Blessed Françoise d'Amboise

The court of John V, who reigned at that time, was a school of the highest vir tues. Saint Vincent F Saint Vincent Ferrier Dominican preacher who was the spiritual guide of Margaret. errer had, through his lessons and examples, caused Christianity to flourish there in all its purity, brilliance, and salutary influence. On the ducal throne, John, surnamed the Good, was the delight of his people, and beside hi m, Joan, his wife Jeanne, son épouse Wife of John V and spiritual adoptive mother of Frances. and daughter of the unfortunate Charles VI, King of France, drew hearts to herself and conquered the veneration of all through her piety, her alms, and her gentle and amiable manners. As the Lord had not given her a daughter, she received Françoise with a truly maternal tenderness and took it upon herself to develop in her the nascent seeds of the virtues that would later reflect upon her entire life. Moreover, "she was such an amiable child! spiritual, naive, easy to direct and lead, of a childlike gravity, full of grace and modesty." She already loved, beyond her years, prayer, the offices of the Church, and the poor. The latter were her favorite friends, and, without yet understanding all their sufferings, she sympathized with them and took pleasure in relieving them. It is said in this regard that one day, having stared at a painting of Saint Francis of Assisi in the church, she returned with a heavy heart and in tears. "As it was very cold, her governess thought that suffering was the cause of her tears. She therefore took her on her lap and, removing her shoes, began to warm her feet by the flame of a good fire. But far from calming down, the child cried out amidst her sobs: Oh! have you not noticed my patron saint and father, Saint Francis, who is barefoot at the cathedral; go and bring him my shoes."

Françoise was then only four years old, and what could one not augur from such happy omens! But the following year was to further increase these beautiful hopes. And indeed, Françoise was already serious, shunning idleness, and trying her hand at spinning, sewing, reading, or writing. The pious duchess served as her teacher in all these things and, moreover, brought her with her to church every day. It was a sweet reward for our young child, for she already understood what guest the tabernacle contained and what victim was being immolated on the altar. How she desired from then on to feed on her God! But she was only five years old! She would therefore have to wait several more years. This thought saddened her deeply and often drew tears and sobs from her, especially on the days when the Duke, the Duchess, and their entire court received Holy Communion. For a long time, no one could understand the cause of such a state. But one day when the Duchess asked her quite maternally the subject of her sorrow: "Oh!" cried the child, "how can you expect me not to weep, when I see my lord and you, and your whole court receiving the body of our Savior, and I alone, for lack of age, am deprived of this good!" This exclamation, so naive in faith and piety, moved Joan to tears, and wiping Françoise's eyes, she kissed them and said to her: "Calm yourself, my little heart, I will see to it that you receive communion this coming All Saints' Day." She spoke of it, indeed, to her confessor, Yves de Ponsal, a Dominican, who was consecrated Bishop of Vannes that same year. This holy religious, recognizing the gift of God in this child already so favored by heavenly blessings, ratified the promise that had been made to her, and Françoise made her first communion at the age of five, on All Saints' Day, 1432.

Undoubtedly, all this deviates from the ordinary paths, but one grasps the secret of it in the event which, less than a year later, was to deprive Françoise of her guide and her second mother. To endure such a loss, one had to be nourished by the bread of the strong. It was therefore in the month of September 1433 that Duchess Joan fell ill. From the first days, her condition appeared alarming; and she herself, feeling that she was dying, called her husband, her children, and the members of her household, and gave each one, along with wise advice, thanks for their affection and their services. Then, she had her little Françoise called; the amiable child had cared for her with a truly filial tenderness and a precocious devotion. Joan thanked her with effusion, said many sweet and beautiful words to her, and then blessed her, recommending to her what was closest to her heart, which was like a debt that she regretted not having been able to discharge, but which she entrusted to another herself—we mean, the care of procuring the canonization of the good Father Vincent Ferrer. Françoise, grave, recollected, flooded with tears, solemnly promised it. Then, in memory of this promise, and as a token of the confidence she carried with her in dying, Joan bequeathed to her a wooden rosary, a gift from the good Father, and upon which she had so devoutly prayed. No one dared to disturb this colloquy; all admired these two beings so detached from all earthly cares: this woman who was leaving for heaven after a long and well-filled life, and this predestined child, who already inhabited it with her heart and thought; these two souls were on a level in an admirable equality of love for God.

The Duchess died on September 20, 1433, and was buried, amidst the regrets and sobs of all, in the choir of the cathedral church of Vannes, opposite the high altar. Shortly after, the Duke left Vannes, which reminded him too much of his past happiness and the sadness of the present, and settled in Nantes with his court, the princes his children, and Françoise, who never left him.

A few months after the arrival of Duke John in Nantes, Françoise, who was reaching her seventh year, was solemnly betrothed to Peter of Brittany, Lord of Guingamp, who was ten years her senior. From that moment, her life became even more modest and serious, and her time was divided between study, visiting churches and the poor, and a few hours of relaxation. It was also observed that she always maintained a gently grave and charming demeanor, which excluded both boredom and frivolity. Moreover, nothing futile or slanderous ever slipped into her conversation; and she preferred to seek out the company of those advanced in the ways of Christian perfection, or those who sought to enter them. But if some action needed to be taken, some money given to smooth over difficulties, or barriers lowered for those aspiring to the cloister and religious life, she was seen to apply herself with ardor. She was thus preparing for her own vocation, and earning its success.

