A GREAT LADY OF OLD FRANCE.*

IT is as good as it is pleasant sometimes to contemplate the andel rclgime from its other side, the side which the literature of the great French Revolution, and the current of French history from the opening of the revolutionary period to the present day, are- calculated to hide from us by clouds of turbulence and change. An opportunity for such contemplation is afforded by the Life of Via de Madame de to Itealiefaueauld Dachesse do Doodemoille, Fondatriee de kf. SOCiea 4 Platarelli. Paris: Lacer:Fre at Ole, tle Duchene de Doudeauville, which offers as perfect an example as

could be desired of the best kind of greatness of character allied to worldly grandeur, and of the quiet heroism of a woman simply devoted to her duty from early girlhood to advanced age, for whom the brilliant, frivolous Court, which came to so dismal an end, had no temptations, and the deprivation of all the habitual surroundings of her princely life had no terror.

There were, doubtless, many such among the French noblesse to whom was allotted at the end of the last century the expiation of their forefathers' abuse of all the gifts of fortune and all the

privileges of rank, but the records of many of them are lost in the great tragedies whose last scene was the scaffold.

The very names of the Duchesse de Doudeauville recall whole eras in the history of France. Benigne-Augustine-Franeoise Le Teillier de Louvois de Montmirail was the eldest daughter of that Marquis de Montmirail who was the collaborateur of Buffon in his Ill.stoire Naturale, and who died while serving with his regi- ment, leaving no male heir. A second daughter, born after the father's death, became Madame de Montesquiou, a brilliant queen of society, and gouvernante to the ill-fated son of Napoleon I. The mother of these children was as high-born as their father, and the family alliances spread far and wide among the

aristocracy of France and Italy. The picture gallery at the Chateau de Montmirail is a curious study in gene- alogy now. The eldest girl became, on her father's death, a personage of great importance. " All the seductions that the world has to offer," says the writer, " gathered around the sweet little child, whose beauty was remarkable from her infancy, whose rank was princely and her fortune vast. Those who loved her might well have trembled for her, had not the favourite of earth been also elect of Heaven." The training of the child was most severe ; her mother, though a good, generous, charitable woman, of unblemished reputation, amid the corrupt society of the time, and of great social talents, was extraordinarily tyrannical to her children, and especially to Augustine, who dreaded her greatly. Here is an anecdote of the Duchess's ,childhood, of an experience which probably helped to inspire some of the gentleness and indulgence characteristic of the educational system of the Society of Nazareth which owes its existence to .her :—

" Augustine was very timid and silent in her mother's presence, and there was no part of the stern discipline under which she lived so dreaded by her as the Marquise's Suddenly addressing her in a loud voice with, Speak, Mademoiselle ; say something instantly I' At such an order the child, terrified and confused, would be unable either to speak or think. Its repetition would make her burst into tears. Then .came the invariable order, 'Kneel down in the middle of the room, Mademoiselle, and remain there until you have spoken.' Tim little girl would puzzle her head in vain for something to say, and sometimes the punishment would last over an hour, through her sheer nervousness. She used to tell how, one day, after long search, she found nothing more interesting to say than, There are three splits in tho floor.' Yet, even in her tenderest years, her intelligence was remarkable."

Happily for the child, in her eleventh year she made her terrible mother an inexact answer to a question, in a moment of unusual fright, and was instantly told, " You have lied to me, Made- moiselle, and shall leave my house on the instant ;" then bundled into a carriage, and sent to the Convent of the Visitation, with a bad character, which the nuns soon discovered was entirely undeserved. Here she learned for the first time what care, kind- ness, and happiness meant, and formed a friendship which lasted all their respective lives with Mdllo. de Sinetti, afterwards the celebrated Duchesse de Caderousse. She suffered severely on leaving the convent, and the severity with which she was again treated did not lessen her regret. Her mother made her dine at a side-table as a punishment for having curtseyed awkwardly on -coming into a room, just one week before her marriage, which was arranged, after the fashion of the time, when she was fifteen. Among the possessions which the heiress of Mont- mirail brought her husband was the duchy of Doudeauville, in the Boulonnais, which carried with it the rank of a grandee of Spain of the first class, a privilege destined afterwards to be of great service to the holder of it during his long exile. All the great world busied itself with the question, in which the .Court took a vivid interest, of whom should be chosen by the Marquise do Montmirail as her daughter's husband. The

