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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 schoolgirls 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.
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