“They told me I was very pretty, and had pretty hair; but I made no answer, because I had forgotten all the French I knew on the journey ... though I understood everything that was said to me. They said they were going to take me inside to dress me in the school uniform, and show me to Madame Geoffrin afterwards. They opened the wicket of the Grille, and passed me through it, for I was very small. They brought me to the Abbess’s room then, and Soeur Crinoire put the uniform on me; but when I saw it was black I began to cry bitterly; however, when they fastened the blue ribbons on me, I was somewhat consoled. Then they gave me sweets, and told me I should have some every day.
“The big girls who were on duty in the Abbess’s apartments came to have a look at me, and I could hear them say: ‘Poor youngster; she cannot speak any French; we must get her to talk Polish to see what sort of a language it is.’ But I knew they would only make fun of me, so I wouldn’t say a word. Then they said that I came from a country very far away called Poland, and somebody said, ‘Oh! how funny it must feel to be a Pole!’”
Hélène was not long until she made a friend. Mademoiselle de Montmorency, the daughter of one of the noblest houses of France, took the little stranger on her knee, and asked her wouldn’t she like to have her for her “little mother.” “I made signs that I should,” says Hélène, “for I made up my mind not to speak until I should be able to talk like everybody else.” The other girls wanted to know did Hélène think Mlle de Montmorency pretty, and the little Pole put her hand to her eyes, “as much as to say that she had lovely eyes.”
After being brought to the parlour to have her uniform inspected by her uncle and Madame Geoffrin, Hélène was sent off by Madame de Rochechouart, the mistress of schools, in care of Mademoiselle de Montmorency, to make the acquaintance of her future companions. She gives a spirited description of her reception at recreation, when the girls crowded round her, anxious to see what sort of a strange being the little foreigner was who could not speak French. At supper she made up with another little girl called Mademoiselle de Choiseul, and even ventured on a word or two in reply to something the latter said. At that, little Choiseul clapped her hands and shouted: “Oh! the little Polish girl can speak French!” Mlle de Choiseul told her that at roll-call she would have to ask for recreation for all the Pensionnaires and give a party. Hélène religiously complied with these recommendations, and her inauguration at l’Abbaye-aux-Bois was complete.
She was not long making herself at home—even too much at home, if one may judge from some of her escapades.
There were three divisions in the school—the “Blues,” the “Whites,” and the “Reds.” The “Blues” were the little girls from seven to ten; the “Whites” were the First Communion Class; and the “Reds” were the big girls who were finishing their education. As these young girls all belonged to the highest classes of society, and were destined to be mistresses of great establishments, and to play a great and important part in the social life of the time, their education had a very definite objective, and one cannot but be impressed with the perfection with which it was adapted to it. It was extremely practical on the one hand, and on the other, laid great stress on the accomplishments most valued in the circles in which the girls were to move. Extreme care was taken with their dancing, their music, their drawing, and perhaps most of all with their conversation, the art which the eighteenth century placed above all others. They were early accustomed to good society, being often let out to visit at great houses. We find Hélène out “three or four times a week,” one carnival, at children’s balls given by Madame de la Vaupalière and the Marquise du Châtelet, at another, out three times a week for a whole month, to rehearse for the part of Joas in Athalie at the Duchess of Mortemart’s. Royalty came to the school fêtes and school balls, and the greatest ladies in Paris strove for invitations. Madame de Rochechouart, the mistress of schools, had the habit of gathering some of the girls, in whom she was most interested, into her room every evening. “There,” says Hélène, “we read the newest books which could be fittingly read by us—we talked of everything that interested Paris, for the nuns spent so much of their time in the parlour, and we girls went out so much, that we knew everything.... It seems to me that Madame de Rochechouart and her sister had a distinction of manner all their own, and a “tone” which we all caught—I mean those of us who visited them much. Society ladies were astonished at the way we expressed ourselves, Mademoiselle de Conflans in particular. There was a distinction about her slightest remark.”
So much for their social training. For their domestic training there was the admirable system of “Obédiences,” that is, a system by which the principal duties of the great establishment were distributed among the elder girls under the expert supervision of the choir nuns, and with proper help from the lay-sisters. Future Duchesses and Countesses were to be found in the “Lingerie” folding sheets and serviettes; in the “Réfectoire” laying the cloth and setting the tables; in the “Sacristie” mending altar-cloths and vestments; in the “Apothicairerie” making poultices and mixing potions; in the “Cuisine” cooking or adding up household accounts. And when these young girls became mistresses of great houses themselves, their intimate knowledge of the practical working of them thus acquired must have been of immense service to them.
It was to the “Blues” that Hélène first belonged, and she has been thoughtful enough to copy out for us their “Timetable.” From which it appears that they rose at seven in summer, and 7.30 in winter, and went to bed all the year round at 9.30. They were in their places in the class-room at 8, to be inspected by the mistress of the school, Madame de Rochechouart, and studied and repeated their catechism until nine, when they had breakfast. Mass was after breakfast, and they studied from 10 to 11. At 11 they had a music lesson, and at half-past a dancing lesson. From 12 to 1 they had history and geography. At 1 they dined, and recreation continued after dinner until 3 o’clock, when they went back to the class-room for writing and arithmetic. From four to five they had a dancing lesson (where they learned to dance those “farlanes” and “montférines” in which Hélène was so proficient.) At five “goûter” and recreation until six. At six they practised the harp or clavecin, and at seven they had supper. On Sundays and fêtes they came to the schoolroom at 8 and studied the Gospel until 9. At 11 they had a sermon from one of the chaplains, and at 4 o’clock vespers.
The best masters in Paris were engaged for these young girls. Molé and Larive, the “Stars” of the Comédie-Française, taught them declamation and reading aloud; Philippe, Noverre, and Dauberval, “premier danseurs” at the “Opéra” taught them dancing. When they were ill, they had the King’s own doctor called in to prescribe for them, and expense was never considered in the question of their education.
Hélène sketches in a most comic way the three mistresses of the “Blues” in her time: Madame de Montluc (in religion Mère Quatre-Temps), “good-natured, quiet, careful, but far too fussy”; Madame de Montbourcher (Mère Sainte Macaire), “good-natured, stupid, very ugly, and dreadfully afraid of ghosts”; Madame de Fresnes (Mère Sainte Bathilde), “ugly, good-natured, great at telling stories.”