girl had no mind in the matter ; she would have been a nun, if she had been permitted, but as she was not, she believed that it

was not God's will that she should be, and that he would give her " grace of state " in the way of life which she would not have chosen. So when her mother sternly rejected her appeal to be allowed to remain with her, unmarried, she submissively said that M. de la Rochefoucauld would suit her as well as any one else, since she must marry ; and in the midst of a scene of the utmost magnifi- cence, splendidly attired, and so beautiful that the tradition of her loveliness on the occasion remained long rife in Paris, found herself in the presence of an undergrown boy of fourteen, with a delicate, childish face, and timid, awkward manners, to whom the position was as distasteful as to herself, and more embarrass- ing. They, did not speak to each other then, or on the future occasions when they met, and immediately after the marriage ceremony, which was extremely magnificent, they parted :—

" Ambroise do la Rochefoucauld, thenceforth Due do Doudeauville, delighted that the day, in which he had found nothing to amuse him except the beating of the drums, was over, set out immediately for Versailles, with his tutor, and the young bride of fifteen was handed over to her mother-in-law, the Vioomtesse do la Rochofoucauld, in whose house she was to live, and whose management of her, though very different from that of her mother, was still loss right or wholesome."

Such was the inauspicious beginning of a marriage which lasted fifty-two years, during which the husband and wife experienced almost every grief which can rack human hearts, except that of conjugal disunion ; danger, loss, poverty, parting, long separa- tion, fear, bereavement, the desolation of parents whose children and children's children are taken from them by death, involvement in the misfortunes of the royal family and the political miseries of France, betrayal by the trusted, the violent death of relatives and friends,—all these and other woes were theirs ; but never were marriage vows more sacredly kept, never did two human beings live, in the midst of ungodliness, more godly lives. "The awk- ward boy," says the writer, " at whom the spectators of that imposing ceremony smiled that day, grew up to be in all respects worthy of his high fortune, his great name, and the lofty offices he was afterwards called to fill. Upright, brave, kindly, loyal, generous, and firm, he made his noble wife as happy as any mortal can render a heart which aspires to nothing less than the divine union." During the years of their only nominal marriage, the boy was exposed to infidel influences ; the girl lived in the "philosophical centre" of the Hotel do la Rochefoucauld, and was a star of the first magnitude at the Court, but neither of them lost the faith which was speedily to become their sole support in a time of great and terrible trial. When the young pair met again, and began their brilliant life at the Court of Louis XVI., young like themselves, a true and deep attachment sprang up in each for the other, and the strongest link in it was the ardent and practical piety of both.

The author, whose simple and elegant style is worthy of the ancient fame of the French writers of memoirs, divides the life of the Duchesse do Doudeauville into epochs of moral action, show- ing her to us first as the " Christian woman in the world," then in her " apostolate in the family," when the flood of the Revolution broke in upon the stately homes of France, and overwhelmed alike the innocent and the guilty. She had so brought up her

son and daughter, that these children were strong to moot the trouble as she was, and could not feel fear while by their mother's

side ; she had trained them to perfect confidence in the love and the judgment of their parents, to simple habits (their only luxury was the power of giving largely to the poor), to study of the Holy Scriptures and reverence for the precepts of the Catholic Church, to loyalty to the King, and to a just comprehension of the value and the insufficiency of fortune, The storm burst, but did not sweep them before it ; the Duchess began to reap her harvest of reward. Her husband's father died a Christian death, converted by her ; his mother and his sister also yielded to her influence; and the latter, who, with her uncle, M. do l'Aigle, was guillotined in 1794, testified in her last moments to the debt they all owed to the saintly woman who was then imprisoned, with her children and the widowed Vicomtease. The Duke, who had foreseen the course of the Revolution from the first, had secured his wife's property to herself, apart from his ; and by this wise step the family ruin had been in part averted, for when he joined the Princes and " the Army of the Rhine," and the sepa- ration began whose duration they had so little foreseen, the Duchess was able to preserve some of her possessions. Her own imprisonment did not last long, and her release is a characteristic little story. Being brought before the Revolutionary Tribunal, she was closely interrogated respecting her husband

