did not wake to call the nuns to matins (at
two A.M.) the prioress herself would perform
the service.

The royal devotee was, at least in one
point, superior to many devotees before
and since. She was very cheerful, and
on the days of recreation allowed to the
Carmelites, always directed the amusements:
especially a lottery, in which the
prizes were prayers to recite, minutes for
meditation, and other works of supererogation.
She especially forbade the Abbé
Bertin, the father superior, to call her in
his letters " madame," or to conclude with
"respectful humble servant." She exerted
herself much, to obtain the beatification
of Mother Ann of Jesus: a Theresan, who
founded the Carmelite Order in France.

Even in the convent, Madame Louisa was
beset by a thousand solicitations.
Deserters wrote to her to obtain pardon, poor
men of talent wrote to her for money.
Disgraced courtiers wrote to her to recover
them their forfeited rank.

The miserable voluptuary, her father,
usually visited the convent once a month,
but he forbade any kind of ceremonial at
his reception, and never brought any of his
attendants inside the doors. Mass, vespers,
or benediction in progress, he attended in
the outer choir, and, when the host was
elevated, wept and prostrated himself on the
pavement. A small apartment was set apart
for his use where he dined, and the nuns
came in to see, with trembling admiration,
their worthy monarch, the lover of the
Pompadour. Often during Lent he brought
the finest of fish as a treat for the convent.
During the king's last illness, the Princess
Louisa sent him a crucifix which she had
received from the pope, and which secured
indulgences even to persons in articulo
mortis. "By this act," said the king,
"I truly know my daughter; pray return
her my thanks!" and he died holding it in
his hands.

His nephew, Louis the Sixteenth, had a
great regard for the princess. The queen,
too, often visited the convent, and brought
her ill-starred children with her. The ever-
watchful nuns observed that, one day one
of the children being restricted in her food,
picked up every crumb with the greatest
care. This is the practice of the Theresans,
and the nuns exclaimed: " This shows
a disposition for the convent." Marie Antoinette
replied courteously, but probably with
entire insincerity: " If God one day gives
her that vocation, I shall not hinder her
from coming to partake of your happiness."
The Empress Maria-Theresa, who
had also a great esteem and affection for
the royal devotee, sent Louisa her portrait
in the Theresan costume. She never spoke
of the heroism of the princess's sacrifice
without admiration. Louis the Fifteenth,
having always promised to rebuild
the church of his daughter's nunnery,
Louis the Sixteenth fulfilled the sacred
engagement. Among the ornaments of the
new church were six silver candlesticks
and a cross, presented by the pope. The
princess, also at a great expense, obtained
for the convent the bodies of several saints.
She particularly insisted during the
rebuilding that the men should not work on

Sundays. The princess spent much time
in opposing the new philosophy of those
days, and in trying to check the license
of the press. She particularly resisted the
reduction of Lent fasts, complaining that
in Paris fourteen holy-days had been
retrenched without the police enforcing the
stricter observance of other festivals: the
shops in Paris being opened even on the
day of the Epiphany.

In 1791 the pope consented to canonise
the Carmelite sister Mother Mary of the
Incarnation, and to proclaim her the
worker of two miracles. The canonisation
of Mother Ann of Jesus, however, though
sought for by Catherine de Medici, and
now by the empress, was deferred: though
several authentic miracles wrought by
Mother Ann were acknowledged by the
cautious pontiff. To all suffering nuns the
princess held out a hand. When the Carmelites
of Brabant and Austrian Flanders were
turned out of their convents, the royal
devotee obtained leave from Louis the
Sixteenth to give them home and shelter. All
she asked in return was to have the bodies
of two Carmelite saints Mother Ann of
Jesus, and Mother Ann of Saint Bartholomew.
Many of these Flemish nuns had
to pass through their native villages on
their way to France, but none of them
visited their fathers or mothers; and such
absurd abnegation was considered a proof
of super-holiness. Two hundred and ninety
of these nuns, whose daily pride was to
tread under foot all natural affection,
arrived in France, with a whole community
of the order of Saint Clare from Ghent.
They prostrated themselves in tears at the
feet of their benefactress, and begged her
acceptance of the only treasure they
possessed a bone of Saint Colette, their
foundress. But the princess refused to
deprive them of this osteological blessing.