However, Françoise had just reached her fifteenth year, and a new career opened before her with the death of Duke John, who passed away on August 28, 1442, leaving his dear Brittany rich in all kinds of goods, but one of the most precious was certainly the possession of our Blessed one. He was mourned by all, and interred in the choir of the cathedral of Nantes, near Duke John, his father. Francis, Count of Montfort, succeeded him, and on October 30 of the same year, he married Isabeau Stuart, daughter of James I, King of Scotland. On the following December 9, the coronation festivities were celebrated in Rennes with unusual pomp and splendor, and at the end of the ceremony, the Duke was knighted by the Constable of Richemont, his uncle. It was at this same time, and probably in the days that followed, that the wedding of Peter and Françoise took place. The biographers of the Blessed one do not give us a precise date, but they take care to tell us that this solemnity took place in the presence of Duke Francis, the Constable of Richemont, the high barons, and the prelates... They also note a circumstance that we must not pass over in silence: it is that, contrary to the custom received until then, the Blessed Françoise wore a dress of white damask on this day. It was a symbol of her baptismal innocence, and a presage of the chastity she was to keep pure and immaculate. Thus was consummated an alliance that reserved for Brittany serene and prosperous days.

Once all the festivities were over, the young couple came to settle in their appanage, in Guingamp, in the diocese of Tréguier, today the department of Côtes-du-Nord. It is a town pleasantly si tuated i Guingamp Appanage where Françoise lived her first years of marriage. n a beautiful valley surrounded by mountains, on the banks of the Trieux, a source of wealth for the whole country, whether by the freshness it spreads in the countryside or by the port it forms at its mouth, which favors all kinds of commerce. But barely arrived, Peter and Françoise wanted to make a pilgrimage to a famous sanctuary, named Le Folgoët, and dedicated to the Blessed Virgin; for they were eager to place themselves under her special protection, "recognizing," says an old historian, "that she was the wing of their sacred ermines." They therefore founded a mass there for every Saturday of each week, and then visited another place no less revered, which was called Saint-Jean-du-Doigt. It was called so because a notable relic of the holy Precursor was revered there, the finger that had shown the Son of God to men; and as a chapel was being built there at that time, the noble pilgrims contributed to it generously.

Upon returning to Guingamp, Peter began to repair the town and the castle he was to inhabit. A complete enclosure, high granite towers, and an elegant and fortified keep soon made this residence worthy of its guests. A pretty fountain, which brought the gushing waters of a distant spring to the public square, proved furthermore that neither the people nor their needs were forgotten. The region, moreover, is happily cut by plains and wooded hills; the nearby sea, the limpid rivers, and the spacious forests offer varied pleasures. The local nobility, numerous and passionate about hunting, and delighted to see these same tastes in the prince, soon surrounded him, finding in him their natural leader in these pleasures, as at the head of the armies; the deep woods and the echoing mountains resounded daily with the cry of the packs. For their part, the chatelaines descended from their keeps, the simple ladies and damsels from their manors, and they came to Guingamp to gather around their suzerain. They would work together on wool and silk, and often also on humble linen thread for the unfortunate, and modest, spiritual, and never slanderous conversation gently filled the hours. Then, at sunset, when the moment approached that brought back the exhausted hunters, desirous of rest and care, Françoise would come to the front of the castle, and there she would gracefully await her husband. This sweet habit was known, and the people also made it a habit to surround her at that hour. Rich, poor, noble, bourgeois, or peasant, all had access to her, everyone could present their requests to her, speak to her of their fears, their sorrows, their needs, and their joys: she went out to meet their confidences; one only left her happy and consoled.

The days were passing in Guingamp, full, calm, and rapid, when news arrived of the serious disagreements that had just broken out between Francis, Duke of Brittany, and Gilles , his Gilles Brother of Duke Francis I, imprisoned and assassinated. younger brother. Malicious reports on one side, and on the part of Gilles, inconsiderate remarks and real imprudences, led to his arrest by order of the King of France, who, in his capacity as suzerain, had received the Duke's complaints. Taken by force and led to prison in Dinan on June 26, 1446, the unfortunate prince found no other support to defend his liberty and soon his very life than the active and generous efforts of the Blessed Françoise. It is she, indeed, who appears and acts in these sad circumstances. She first warned the Constable, who interposed his authority and good services in vain, then she traveled to Nantes, where the Duke resided, and made him hear in turn the language of truth and that of fraternal friendship. But she met only a closed ear and a cold, insensitive heart. When the Estates of Brittany gathered in Redon to judge the unfortunate prince, she multiplied her efforts, supplications, and devotion on his behalf. It is known that these Estates refused to deliver the head of a brother to a brother, and one cannot doubt that Françoise strongly contributed to strengthening them in duty and justice. But they could only loudly attest to the innocence of the accused, and they did not deliver him from the fratricidal hands that held him captive. Soon these same hands caused him to perish in the horror of a dark dungeon, from hunger and misery. It was in Guingamp, where she had returned with her husband, that our Blessed one received this terrible news; and weeping for the unfortunate man who was no more, she wept even more bitterly for the one who had just renewed the crime of Cain. Moreover, the delays of divine vengeance were rapidly shortened, for forty days had not passed before the murderer appeared before the Lord and rendered an account of the blood shed. But, here again, all the ardor of Christian charity and piety was shown in our Blessed one. As soon as she learned of the Duke's illness, she rushed to Vannes, and seeing that among the courtiers who surrounded him, all flattered him with a chimerical hope, and that no one dared to speak to him of his soul and his eternity, she armed herself with a holy boldness and revealed to him, with the gravity of his state, the impotence of man and the all-powerful mercy of God. Francis understood everything then; he confessed his faults, wept for his crime, and, in order to leave a lasting and public testimony of his repentance, he made, by his will, a foundation in the abbey of Boquen for the repose of his brother's soul. Then, having sent for Peter of Guingamp, he commended his wife and his two daughters, Marguerite and Marie, to him, and finally, turning to his courtiers, he asked their forgiveness for the scandals he had caused. A few days later, he received the sacraments of the Church and died a good Catholic, pronouncing the holy name of Jesus. Françoise assisted him in this arduous work of repentance and death, and softened its laborious trials.

