Drma 
 
 al 
 
 7
 
 MADAME ROLAND.
 
 of ttristorg 
 
 Madame Roland 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN S. C. ABBOTT 
 
 WITH ENGRAVINGS 
 
 NEW YORK AND LONDON 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 
 1904
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand 
 eight hundred and fifty, by 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District 
 ol New 1'ork. 
 
 Copyright, 1878, by JANE W. ABBOTT.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE history of Madame Roland embraces 
 the most interesting events of the French Rev- 
 olution, that most instructive tragedy which 
 time has yet enacted. There is, perhaps, con- 
 tained in the memoirs of no other woman so 
 much to invigorate the mind with the desire 
 for high intellectual culture, and so much to 
 animate the spirit heroically to meet all the 
 ills of this eventful life. Notwithstanding 
 her experience of the heaviest temporal ca- 
 lamities, she found, in the opulence of her 
 own intellectual treasures, an unfailing re- 
 source. These inward joys peopled her sol- 
 itude with society, and dispelled even from 
 the dungeon its gloom. I know not where 
 to look for a career more full of suggestive 
 thought.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter Pag* 
 
 I. CHILDHOOD 12 
 
 II. YOUTH 33 
 
 HI. MAIDENHOOD 57 
 
 IV. MARRIAGE 80 
 
 V. THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY 105 
 
 VI. THE MINISTRY OF M. ROLAND 130 
 
 VII. MADAME ROLAND AND THE JACOBINS 155 
 
 VIII. LAST STRUGGLE OF THE GIRONDISTS 178 
 
 IX. ARREST OF MADAME ROLAND 201 
 
 X. FATE OF THE GIRONDISTS 224 
 
 XI. PRISON LIFE 252 
 
 til. TRIAL AND EXECUTION OF MADAME ROLAND.. 277
 
 ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 MADAME ROLAND Frontispiece. 
 
 THE VISIT 42 
 
 LA PLATIERE 97 
 
 ROBESPIERRE 116 
 
 THE LIBRARY 146 
 
 EXECUTION OF THE GIRONDISTS 247 
 
 MADAME ROLAND IN PRISON 259 
 
 EXECUTION OF MADAME ROLAND.- . 301
 
 MADAME ROLAND 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Character* developed by the French Revolution. Madu* Roland 
 
 "V/TANY characters of unusual grandeur were 
 -L'-I- developed by the French Revolution. 
 Among them all, there are few more illustri- 
 ous, or more worthy of notice, than that of Ma- 
 dame Roland. The eventful story of her life 
 contains much to inspire the mind with admi- 
 ration and with enthusiasm, and to stimulate 
 one to live worthily of those capabilities with 
 which every human heart is endowed. No per- 
 son can read the record of her lofty spirit and 
 of her heroic acts without a higher appreciation 
 of woman's power, and of the mighty influence 
 one may wield, who combines the charms of a 
 noble and highly-cultivated mind with the fas- 
 cinations of female delicacy and loveliness. To 
 understand the secret of the almost miraculous 
 influence she exerted, it is necessary to trace 
 her career, with some degree of minuteness.
 
 14 MADAME ROLAND. [J754 
 
 Orttlen Phllppon. Ill* npimngt at bin lot 
 
 from the cradle to the hour of her sublime and 
 heroic death. 
 
 In the year 1754, there was living, in an ob- 
 aoure workshop in Paris, on the crowded Quai 
 Jes Orfevres, an engraver by the name of Gra- 
 tien Phlippon. He had married a very beau 
 tiful woman, whose placid temperament and 
 cheerful content contrasted strikingly with the 
 restlessness and ceaseless repinings of her hus- 
 oand. The comfortable yet humble apartments 
 of the engraver were over the shop where he 
 plied his daily toil. He was much dissatisfied 
 with his lowly condition in life, and that his 
 family, in the enjoyment of frugal competence 
 alone, were debarred from those luxuries which 
 were so profusely showered upon others. Bit- 
 terly and unceasingly he murmured that his lot 
 had been cast in the ranks of obscurity and of 
 unsparing labor, while others, by a more fortu- 
 nate, although no better merited destiny, were 
 born to ease and affluence, and honor and lux- 
 ury. This thought of the unjust inequality in 
 man's condition, which soon broke forth with 
 all the volcanic energy of the French Revolu- 
 tion, already began to ferment in the bosoms of 
 the laboring classes, and no one pondered these 
 wide diversities with a more restless spirit, or
 