She replied with the most perfect frankness defending him against every accusation, notwithstanding the signs which her mother-in-law, who trembled at her boldness, made to her. You are, then, grieved by his absence ? she was asked.—' Yes, assuredly, I am.'—' You regret

him, really ? Very, very much.'—' Well, then, eitizoness, I see you are a good woman, and you shall come to no harm.' And in fact, the next day, .when the section hoard the report of the examination, they loudly applauded her for her candour and devotion." The released " aristocrate " devoted herself to the poor, the sick, and the sorrowing, during that terrible time ; she tended her be- reaved mother-in-law, lived with the strictest economy (in after- days, her grandchildren used to talk with wonder of the time when " bonne maman" had not a femme-de-chambre), waiting on, teaching, working for her children, praying for: and loving her absent husband, of whom she heard only at long intervals. Here is a dramatic incident of that time :-

" The AMA d'Etyola was arrested at Bordeaux, on his way to England, and the Duchess was informed of his detention, and that it was con- templated to deport' him to Guiana. She wrote to a person whom she knew, entreating him to aid the AbbE, and to hand him 8,000 franca on her behalf. Her letter, unsigned, was found during a domiciliary visit to the Hotel de Monchy. She was informed of this, and at once pre- sented herself at the audience-chamber of the terrible Fouquier-Tin- ville. He took no notice of her, and she stood patiently for two hours, until all the other persons had been attended to, and she was alone with the Public. Accuser. Then she said, have an important matter to communicate to you.'—' My only business is to punish the enemies of the Republic. What have you to say ? Nothing but denunciations are taken here.'—' It is a denunciation which brings me here.'—' Very well, then, eitizoness, you may speak.'—' The dennneiation I am about to make is an unusual ono ; it is myself, myself only, whom I have to denounce.'—' Then you have come here to find your death?'—' I know that, but I am fulfilling a duty.' He looked at her with surprise, and listened attentively while she told her story, with full details, but without mentioning any names, and ended'by saying simply, ' If any one is to be punished, it is I.' Fouquier-Tinville replied, with evident amazement, ' Do you know, I am a man of feeling, too ? Why are you interested in this priest ?'—' Because he is unfortunate.'—' Oh, yes, I understand that, for I, also, have a tender heart, and have saved many people.' He then assured her that nothing should happen to the Abbe, and seeing that she looked pale and tired, offered her his arm to take her down the staircase. It cost the Duchess a great effort to accept the courtesy, and she could never recall without a shudder the few moments during which her hand rested on the bare arm of Fouquier-Tinville."

She bravely defended her rights when an attempt was made to

confiscate her property, together with that of her thnigrd husband, and succeeded in saving all, even the furniture of the Chateau de Montmirail, which may be seen to this day, in the old-

fashioned, stately array of the period. Once she saw her husband, but only for a few days, and their separation did not come to an end until after the fall of the Directoire. From this point the story of the life of the noble and saintly Duchess is deeply affect- ing. Her daughter, Ernestine, married the Marquis de Rastignac, and died after a brief, happy union, at Montmirail, bequeathing her children to her mother's care. One of her last utterances was, " How happy my daughter will be. She will be brought up by my mother." The story of the daughter's death, and the mother's grief, courage, faith, and resignation forms a chapter of this beautiful book never to be forgotten. From that time the bereaved father and mother led a life of active and far- extending charity, and the Duchess began to meditate the establishment of a religious Society, which should be devoted to the education of girls for the useful, practical, and dutiful home-life for which she had trained her own daughter and destined her grandchildren. She outlived most of her be- loved ones, among them her son's wife ; she outlived her eye- sight and her bodily powers, but her faith, hope, and charity, abode with her to the end ; and the Society of Nazareth, which has now three flourishing establishments in France and four struggling schools in the Holy Land, had taken vigorous root before the vault under the chapel of the convent of Nazareth at Montmirail, whose walls adjoin the park in which the ancient chateau stands, received the body of the venerable duchess. She died in Paris, January 24, ] 840, sitting in her armchair, and surrounded by her grandchildren. One of them, the Duchesse de la Rochefoucauld, had asked her one or two questions, without receiving any reply. At length she said :—" Mother, do you love God perfectly 2" In a strong voice the blind and motionless old lady answered, " Yes," and in another moment ceased to breathe. Monseigneur de Frilly, Bishop of Chalons, writing to the chaplain of Montmirail on the occasion of the Duchess's death says :—" It is a grdat and ines- timable favour when it pleases God to give such examples to the world. We ought to profit by them as far as we can, and at least to learn to what a point it is possible to advance in the way of God, by constant effort, and making it the steady business of every day."