The death of Duke Francis, which occurred on July 17, 1450, called Peter of Guingamp to the throne by virtue of the Salic law; and the latter hastened to inaugurate his reign with the coronation ceremony. This ceremony, so brilliant in its pomp and so full of grave lessons, took place in the cathedral of Rennes at the beginning of August of the same year. Françoise, kneeling near her husband, prayed for him with a fervor all the greater as she better measured the extent of his new duties. She was more frightened than dazzled by them, and she asked God, who imposed them upon her, for the grace to fulfill them well. Moreover, she understood that a large part of these duties was reserved for her, for the role of a woman is never null or erased in a Christian household. Near the throne, as in the humblest homes, her intervention is salutary, and here, it is given to us to observe this blessed influence in action. If Peter was the voice that commands, the arm that executes, Françoise was the intelligence that directs, the counsel that enlightens. She did not seek this role; circumstances required that she take it: it was for the greatest good and for the happiness of all. She fulfilled it with a discretion and a wisdom that make one suspect her presence rather than perceive it behind her husband. And this last trait, which all contemporary authors attest to, is the finest praise of her modesty as well as her prudence. "It is certain, indeed," says one of them, "that the reign of Peter was a glorious reign for the Duke and the nation, happy for the people, fruitful in good and useful enterprises, in reforms wisely made, because he abandoned himself to the guidance of our Saint, who never gave him any counsel that was not inspired from above."

After the coronation festivities, which lasted eight days, Peter and Françoise left Rennes to go to Nantes, where they made their solemn entry on October 12. The streets were strewn with foliage, the houses draped with tapestries, the holy images dressed in their niches as on the greatest feast days of the Church, and the bells rang their most joyful peals. Peter, passing through the Place Saint-Pierre, lit a bonfire that had been prepared there, and entering the church, knelt humbly before the altar. Then, returned to calm and business, he first occupied himself with ensuring the fate of Françoise of Dinan, widow of Prince Gilles, who was languishing without protection and without honor. He had her marry Guy, Sire of Gavre, and this alliance henceforth placed her beyond the reach of the turns of fortune, without causing her to fall from her high position. Here, all historians credit the conclusion of this affair to the care and the truly fraternal solicitude of our Blessed one. They also praise her for having encouraged her husband to seek out his brother's murderers, for to punish crime is to protect virtue. Other cares then occupied her, those of consoling Isabeau Stuart, whom her father, the King of Scotland, was calling back to him. But this princess did not want to separate from a sister whose tenderness and sweet friendship made her greatly love Brittany and softened the sadness of widowhood. Then, she would have had to abandon her two daughters, and her heart could not consent to it. They therefore grew up under the double gaze of their mother and Françoise: and it is easy to augur what the happy results of this double supervision were. But when they had reached the nubile age, our Saint intervened with her husband to procure for them a noble and rich alliance. Marguerite married the Count of Etampes, who was one day to reign over Brittany, and Marie was betrothed to Jean de Rohan. He was then only a child, but the marriage took place later.

The reign of Duke Peter lasted only seven years, but they were seven years well filled for the happiness and prosperity of Brittany. He convened the Estates General on May 25, 1451, and in concert with the three orders that composed them, he published the ordinances known in history under the name of the Constitutions of Peter II. It is a monument of wisdom such that one can offer it without fear to the gaze of the proudest detractors of those times. The Duke also took advantage of these solemn circumstances to propose to the Estates that they proclaim his wife Duchess of Brittany; the unanimous acclamations of all the deputies welcomed this proposal and proved how much everyone considered Françoise as the inspirer of the good that had already been realized, and of that which was still hoped for. Thus was accomplished, with regard to our Blessed one, this word of our holy books: "The works of the strong woman have earned her glory and praise in the assembly of the judges." From that moment also, her influence grew in sweetness and power, "and God," says an old historian, "used this princess for the general reformation of Brittany. For the Duke, her husband, seeing that she was guided by God, followed her counsel, and in all his affairs took her advice. She ensured that bishoprics, abbeys, and parishes were provided with learned and pious people, and procured the reformation of the secular and regular clergy." Her solicitude for the interests of the people was no less lively and pressing. One day, having learned that the Duke, on the proposal of some advisors, was going to establish a new tax, she pointed out the injustice of this act to him and dissuaded him so well that he even abandoned the thought of it. The courtiers murmured, but the people showered her with a thousand blessings. It was also to her prayers that this same people attributed the brilliant and rapid successes that accompanied the arms of the Bretons in the conquest of Guienne. The glory they acquired there, following the French, recalled the high deeds and exploits of the ancient heroes of the province. Now, the Blessed Duchess did not cease, while this expedition lasted, to order processions and public prayers throughout Brittany. One was not far from the time when Joan of Arc had shown what God can do, when He wills it, through the heart and arm of a woman.

However, Brittany, for being governed by Peter and Françoise, Christian princes, did not remain apart from movement and progress. They loved the arts and favored them; and under their protection, these created beautiful and great things everywhere. Letters were also protected, and Meschinot, the renowned poet of those times, was the Duke's cupbearer, who showered him with benefits. Simple and modest in their private life and for their personal needs, they knew, according to circumstances, how to show themselves great and magnificent, and above all, they testified to their friends a grateful affection. Moreover, all their savings were turned into liberality toward the poor, hospices, and religious houses. Their alms were truly royal largesse, and they only considered themselves happy to be rich in order to impoverish themselves by giving. They did not forget either those pious foundations of masses and services for the deceased, foundations almost unknown in our day. They therefore took particular care to multiply them in cathedral churches, monastery chapels, and the sanctuaries of the principal pilgrimages. It is thus that, until the revolution of the last century, the chapter of Nantes had a mass celebrated each day, called the Duke's mass.