 1754.] CHILDHOOD. 16 
 
 Views of Phllppon. His hcstiUty to tbe Chunk 
 
 murmured more loudly and more incessantly 
 than Phlippon. When the day's toil was end- 
 ed, he loved to gather around him associates 
 whose feelings harmonized with his own, and 
 to descant upon their own grievous oppression 
 and upon the arrogance of aristocratic great- 
 ness. With an eloquence which often deeply 
 moved his sympathizing auditory, and fanned to 
 greater intensity the fires which were consum- 
 ing his own heart, he contrasted their doom of 
 sleepless labor and of comparative penury with 
 the brilliance of the courtly throng, living in 
 idle luxury, and squandering millions in the 
 amusements at Versailles, and sweeping in 
 charioted splendor through the Champs Ely see. 
 Phlippon was a philosopher, not a Christian. 
 Submission was a virtue he had never learned, 
 and never wished to learn. Christianity, as he 
 saw it developed before him only in the power- 
 ful enginery of the Roman Catholic Church, 
 was, in his view, but a formidable barrier 
 against the liberty and the elevation of the peo- 
 ple a bulwark, bristling with superstition and 
 bayonets^ behind which nobles and kings were 
 securely intrenched. He consequently became 
 as hostile to the doctrines of the Church as he 
 was to the institutions of the state. The moo-
 
 16 MADAME ROLAND. [1754. 
 
 Orifia of the French Revolution. Character of Madame Phttppo* 
 
 arch was, in his eye, a tyrant, and God a delu- 
 sion. The enfranchisement of the people, in his 
 judgment, required the overthrow of both the 
 earthly and the celestial monarch. In these 
 ideas, agitating the heart of Phlippon, behold 
 the origin of the French Revolution. They 
 were diffused in pamphlets and daily papers in 
 theaters and cafes. They were urged by work- 
 men in their shops, by students in their closets. 
 They became the inspiring spirit of science La 
 encyclopedias and reviews, and formed the cho- 
 rus in all the songs of revelry and libertinism 
 These sentiments spread from heart to heart, 
 through Paris, through the provinces, till France 
 rose like a demon in its wrath, and the very 
 globe trembled beneath its gigantic and indig- 
 nant tread. 
 
 Madame Phlippon was just the reverse of her 
 husband. She was a woman in whom faith, 
 and trust, and submission predominated. She 
 surrendered her will, without questioning, to all 
 thf teachings of the Church of Rome. She was 
 placid, contented, and cheerful, and, though un 
 inquiring in her devotion, undoubtedly sincere 
 in her piety. In every event of life she recog- 
 nized the overruling hand of Providence, and 
 feeling that -the comparatively humble lot a
 
 1754.] CHILDHOOD. 1? 
 
 Birth of Jane Maria. Adored by hr parent* 
 
 gigned her was in accordance with the will of 
 God, she indulged in no repinings, and envied 
 not the more brilliant destiny of lords and la- 
 dies. An industrious housewife, she hummed 
 the hymns of contentment and peace from morn- 
 ing till evening. In the cheerful performance 
 of her daily toil, she was ever pouring the balm 
 of her peaceful spirit upon the restless heart of 
 her spouse. Phlippon loved his wife, and often 
 felt the superiority of her Christian tempera 
 ment. 
 
 Of eight children born to these parents, one 
 only, Jeanne Manon, or Jane Mary, survived 
 the hour of birth. Her father first received her 
 to his arms in 1754, and she became the object 
 of his painful and most passionate adoration. 
 Her mother pressed the coveted treasure to her 
 bosom with maternal love, more calm, and deep, 
 and enduring. And now Jane became the cen- 
 tral star in this domestic system. Both parents 
 lived in her and for her. She was their earth- 
 ly all. The mother wished to train her for the 
 Church and for heaven, that she might become 
 an angel and dwell by the throne of God. 
 These bright hopes gilded a prayerful mother's 
 hours of toil and care. The father bitterly re- 
 Dined Why should his bright and beautifu, 
 182
 
