, when she is called, she gets up immediately (even though six o’clock seems rather early), dresses herself quickly and modestly, but as neatly and carefully as she can. After that, if she has any time to spare, she helps the smaller children to dress, and takes her share in making beds, tidying up the dormitory, sweeping, dusting, and polishing. No half-done work for her—untidily made beds, sweeping that leaves all the dirt in the corners, or polishing that shows more smears than anything else! No, whatever a “reasonable” little girl does, she does with all her heart, and her only pride is in work well done.
The next item in the day’s programme is morning prayers in the schoolroom. And here our little girl shows how “reasonable” she is by her devotion and attention. She is not the sort of little girl who giggles, and whispers, and tries to distract her companions—not she, for she knows that there is nothing more serious than praying to God. Prayers are followed by breakfast—and as it is as important to eat well as it is to do anything else well, nothing pleases Madame better than to hear of a little girl thoroughly enjoying her breakfast. It would seem that at Saint-Cyr, there was sometimes permission to talk at breakfast, while sometimes silence was enforced. Madame de Maintenon, who likes to give her girls a reason for the rules to which they are subjected, explains on another occasion (Instruction to the “Jaunes,” July, 1703) why these times of silence were prescribed: “The first reason is to teach you to hold your tongues; nothing is so ugly in a girl as to be always talking, even if she were a genius, and said the wittiest and cleverest things possible. The Saint-Cyr girls have always been accused of this fault. Another reason is to give you time to think, for we know that, if you employ it well, nothing will contribute so much to your advantage.”
At eight o’clock our little girl goes to Mass (here a hint is slipped in as to her behaviour in Church—she must see her companions well seated before taking her own place, and during Mass-time she must not turn her head to see who is coming out; she must follow the parts of the Mass with all the respect and devotion of which she is capable, for nothing is so sacred as the Mass).
Classes occupy the time from 8.30 until 12; and I know you will be interested to know what our little friend learns at them. The programme of instruction for the “Rouges” included reading, writing, and arithmetic, the elements of grammar, Catechism and Bible History. If she were a little advanced, she could help the others, and Madame de Maintenon loved to see her little friends doing the mother to their younger companions. According to her, a little girl could not too soon begin to make herself useful to others. In an “Entretien” with the nuns, dated 1701, on the “necessity of avoiding useless fatigues,” we catch a glimpse of a little girl comfortably seated, with a little new-comer, to whom she is teaching her “ba bé,” kneeling at her feet. As Madame de Maintenon is such a disciple of Fénélon (in matters of education) one is glad to think that the little Saint-Cyriennes learned their “ba bé,” not in a Latin Psalter, as was the general habit of the time, but in “the prettily-bound book, with gilt edges and nice pictures,” which he recommends.
For teaching writing, she certainly adopted his methods: “When children can read a little, you should make a sort of play for them by making them form letters.... Children have a natural inclination to draw figures on paper, and, with the least little bit of help and direction, they will learn to form letters, and gradually accustom themselves to write. Then you will say to them: Write me a little note, or send such and such a piece of news to your brother, or your cousin.” We know that Madame de Maintenon herself adopted this method with one of her first pupils, the Duke of Maine. When he was only five years old she told him one day to write a letter to the King. “Oh! but I don’t know how to write a letter,” said the little chap. “Have you nothing in your heart you would like to tell him?” “I am very sorry he has gone away,” says the little Duke, readily. “Very well, write that down; nothing could be better. What else?” “Well, I shall be very, very glad when he comes back.” “There’s your letter written,” says Madame. “All you have to do is to write it down simply as you think it, and, if you think amiss, we shall correct you.” It is in this way, as she told the “Bleues” one day she came to correct their letters for them, that she taught Monsieur de Maine, “and you know,” she said, “what beautiful letters he writes now.”
I have not been able to find any indication of how arithmetic was taught at Saint-Cyr—but its importance for girls had been too strongly insisted on by Fénélon for it to be neglected. “Girls,” he says, “should know the four rules—addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. You should practice them in these rules by giving them accounts to make up. Many people find this task a great burden, but if one is accustomed to it from childhood, and learns to avail oneself of the help of the rules, to deal quickly with the most complicated accounts, one loses this distaste.” Very often, as he points out, good and economical housekeeping depends on the housekeeper’s exactitude in keeping accounts.