It has not been forgotten that our Saint had pledged, at the deathbed of Duchess Jeanne, to procure the canonization of the Blessed Vincent Ferrer. She had worked actively toward this, and in the year 1455, she had the satisfaction of completing this great work. Po pe Callixtus III pape Calliste III Pope who canonized Vincent Ferrer. solemnly placed him in the rank of Saints, and at the request of the Breton princes, sent a legate to proceed with the elevation of the holy relics. This legate, by a choice of exquisite delicacy, was a Breton, Alain de Coëtivy, Archbishop of Avignon and Cardinal of the title of Saint-Praxedes. The ceremony took place with great pomp in the cathedral of Vannes, with the participation of the nine bishops of Brittany, the presence of seven other prelates, all the abbots of the province, and in the midst of an immense crowd. The Duke wished to take charge of all the expenses and provided for them royally. As for our Blessed one, she took for her share the fervor of prayer, confidence in the intercession of the holy religious, and the joy of having accomplished her mission. She also received from the hands of the legate distinguished relics: a finger of Saint Vincent, his doctor's cap, and the belt with which he had been buried. These precious objects seemed to her a reward above all the care and perseverance she had put into obtaining this canonization, and, subsequently, she bequeathed them to the Carmelites of Les Couëts. Thus, the pious efforts of Françoise made the radiance of a new glory and a brilliant halo shine upon the Order of Saint Dominic in the person of the Blessed Vincent Ferrer, and it is sweet for us to attest here that this Order retains a lively gratitude toward her.

Another joy came the following year to gladden the heart of our good Duchess: the foundation in Nantes of a convent of Poor Clares. Various obstacles having delayed the completion of the monastery and the appropriation of the premises, she received them in a wing of the ducal castle, defrayed all their expenses, and gave them, to be at their service, one of her ladies-in-waiting who had the intention of becoming a nun, and she added that if God willed that she should survive her husband, her greatest desire was to end her days in the habit, in their company. These last words referred to the serious illness from which the Duke had been suffering for several months, and of which no one was unaware of the danger. But the more his condition became alarming, the more his sweet wife served and cared for him with a solicitude and devotion that nothing could discourage. Near him all day, the night still found her attentive to his pains. She did not go to bed and only took a few moments of rest on a bench or a rug: this had been going on for nearly a year. She nevertheless wished to attend the enclosure of her beloved nuns, and the ceremony was performed on August 30, 1457, by Bertrand de Coëtenezze, the Duke's chaplain: then, this duty being fulfilled, Françoise returned to take up, beside a bed of pain, her post of tenderness and vigilance. We have been left the names of these first Poor Clares: they were eighteen in number and counted among them several young girls from the highest houses, among others, a Jacqueline d'Amboise, cousin of our Blessed one.

However, the Duke's illness was making frightening progress, and Françoise was able to warn him of it and prepare him for a Christian death. She did not fail in this supreme ministry; but who could recount the conversations, the final outpourings of these hearts united in the love of God! Ah! how much, in these short hours of final farewells, does religion mingle calm, dignity, and consolation! The one who remains moderates their grief by preparing the way to heaven for the one who is departing, and the dying person lets fall from their lips, already consecrated by death, those words full of divine love and sublime hopes, which, no longer being of the earth, are already of heaven. On September 20 of this year 1457, the Duke made a public reading of his will, filled with pious bequests and good memories, then received the sacraments with faith and love, and on Thursday, the 22nd of the same month, in the morning, rendered his soul to God. "He took with him," says a historian, "the regrets of all the orders of the State." What more beautiful eulogy could one give to his memory! He was buried the very next day in the sepulcher he had had built in the choir of the collegiate church. Upon returning from the funeral procession, the sad and inconsolable Françoise retired to her oratory, and, embracing her crucifix, made a vow of continence. From that day, she began to leave the world, everything displeasing her; she took refuge with the daughters of Saint Clare, where she lived moaning and solitary, finding relief and peace only in the holy joys of prayer and in the ardor of divine love.

But while she remained thus with her grief and God in the depths of her retreat, Brittany hailed the accession to the ducal throne of the Count of Richemont, who succeeded his nephew under the title of Arthur III. The ceremo Arthur III Constable and later Duke of Brittany, uncle of Peter II. ny of his coronation, which took place in Rennes on December 6, 1457, and then that of his entry into Nantes, gave rise to sumptuous festivities at which Françoise did not appear, consumed as she was by her tears and deep affliction. No excuse could have been more legitimate, and the new Duke was not offended by her absence. But as he had no children, the reason of state made him keenly desire that our Blessed one should remarry. He approached her on this point first in a friendly manner and by way of insinuation; then, finding her firm and unshakeable, he became irritated by her resistance and wished to triumph over it through rigor and persecution. He flattered himself that a weak woman would soften, or at least break, under this iron hand that had struck down so many proud warriors, and he was unaware that it is not given to man to be strong against God. He therefore seized the revenues of Françoise under various pretexts, took away all the jewels that her husband had bequeathed to her, and reduced her to a hardship that resembled a harsh poverty. Our Blessed one bore everything with heroic patience and rejoiced to suffer for the most beautiful of virtues. She also knew how to forget everything beside a bed of suffering and death. And indeed, Arthur had barely counted a year of reign when, overcome with sorrows, languishing and ill, he saw his victim of yesterday rush to his side, who cared for him with filial tenderness and softened his final moments with everything that a heart animated by ardent charity has of the most ingenious and delicate. God permits such returns. He expired on December 26, 1458, and his end was as his long life had been: simple, strong, Christian, worthy of a soldier. Thus died the Count of Richemont, and thus died another child of noble and Catholic Brittany, General de Lamoricière. Salute to his military glory, and peace to his soul, so devoted to the defense of the Church and its Pontiff. Upon learning of this death, Pius IX wept and prayed. His tears are the immortal honor of the warrior who knew how to deserve them, and this all-powerful prayer opened the entrance to heaven for him. But let us return to Françoise. When the Duke had expired, she closed his eyes and buried him with her own hands. She also took care to have a large number of masses said for the repose of his soul and distributed abundant alms for this same intention. Thus do the Saints take their revenge.