 18 MADAME ROLAND. [1750. 
 
 Discontent of I'hllppon. Hi* complaining! to hl chll* 
 
 child who even in these her infantile yoari 
 was giving indication of the most brilliant in- 
 telleot why should she be doomed to a life of 
 obscurity and toil, while the garden of the Tuil- 
 eries and the Elysian Fields were thronged 
 with ehildren, neither so beautiful nor so intel- 
 ligent, who were reveling in boundless wealth, 
 and living in a world of luxury and splendor 
 which, to Phlippon's imagination, seemed more 
 alluring than any idea he could form of heaven ? 
 These thoughts were a consuming fire in the 
 bosom of the ambitious father. They burned 
 with inextinguishable flame. 
 
 The fond parent made the sprightly and fas- 
 oinating child his daily companion. He led her 
 by the hand, and confided to her infantile spirit 
 all his thoughts, his illusions, his day-dreams. 
 To her listening ear he told the story of the ar- 
 ogance of nobles, of the pride of kings, and of 
 t.He oppression by which he deemed himsr.lf un- 
 justly doomed to a life of penury and toil. The 
 light-hearted child was often weary of these 
 complainings, and turned for relief to the pla- 
 cidity and cheerfulness of her mother's mind. 
 Here she found repose a soothing, calm, and 
 holy submission. Still the gloom of her father's 
 spirit oast a~pensive shade over her own feel-
 
 1755.J CHILDHOOD. 19 
 
 Karly traits of character. LOT* of bocka 
 
 ings, and infused a tone of melancholy and an 
 air of unnatural reflection into her character. 
 By nature, Jane was endowed with a soul of 
 unusual delicacy. From early childhood, all 
 khat is beautiful or sublime in nature, in litera- 
 ture, in character, had charms to rivet her en- 
 tranced attention. She loved to sit alone at 
 her chamber window in the evening of a sum- 
 mer's day, to gaze upon the gorgeous hues of 
 sunset. As her imagination roved through 
 those portals of a brighter world, which seemed 
 thus, through far-reaching vistas of glory, to be 
 opened to her, she peopled the sun-lit expanse 
 with the creations of her own fancy, and often 
 wept in uncontrollable emotion through the in 
 fluence of these gathering thoughts. Books 
 of impassioned poetry, and descriptions of he- 
 roic character and achievements, were her es- 
 pecial delight. Plutarch's Lives, that book 
 which, more than any other, appears to be the 
 incentive of early genius, was hid beneath her 
 pillow, and read and re-read with tireless avid- 
 ity Those illustrious heroes of antiquity be- 
 eame the companions of her solitude and of her 
 hourly thoughts. She adored them and loved 
 diem as her own most intimate personal friends. 
 Her character became insensibly molded to
 
 26 MADAME ROLAND [1757 
 
 Unfli thlrs* tor roviing. Bar ton at fewer* 
 
 their forms, and she was inspired with restless 
 enthusiasm to imitate their deeds. When but 
 twelve years of age, her father found her, one 
 day, weeping that she was not born a Roman 
 maiden. Little did she then imagine that, by 
 talent, by suffering, and by heroism, she was 
 to display a character the history of which 
 would eclipse the proudest narratives in Greek 
 or Roman story. 
 
 Jane appears never to have known the frivol- 
 ity and thoughtlessness of childhood. Before 
 she had entered the fourth year of her age she 
 knew how to read From that time her thirst 
 for reading was so great, that her parents found 
 no little difficulty in furnishing her with a suf- 
 ficient supply. She not only read with eager- 
 ness every book which met her eye, but pur- 
 sued this uninterrupted miscellaneous reading 
 to singular advantage, treasuring up all import- 
 ant facts in her retentive memory. So entire- 
 ly absorbed was she in her books, that the only 
 successful mode of withdrawing her from them 
 was by offering her flowers, of which she was 
 passionately fond. Books and flowers contin- 
 ued, through all the vicissitudes of her life, even 
 till the hour_of her death, to afford her the most 
 exquisite pleasure. She had no playmates, and
 
