1.C.6.7. SOME SILHOUETTES OF THIS DARKNESS
DURING the six years which separate 1819 from 1825, the
prioress of the Petit-Picpus was Mademoiselle de Blemeur,
whose name, in religion, was Mother Innocente. She came of
the family of Marguerite de Blemeur, author of Lives of the
Saints of the Order of Saint-Benoit. She had been re-elected.
She was a woman about sixty years of age, short, thick, "singing
like a cracked pot," says the letter which we have already
quoted; an excellent woman, moreover, and the only merry
one in the whole convent, and for that reason adored. She
was learned, erudite, wise, competent, curiously proficient in
history, crammed with Latin, stuffed with Greek, full of
Hebrew, and more of a Benedictine monk than a Benedictine
nun.
The sub-prioress was an old Spanish nun, Mother Cineres,
who was almost blind.
The most esteemed among the vocal mothers were Mother
Sainte-Honorine; the treasurer, Mother Sainte-Gertrude, the
chief mistress of the novices; Mother-Saint-Ange, the assistant
mistress; Mother Annonciation, the sacristan; Mother
Saint-Augustin, the nurse, the only one in the convent who
was malicious; then Mother Sainte-Mechtilde (Mademoiselle
Gauvain), very young and with a beautiful voice; Mother des
Anges (Mademoiselle Drouet), who had been in the convent
of the Filles-Dieu, and in the convent du Tresor, between
Gisors and Magny; Mother Saint-Joseph (Mademoiselle de
Cogolludo), Mother Sainte-Adelaide (Mademoiselle d'Auverney),
Mother Misericorde (Mademoiselle de Cifuentes, who
could not resist austerities), Mother Compassion (Mademoiselle
de la Miltiere, received at the age of sixty in defiance
of the rule, and very wealthy); Mother Providence (Mademoiselle
de Laudiniere), Mother Presentation (Mademoiselle de
Siguenza), who was prioress in 1847; and finally, Mother
Sainte-Celigne (sister of the sculptor Ceracchi), who went
mad; Mother Sainte-Chantal (Mademoiselle de Suzon), who
went mad.
There was also, among the prettiest of them, a charming
girl of three and twenty, who was from the Isle de Bourbon, a
descendant of the Chevalier Roze, whose name had been Mademoiselle
Roze, and who was called Mother Assumption.
Mother Sainte-Mechtilde, intrusted with the singing and
the choir, was fond of making use of the pupils in this quarter.
She usually took a complete scale of them, that is to say,
seven, from ten to sixteen years of age, inclusive, of assorted
voices and sizes, whom she made sing standing, drawn up in
a line, side by side, according to age, from the smallest to the
largest. This presented to the eye, something in the nature of
a reed-pipe of young girls, a sort of living Pan-pipe made of
angels.
Those of the lay-sisters whom the scholars loved most were
Sister Euphrasie, Sister Sainte-Marguerite, Sister Sainte-Marthe,
who was in her dotage, and Sister Sainte-Michel,
whose long nose made them laugh.
All these women were gentle with the children. The nuns
were severe only towards themselves. No fire was lighted
except in the school, and the food was choice compared to
that in the convent. Moreover, they lavished a thousand cares
on their scholars. Only, when a child passed near a nun and
addressed her, the nun never replied.
This rule of silence had had this effect, that throughout the
whole convent, speech had been withdrawn from human creatures,
and bestowed on inanimate objects. Now it was the
church-bell which spoke, now it was the gardener's bell. A
very sonorous bell, placed beside the portress, and which was
audible throughout the house, indicated by its varied peals,
which formed a sort of acoustic telegraph, all the actions of
material life which were to be performed, and summoned to
the parlor, in case of need, such or such an inhabitant of the
house. Each person and each thing had its own peal. The
prioress had one and one, the sub-prioress one and two. Six-five
announced lessons, so that the pupils never said "to go to
lessons," but "to go to six-five." Four-four was Madame de
Genlis's signal. It was very often heard. "C'est le diable a
quatre,— it's the very deuce— said the uncharitable. Tennine
strokes announced a great event. It was the opening of
the door of seclusion, a frightful sheet of iron bristling with
bolts which only turned on its hinges in the presence of the
archbishop.
With the exception of the archbishop and the gardener, no
man entered the convent, as we have already said. The school-girls
saw two others: one, the chaplain, the Abbe Banes, old
and ugly, whom they were permitted to contemplate in the
choir, through a grating; the other the drawing-master, M.
Ansiaux, whom the letter, of which we have perused a few
lines, calls M. Anciot, and describes as a frightful old hunchback.
It
will be seen that all these men were carefully chosen.
Such was this curious house.