The death of Arthur III, Count of Richemont, called to the throne Francis, Count of Étampes, who was married to Margaret, daughter of Duke Francis II. He was only twenty years old, and he brought to his court that lightness of manners and speech which he had only too well studied and learned at the court of Charles VII. However, he did not lack lessons of example, for while he was entirely occupied with games and festivities in the midst of a lively and ardent youth, the two duchesses, Françoise and Margaret, united in prayer and almsgiving. They were seen walking through the streets of the city, spreading a smile here, a kind word there, and help further on. Everyone wanted to approach them, with that touching familiarity that is established only between a mother and her children. The bashful poor were not forgotten; this visit was one of their respites, and the people, seeing them disappear into the sad and dark quarters of the city, would say: "Our ladies are on a pleasure trip today."

We have said that immediately after the death of the Duke, her husband, Françoise had retired to the Poor Clares. But she had been unable to bear their austerities, and she had to return to the ducal palace. Doubtless, she resigned herself to the divine will, and yet she sighed incessantly at the memory of the cloister she had glimpsed, and of those sisters who inhabited it, all united in the same sentiment of self-abnegation and pure love. It was at the height of these sadnesses and regrets that God, who had His own designs, caused her to meet the blessed Father Je an Soreth, General of the Ca bienheureux Père Jean Soreth Prior General of the Carmelites who guided Françoise toward the Carmelite Order. rmelites. This holy religious, to whom she opened her heart and her profound disgust for the world, consoled her as best he could, spoke to her of the Carmelite nuns who were in the land of Liège, and spoke so well of them that Françoise formed, from that moment, the plan to found a monastery of this Order in Brittany. She therefore begged him to send her some sisters as soon as possible to populate it. Father Soreth promised it, and after a conversation full of the spirit of God, he withdrew in great admiration of the holiness of this princess. Meanwhile, she, keenly impatient, hastened to write to these good nuns who had been promised to her, and sent for them to visit on her behalf. On the other hand, she obtained the necessary permissions from Rome and bought, in Vannes, a site Vannes Birthplace of Saint Emilion. called Le Bon-Don, suitable for building a monastery. One last difficulty remained: the consent of the Duke. She asked for it, and renewing requests that were at first fruitless, she finally snatched it as if by force. The finger of God was already showing itself in this whole affair. Thus Françoise, who had moved to Vannes to speed up the construction of the convent, gathered around her some young women of good family, among whom were three of her nieces, and under the direction of Father de la Nuée, a Carmelite religious, they all learned the constitutions of the Order, the chant, and the ceremonies. As for our Blessed one, she applied herself above all to meditation and practiced the greatest austerities. Three times a week she fasted; she always wore a coarse hair shirt on her bare skin, and every day she took two bloody disciplines.

However, Françoise could not forget her beloved poor, and in Vannes, as in Nantes, she gathered them at her table every Friday and served them herself. She also visited the hospitals, and such was her attraction for this charitable exercise that a moment after leaving the Poor Clares, she hesitated as to whether she should not dedicate herself to the care of the sick at the Hôtel-Dieu in Paris. But the Lord had marked her place in Carmel; Françoise understood this, and how her vows hastened the day when she could settle there! Thus, as soon as a part of the buildings was habitable, she moved in with her companions, and they all began from then on, that is to say around 1461, to follow the customs of the Order. They ate in the refectory, slept in a common dormitory, recited the office, kept the fasts and silences, said their "coupe," frequented the sacraments, and went out only very rarely. Time passed in the midst of these works, and it would have passed quickly if they had not been impatiently awaiting the Carmelite nuns from Liège. Finally, they arrived, God having pity on His servant, and on the eve of All Saints' Day, 1463, they made their entry into Vannes. The Duchess, followed by the nobility, the notables, and a great crowd of people, went out a long way to meet them. The arrivals were nine in number, seven choir ladies and two lay sisters. Through the care of Françoise, apartments had been prepared for them at the ducal castle, and they remained there until December 21. On that day, the Father General, Jean Soreth, assisted by the Vicar General of Vannes, introduced them into their convent, which received the name of the Monastery of the Three Marys of Le Bon-Don. With what happiness Françoise presented the keys to the prioress and helped to ring the bell for the first time! How she would have liked to be able, from that day on, to break completely with the world! Doubtless, in her soul it was done, but her body still seemed to belong to it. The interests of her monastery required it, and she resigned herself to it. She therefore had to retire, very sad, into a small building she had reserved for herself, outside the enclosure. However, she attended the community offices, took her meals with the sisters, was present at chapter meetings, said her "coupe" there like the others, and served in the kitchen in her turn: no novice was more humble, more eager for reprimands, for rough and menial work. The sisters, long accustomed to this discipline, could not admire enough the ardor and perfection of this newcomer, who was already eclipsing all the others.