 1760.] CHILDHOOD. 21 
 
 Jane'i personal appearance. Thirst for knowledga 
 
 thought no more of play than did her father and 
 mother, who were her only and her constant 
 companions. From infancy she was accustom 
 ed to the thoughts and the emotions of mature 
 minds. In personal appearance she was, in ear- 
 liest childhood and through life, peculiarly in- 
 teresting rather than beautiful. As mature 
 years perfected her features and her form, there 
 was in the contour of her graceful figure, and 
 her intellectual countenance, that air of thought- 
 fulness, of pensiveness, of glowing tenderness 
 and delicacy, which gave her a power of fasci- 
 nation over all hearts. She sought not this 
 power ; she thought not of it ; but an almost 
 resistless attraction and persuasion accompa 
 nied all her words and actions. 
 
 It was, perhaps, the absence of playmates, 
 and the habitual converse with mature minds, 
 which, at so early an age, inspired Jane with 
 that insatiate thirst for knowledge which she 
 ever manifested. Books were her only resource 
 in every unoccupied hour. From her walks 
 with her father, and her domestic employments 
 with her mother, she turned to her little library 
 and to her chamber window, and lost herself in 
 the limitless realms of thought. It is often in* 
 %gined that character is the result of accident
 
 22 MADAME ROLAND. [1760 
 
 gttU. A wmlk on th Boalerwd* 
 
 that there is a native and inherent tendency, 
 which triumphs over circumstances, and works 
 out its own results. Without denying that 
 there may be different intellectual gifts with 
 which the soul may be endowed as it comes 
 from the hand of the Creator, it surely is not 
 difficult to perceive that the peculiar training 
 through which the childhood of Jane was con- 
 ducted was calculated to form the peculiar char 
 acter which she developed. 
 
 In a bright summer's afternoon she might be 
 seen sauntering along the Boulevards, led by 
 her father's hand, gazing upon that scene of 
 gayety with which the eye is never wearied. 
 A gilded coach, drawn by the most beautiful 
 horses in the richest trappings, sweeps along 
 the streets a gorgeous vision. Servants in 
 showy livery, and out-riders proudly mounted, 
 invest the spectacle with a degree of grandeur, 
 oeneath which the imagination of a child sinks 
 exhausted. Phlippon takes his little daughter 
 in his arms to show her the sight, and, as she 
 gazes in infantile wonder and delight, the dis- 
 contented father says, " Look at that lord, and 
 'dy, and child, lolling so voluptuously in their 
 ooaoh. They have no right there. Why must 
 I and my child walk on this hot pavement,
 
 1762.] CHILDHOOD. 23 
 
 PUlppon talk to htl child. Yocthfcl dream* 
 
 while they repose on velvet cushions and revel 
 in al luxury ? Oppressive laws compel me to 
 pay a portion of my hard earnings to support 
 them in their pride and indolence. But a time 
 will come when the people will awake to the 
 consciousness of their wrongs, and their tyrants 
 will tremble before them." He continues his 
 walk in moody silence, brooding over his sense 
 of injustice. They return to their home. Jane 
 wishes that her father kept a carriage, and liv- 
 sried servants and out-riders. She thinks of 
 politics, and of the tyranny of kings and nobles, 
 and of the unjust inequalities of man. She re- 
 tires to the solitude of her loved chamber win- 
 dow, and reads of Aristides the Just, of The- 
 mistocles with his Spartan virtues, of Brutus, 
 and of the mother of the Gracchi. Greece and 
 Rome rise before her in all their ancient re- 
 nown. She despises the frivolity of Paris, the 
 effeminacy of the moderns, and her youthful 
 bosom throbs with the desire of being noble in 
 spirit and of achieving great exploits. Thus, 
 when other children of her age were playing 
 with their dolls, she was dreaming of the pros- 
 tration of nobles and of the overthrow of thrones 
 )f Hberty, and fraternity, and equality among
 
 24 MADAME ROLAND. [1762. 
 
 Influence of Jane's parent* orer her. Education la coarmu 
 
 mankind. Strange dreams for a child, bat still 
 mere strange in their fulfillment. 
 
