Grammar was taught at Saint-Cyr in the spirit of the “Education des Filles” by practice in correct writing and speaking, rather than by rule, “as boys study their Latin Grammar.” Again and again the importance of speaking “good French” is insisted upon—and we all know the models that were given them. It was to teach her little girls to speak the purest and best French that Madame de Maintenon had them trained to act some of the best plays of Corneille and Racine. There came a day when these young people “played ‘Andromaque’ so well that they would never play it again—neither it, nor any other of your pieces,” Madame writes to Racine. She did not keep her word, fortunately for us, for they were destined to play “Esther.”
Part II.
If our visit to Saint-Cyr had been paid in the year 1689, we might have been in time for a rehearsal of “Esther,” or even (thrilling thought!) for the famous “fifth” performance, where Madame de Sévigné sat between Madame de Bagnols and the Maréchal de Bellefonds, in “the second bench behind the Duchesses,” and showed her appreciation by an absorbed attention and “certaines louanges sourdes et bien placées” which had their reward. For the King was so gratified that he actually came and spoke to her. “Madame, I am told you like it.” “Sire, what I feel is beyond expression.” “Said his Majesty to me: ‘Racine is very clever.’ Said I to him: ‘Indeed, Sire, he is very clever, but these young people are very clever, too.’” And off she goes for the torchlight drive to Paris, thinking less, one suspects, of Racine and the “very clever young people” who acted his piece, than of her own clever self, and the triumph she had scored over her friends, who were merely fashionable or pretty.
Alas! Dates are stubborn things, and the date of Marie Jeanne’s arrival at Saint-Cyr (1690) precludes all possibility of her having been (for instance) the “youngest of the Israelites” on this occasion, and peeping out from behind the curtains to see that brilliant audience. There were many people in France who, if they had been questioned about the matter, would have said it was just as well for herself. For it was not the sturdy good sense of the Curé of Versailles, alone, that was now awake to the danger of turning the heads of the young actresses; almost everybody who gave any thought to the matter saw how much justice there was in his blunt criticism that this was the way to train up theatrical “stars,” not “novices.” The fact that Saint-Cyr did not primarily set itself to train up “novices,” but rather good wives and mothers, lessened in no way the force of M. Hébert’s strictures. And Madame de Maintenon was not slow to perceive her mistake, and to repair it energetically.
It happened, accordingly, that it was into a very quiet Saint-Cyr—a very dull Saint-Cyr, according to the girls, who had lived through the excitement of the “Esther” performances of the year before—that Marie Jeanne found herself. Now, one day was exactly like another, and anybody who knew the time-tables could tell, exactly, what every little girl in the place was doing at a given hour.
That makes it all the easier for us, who have left Marie Jeanne and her companions, the Rouges, at their morning lessons, and must now come back to finish the day with them. The classes are nearly ended now, and there is a general, and not unpleasant feeling, that it is getting near dinner-time.
But before going to dine there is something to be done. A little girl must examine her conscience “to see in what she may have offended God during the morning, to ask His pardon, and to form the resolution of doing better, with His help, during the rest of the day.” The work she has offered to Him, when she awoke in the morning, is now examined by her, before she hands it in, so to speak; and the faults and blemishes are, if not repaired, at least apologised for. “Most particularly does she examine herself to see if she has fallen into the principal fault from which she has undertaken to rid herself.” At Saint-Cyr, nobody is considered too young to be allowed to forget the responsibility she has, as between her own soul and God.
Dinner-hour is twelve o’clock; and again, as at breakfast, a little girl is expected to really enjoy her food, and every care is taken to have it both appetizing and abundant. It is instructive, in this regard, to find Madame de Maintenon taking the Superior to task when an occasional retrenchment is attempted. In 1696, she wrote to Madame du Peron: “Madame, I have always forgotten to ask you why you continue to give rye bread to the children at a time when wheat is not dear. It is well for them to learn by their own experience the ups and downs of life, and they ought to take their share in the nation’s reverses. But they must go back to their ordinary régime when there is nothing to prevent it. The tendency of communities is to retrench in the matter of food rather than in things that show.” Again speaking to Madame de Glapion, she returns to the subject, giving her a lesson in true economy, which not nuns alone, but all housewives, might read with profit. It would appear that the nuns had not only been pushing their spirit of saving (in what concerned the girls) to the extreme, but that the work-mistresses had allowed a certain spirit of commercialism to creep into their direction of the needlework classes. “Are your girls sempstresses?” she asks, angrily. “Is it for that the King has entrusted them to you?” It is far better for them to learn to turn their hand to all kinds of sewing and mending—family sewing one might call it—than to be expert mantua-makers. She protests against the “economy” which savours of meanness and stupidity. “Indeed, ma sœur, when the big girls have worn their dresses more than a year, it is too much to expect the same dresses to last as long again with the little ones. The same remark applies to ever so many other things, where ‘economy’ has been pushed to such an extreme that I don’t know where you get material for mending. This is what it comes to: you keep mending, and darning, and patching, continually, without reflecting, that if, on the one hand, you save something, you waste so much silk, and thread and time, on the other, that there is really nothing gained.” With these liberal sentiments on the part of its foundress, we may expect to find the “table” at Saint-Cyr abundant and excellent. It is true it had not a great name for hospitality to strangers. “Be sure to take your dinner before you go,” said Madame de Maintenon’s brother one day to Bourdalone, who was to preach at Saint-Cyr. “Saint-Cyr is, in very truth, a House of God. One eats not, neither does one drink.” “It is true,” said Madame de Maintenon, gaily, “our ‘fort’ is education, and our ‘faible’ is hospitality.” But, it is only fair to Saint-Cyr to add that what it saved on its guests, it spent very profitably on its inmates. To one guest it was hospitable, at all events—the little Duchess of Burgundy. Would you like to know what she had for dinner one day she spent there? Lobster soup (it was a fast day), eggs, “sur le plat,” baked sole, gooseberry jelly, cream cakes, brown and white bread, and fresh butter. It sounds appetizing.
Dinner was followed by recreation; and to be a “reasonable” little girl, a little girl after Madame de Maintenon’s own heart, one had to put as much good will into one’s recreation as into anything else. She loved to see her girls run about, and dance, and play, and help their companions to enjoy themselves. But a strange thing had been reported to her. When they were in the garden, nobody could get them to move; and when they were in the class-rooms, they were always complaining of having to sit still so long. “Everything in its own place, and the garden was the place to run about.”
Such a charming garden, and park, as Saint-Cyr possessed—designed by the great Mansard, and with the King himself as sponsor for its poetically-named groves and alleys: Allée de Réflexions; Allée Solitaire; Allée du Cœur; Cabinet de Recueillement, and Cabinet Solitaire. If it were not the Comte d’Haussonvilles from whom I draw this curious piece of information, I should have inevitably credited Mademoiselle de Scudéry with the choice of these names. They seem so utterly unlike what we would expect from Louis XIV. One fancies Madame de Maintenon must have only accepted them with a sort of resigned amusement. Certainly she had no intention of allowing the names to justify themselves; for, instead of the sentimental meditation which they seemed to suggest, she was all for filling these groves and alleys with the gay laughter and games of healthy and happy little girls.