Four years were necessary for our Blessed one to secure the foundation of her monastery and to break for herself all the ties that, day by day, tightened their knots and embraces more strongly. The difficulties of business and travel, and the demands of time and money, did not seem to her the most arduous and thorny. For she had to fight again against Duke Francis, who had withdrawn his consent, and even had to brave the wrath of Louis XI, who, in his capacity as suzerain, had arranged a second marriage for her. He spoke t Louis XI King of France who enriched the reliquary of the Innocents in Paris. o her about it himself, in Nantes, during a trip he made to Brittany, and beneath the courtesy of his language, let the imperative tone of command show through. But everything was useless, caresses and threats; and all the power of a King of France, no less than all the insidiousness of a Louis XI, failed before the firmness of a woman. Finally, the day when she could say an eternal farewell to the world dawned with the anniversary of the day when the Son of God became incarnate, for our salvation, in the chaste womb of Mary. Thus, on March 25, 1469, Françoise came to present herself in the convent chapel and knelt before the high altar. She was in mourning clothes, having never taken them off, carried a white wax candle in her hand, and near her stood four ladies-in-waiting. The officiant was Brother Yves de Ponsal, Bishop of Vannes, the same Dominican who had initiated her into the happiness of the Christian life through the anticipated favor of her first communion, and who was going to introduce her into the bliss of the religious life through the much-desired imposition of the holy habit. The history of monastic vocations often offers us this happy encounter of a son of Saint Dominic and a virgin of Carmel.

But what touching memories and what tender thoughts must have filled the heart of the humble postulant and the soul of the religious Pontiff then: "My daughter," he said to her with an moved voice, "what do you ask?" — "I ask," she replied, "for the poverty and society of the sisters of the sacred Order of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel, under perpetual enclosure." Then the Reverend Father Jean Soreth gave a pious and learned instruction on the duties of the religious life, and then the Bishop resumed: "You have heard, my daughter: do you wish, willingly and with perseverance, to subject yourself to the burdens of religion?" — "I do so wish," she replied. The Prelate read a prayer; he blessed the dark-colored tunic, a reminder of the shroud of the God-Man; the scapular, emblem of the sweet and light yoke of the Lord; the belt, symbol of the battles; the white mantle, sign of the purity, simplicity, and love of the spouses of Christ; the rosary, garlands of enthusiastic greetings that all Christians address to the mystical rose of the gardens of heaven; the veil, finally, that impassable barrier to the world, of which God alone is the strength. The novice was stripped of her secular clothes and clothed in this livery; she was sprinkled as a sacred monument, and, behind the grille, the choir sang the story of the wise and prudent virgins who had become the fortunate spouses of the celestial lover of souls.

After the Mass, at which Françoise received communion, she advanced, preceded by the cross and followed by her witnesses, toward the enclosure door. The nuns were waiting for her there. The prioress contemplated her with tenderness, her voice repeating, with that sweet chant of Carmel that recalls that of the dove in the depths of the woods, this pious verse: *Elegi abjectam esse in domo domini mei Jesu Christi*. Two nuns, like two messenger angels, detached themselves from the gathered group; they made this call resound: *Veni, sponsa Christi!* "Come, spouse of Christ!" This motet was finished, and while the Bishop read a prayer, the Blessed one fell at the feet of the prioress. The latter raised her, kissed her with charity, and placed a crown of thorns on her head, the crown of the spouses of the Lamb, and the door closed again. With Françoise, the four young ladies who accompanied her received the habit and entered into religion. The poor were also not forgotten, and they had a banquet that day. Thus did Françoise d'Amboise leave the world, and thus, according to the expression of an old Breton author, "this phoenix of holiness, among all the ladies of France, became a chaste turtledove, retired to the flowering desert of Mount Carmel to moan there for the rest of her days."

But while Françoise savored in solitude all the charms of religious life, and redeemed, through the obedience and humility of the cloister, the rank and honors she had enjoyed, Marguerite of Brittany was fading away, isolated and silent, at the cheerful castle of Nantes. A pale victim of her husband's indifference, she had, slowly and without noise, leaned toward the grave, as a flower without sun languishes and withers. Her will, dated September 22, 1469, is imbued with piety and Christian resignation. She names our Blessed one in it, and bequeaths to her, as a token of gratitude and affection, a diamond heart and a gold chain. It was a gift from Duke Francis, in times past, when he loved her. A few other names are still read in this same will, and they are the names of devoted friends, or faithful servants, but they are few in number. One feels that misfortune is there, and where there is misfortune, there are not many friends. Three days later, she died, mourned by the people who loved her, and was buried in the church of the Carmelite Fathers. Françoise wept for her as she had loved her, that is to say with a truly maternal tenderness, and, continuing a lively solicitude for her, she multiplied prayers, masses, and communions for the rest of her soul. Here arises a reflection that, every day, still finds its opportunity. Which of the two princesses appeared to the eyes of the world to have chosen the better part, and to be the happiest? The appearance was for Marguerite and the reality for Françoise. It is because one inhabited a palace and the other a cloister. Will the world ever want to understand it?

However, our Blessed one had just made her solemn profession in the hands of Father Jean Soreth, on March 25, 1470, and had received the imposition of the black veil from the Bishop of Vannes. This irrevocable consecration of herself to the Lord became for her a new motive to advance in religious perfection, and an ancient author observes on this subject, and with reason, that she walked there rapidly, because "she was so stripped of her own sense and will, that she did nothing except by obedience or with superiors." It was therefore by their permission that, after the death of Marguerite of Brittany, she took the initiative for a second marriage for Duke Francis, who had had no children from her. The holiness of morals, the dignity of the family, the honor of the homeland, and the heredity of the throne imperiously demanded a noble, illustrious, and Christian alliance. Everyone admitted it, the Duke himself, and yet it required, to succeed, all the influence that age, kinship, and holiness gave to Françoise. The wife she presented to him was Marguerite of Foix, daughter of Gaston IV, Count of Foix and Bigorre, and sovereign prince of Béarn. All of Brittany applauded such a choice, and transferred its gratitude to our Blessed one. The marriage was celebrated at the Château de Clisson, on June 26, 1474; but Françoise, faithful to the rules of the enclosure, did not attend. Besides, what did the festivities of the world matter to her! She had just entered the fifth year of her profession, and found herself from day to day happier in this life of silence and oblivion, when her sisters elected her prioress. She was devastated by it, and, kneeling down, begged that such a heavy burden not be imposed on her. But, as one might well think, the election was maintained, and Françoise took office. How attentive she showed herself to the needs of her dear flock! How devoted, gentle, and humble she was! She persuaded herself that until then she had lived only for herself alone, when her life had been consecrated to all those who had claimed little or much from it, and she told herself that she now had to live for the daughters that God gave her in charge. None was more severe with herself, more benevolent toward others: to love God and neighbor, such was her motto and the rule of her actions.

Buried in the silence and solitude of her monastery of the Three Maries, Françoise thought only of ending her penitent and laborious career there in peace. But Providence had marked her tomb at the gates of Nantes, and it was around this time that she declared her designs. S he use Nantes Episcopal city and principal site of the saint's cult. d for this the Princess Marguerite of Foix, Duchess of Brittany. And, indeed, the latter having come to visit our Blessed one, was so edified by her conversation, and understood her rare merit so well, that she resolved to attract her to Nantes, in order to enjoy her advice and good counsel more easily. The opportunity did not take long to present itself. Very close to Nantes, and on the left bank of the Loire, a priory of Benedictines, named Notre-Dame des Couëts, left much to be desired regardi ng both fervor and re Notre-Dame des Couëts Benedictine priory reformed into a Carmelite convent by Françoise. gularity. Moreover, the number of nuns, reduced to seven, was no longer sufficient for the divine office, and these considerations appeared favorable to the project of obtaining from the Holy See the translation of this monastery from the Order of Saint Benedict to that of Carmel. The Duke therefore referred it to Pope Sixtus IV, who, after ample information, enjoin ed the Blesse pape Sixte IV Pope who authorized the reform of the Couëts. d Françoise to come and reform Les Couëts and the Benedictines to submit to her direction, if they did not prefer to retire to the Abbey of Saint-Sulpice in Rennes, on which the priory depended. Moreover, the Sovereign Pontiff did not forget their temporal interests, and assigned them a pension on the revenues of the suppressed convent, but he demanded a prompt and entire submission.

These apostolic letters are from the year 1476, and in the month of December, Françoise and nine of her nuns left the monastery of the Three Maries of Bon-Don. The entire population of Vannes, dismayed by this departure, besieged the doors of the convent, and cried out that it did not want to lose the Saint. Thus, when Françoise appeared, it was a general explosion of cries and tears. On the other hand, the liveliest transports greeted her in Nantes, and, in the middle of a crowd that pressed her with its respectful and enthusiastic waves, she arrived, with her sisters, at the Château de la Tour-Neuve, where the Duke and Duchess were waiting for them. What a meeting and what memories! The coarse cloth of Carmel and the white mantle of the prophet Elijah contrasted singularly with the gold and ermine of the dukedom; but she who wore the holy liveries of poverty appeared only the more beautiful to all eyes. And above all, what an eloquent lesson on the vanities of the world and the happiness of the religious profession! The final formalities for taking possession of the monastery of Les Couëts were not entirely completed until December 20, and it was on Christmas Day itself that Françoise entered it. It was there that she was to live a few more years of the life of the Saints, and die the death of the Saints. Thus she could say while crossing the threshold of the door: Here is the place of my rest. Moreover, no place was more favorably disposed for recollection and prayer. On one side, the Loire fertilized with its beautiful waters a meadow where herds grazed, the horizon was pushed far away by the river and the dark woods, which crowned the hills of Miséry, were lost in the blue of the sky; on the other, the monastery was surrounded by the forests full of mysteries of the Pays de Retz. One was lost in their collected shadows, and the ear, in this silence of all human voice, heard only the song of birds, the moaning of the great winds in the woods, or the vague sound of waters flowing incessantly, an image of life: the soul blossomed in this calm, it abandoned itself to pious thoughts, and when the bell rang for the offices, silent prayer formulated itself and came of its own accord to rest on the lips.

But while entirely devoted to her duties as prioress, Françoise brought silence, psalmody, and regularity back to Les Couëts, her sisters, who had remained at Bon-Don, lived in sadness and tears: regretting their mother, nothing could console them. They therefore resolved to attempt an enterprise, which God was pleased to bless; they employed their friends, had them write to the Pope, and obtained the union of their monastery with that of Les Couëts. What joy at this news, and how prompt they were to leave! They rushed eagerly to Françoise, just as a swarm of bees, separated by storms, hastens and takes refuge in the common hive when the calm has returned. Assuredly, nothing could be sweeter to the loving heart of Françoise than this reunion, which took place in the year 1480. Continued in office by the express order of the superiors, and a vigilant, energetic, and tender mother, she knew how to lift up the weak, moderate indiscreet zeal, and awaken, if necessary, the heart asleep before God. It is thus that she called to Les Couëts Father Alain de la Roche, a famous Dominican, so that he might establish there the excellent devotion of the Holy Rosary. This fact attests once again how much Mary loves these two Orders, and how much she likes to employ them simultaneously. However, here below, joy is almost always a messenger of sorrow, and our Blessed one experienced it through the death of Father Jean Soreth, who passed away in Angers, on July 25, 1481. It was a great loss for Françoise. She wept for him as a father, and invoked him as a Saint; and during the four years that she survived him, she applied herself to rooting the spirit of Carmel so strongly in her house that it was able to maintain itself there without ever falling from its first fervor.

Moreover, the end of her pilgrimage was approaching, and she was to meet it in the exercise of charity. One of the sisters was struck by a contagious disease. The Blessed one did not leave the duty of caring for her to anyone; she did it with her ordinary devotion, she consoled her, and when all hope of recovery was lost, she assisted her, and received her last breath. A few days later, feeling herself struck by the same illness, she did not deceive herself; but greeting the approach of deliverance with joy, she went up to the infirmary: it was Saturday, October 28, 1483. The progress of the illness soon appeared so frightening that on Thursday, November 3, she received the last sacraments; and around the middle of the night, she had the whole community called. The sisters being gathered around her funeral bed, the dying woman first accused herself of the bad examples she had given them, and humbly asked their pardon for them. Then, as they answered her only with sobs, she added these words, which have been preserved for us: "I beg you, above all things, see that God is better loved. Be humble, benign, gentle and charitable, chaste and obedient; love one another, cherish peace, union and concord; be loyal to God, firm, constant and persevering in the observance of your profession... Farewell, my daughters, I am now going to experience what it is to love God: I surrender myself to him." Françoise had ceased speaking while they were still listening to her; and the sisters, bowed and silent, asked for her blessing. Then, raising her dying hand, she blessed them, and then only the sighs of the sick woman and her interrupted prayers, the sobs of the nuns, and the recitation of holy orisons were heard. Thus passed the hours of the night and those of the day, until around noon. Françoise then asked that the Stabat Mater be recited to her, and that the Gospel of the Passion be read to her. She followed the words with silent recollection, when, toward the end, it was noticed that she was entering her agony. The sub-prioress then began the commendation of the soul, and as she pronounced these words: "Depart, Christian soul, may your place be today in the place of peace, and your dwelling in holy Sion," our Blessed one, being fifty-eight years old, returned her beautiful soul to God, on Friday, November 4, at three o'clock in the afternoon. How sweet is this death, and who would not wish, to die thus, to die in a religious habit! One would try in vain to paint the grief of the nuns of Les Couëts, nor that of the inhabitants of Nantes. They wanted to possess the body of Françoise, and they claimed it insistently: but the nuns, who never consented to deprive themselves of such a precious treasure, buried her at the entrance of the Chapter.

Blessed Françoise is characterized in popular art primarily by the ermine of Brittany on her mantle and by the duchess's crown placed near her, or which she seems to be setting down on the ground. Sometimes she is depicted wearing the habit of the Carmelites, with the insignia of her former dignity placed at her feet.

## CULT AND RELICS.

Seven years after the death of Françoise, her holy body having been raised from the earth, was found in a perfect state of preservation, and replaced in a corner of the chapter house, in such a way that the foot of the tomb corresponded to the lower part of the church, under the rood screen of the grille, so that the public would have access to it. An epitaph was also engraved there containing the name and given names of the Blessed, and the date of her death. From then on, this place became like a pious pilgrimage, and the people began to invoke the good duchess. During the Wars of Religion, the Carmelites of Les Couëts, forced to leave their convent, placed these precious relics out of reach of any profanation, and as soon as calm was restored, they replaced them in the tomb. New miracles occurred on this occasion, and litanies and other prayers were composed in honor of our Blessed. But, as no decision from the Holy See had yet sanctioned this popular cult, the bishops and the Estates of Brittany made pressing requests to it on this subject in the year 1759, and three years later, the Bishop of Nantes, Pierre Mauclerc de la Mazauchère, proceeded with a legal inquiry. However, no action was taken on this matter, and the only good that resulted from it was the confirmation of the respect and veneration of which the memory and relics of the Blessed had never ceased to be the object. Soon arrived the disastrous days of '93, and with them persecution and spoliation. Under the pretext that the reliquary was made of gilded silver, the directory of Nantes ordered the opening of the tomb; but only a lead reliquary was found, and the bones were thrown pell-mell with other debris. As for the nuns, they had been expelled from the convent, and it was only with great difficulty that they managed to re-enter furtively to collect these precious remains. The head had been separated from the trunk, and they found it intact. They reunited it with other bones, and managed, through a thousand industrious precautions, to hide them during the revolutionary turmoil. In 1828, Mme Goguet de la Salmonière, the last surviving nun of Les Couëts, and the last possessor of these relics, deposited them with the Ladies of the Grande-Providence in Nantes, and it is there that they were solemnly recognized by Mgr Jacquemet, Bishop of that city. This prelate, zealous for everything that might interest the glory of his diocese, obtained from Rome, on July 16, 1863, the recognition of the immemorial cult of Blessed Françoise, and the authorization to celebrate her feast on November 5.

Due to various circumstances, it was not until 1865 that the diocese of Nantes rendered for the first time to our Blessed all the honors of a public cult, through a solemn triduum that took place in the chapel of the Carmelites of Nantes. The following year, the Bishop of Nantes celebrated the beatification of the holy duchess with a feast to which he invited all the bishops of Brittany. It was a renewal for the humble Françoise of the pomp and glory with which she herself had surrounded the canonization of Saint Vincent Ferrer.

We owe this biography to the Abbé Dachassalog, honorary canon of Angoulême, who extracted it from the Life of the Blessed, by the Viscount of Kernabieu.

VIES DES SAINTS. — TOME XIII. 12