 The infidelity of her father and the piety of 
 her mother contended, like counter currents of 
 the ocean, in her bosom. Her active intellect 
 and love of freedom sympathized with the spec- 
 ulations of the so-called philosopher. Her ami- 
 able and affectionate disposition and her pensive 
 meditations led her to seek repose in the sub- 
 lime conceptions and in the soul-soothing con- 
 solations of the Christian. Her parents were 
 deeply interested in her education, and were 
 desirous of giving her every advantage for se- 
 curing the highest attainments. The educa- 
 tion of young ladies, at that time, in France, 
 was conducted almost exclusively by nuns in 
 convents. The idea of the silence and solitude 
 of the cloister inspired the highly-imaginative 
 girl with a blaze of enthusiasm. Fondly as she 
 loved her home, she was impatient for the hour 
 to arrive when, with heroic self-sacrifice, she 
 oould withdraw from the world and its pleas- 
 ares, and devote her whole soul to devotion, to 
 meditation, and to study. Her mother's spirit 
 of religion was exerting a powerful influence 
 over her, and one evening she fell at her feet, 
 and, bursting* into tears, besought that she
 
 1764.] CHILDHOOD. 25 
 
 JUM Mat to exiTout. Parting with her mother 
 
 might be sent to a convent to prepare to receive 
 her first Christian communion in a suitable 
 frame of mind. 
 
 The convent of the sisterhood of the Congre- 
 gation in Paris was selected for Jane. In the 
 review of her life which she subsequently wrote 
 while immured in the dungeons of the Concier- 
 gerie, she says, in relation to this event, "While 
 pressing my dear mother in my arms, at the 
 moment of parting with her for the first time 
 in my life, I thought my heart would have bro- 
 ken ; but I was acting in obedience to the voice 
 of God, and I passed the threshold of the clois- 
 ter, tearfully offering up to him the greatest 
 sacrifice I was capable of making. This was 
 an the 7th of May, 1765, when I was eleven 
 years and two months old. In the gloom of a 
 prison, in the midst of political storms which 
 ravage my country, and sweep away all that is 
 dear to me, how shall I recall to my mind, an! 
 how describe the rapture and tranquillity I en- 
 joyed at this period of my life ? What lively 
 colors can express the soft emotions of a young 
 heart endued with tenderness and sensibility, 
 greedy of happiness, beginning to be alive to 
 the beauties- of nature, and perceiving the IV/.ty 
 alone ? The first night I spent in the convent
 
 26 MADAME ROLAND. [1765 
 
 was a night of agitation. I was no longer un- 
 der the paternal roof. I was at a distance from 
 that kind mother, who was doubtless thinking 
 of me with affectionate emotion. A dim 'ight 
 diffused itself through the room in which I had 
 been put to bed with four children of my own 
 age. I stole softly from my couch, and drew 
 near the window, the light of the moun enabling 
 .ne to distinguish the garden, which it over- 
 looked. The deepest silence prevailed around, 
 and I listened to it, if I may use the expression, 
 with a sort of respect. Lofty trees cast their 
 gigantic shadows along the ground, and prom- 
 ised a secure asylum to peaceful meditation. 
 I lifted up my eyes to the heavens ; they were 
 unclouded and serene. I imagined that I felt 
 the presence of the Deity smiling upon my sac- 
 rifice, and already offering me a reward in the 
 consolatory hope of a celestial abode. Tears of 
 delight flowed down my cheeks. I repeatod my 
 TOWS with holy ecstasy, and went to bed again 
 to taste the slumber of God's chosen children." 
 Her thirst for knowledge was insatiate, and 
 with untiring assiduity she pursued her stud- 
 ies. Every hour of the day had its appropriate 
 employment, and time flew upon its swiftest 
 wings Evsry book which fell in her wav she
 
 1.765. j CHILDHOOD. 27 
 
 June book* of ftudy. Her proficiency la marie and drawing 
 
 eagerly perused, and treasured its knowledge or 
 its literary beauties in her memory. Heraldry 
 and books of romance, lives of the saints and 
 fairy legends, biography, travels, history, polit- 
 ical philosophy, poetry, and treatises upon mor- 
 als, were all read and meditated upon by this 
 young child. She had no taste for any childish 
 amusements ; and in the hours of recreation, 
 when the mirthful girls around her were forget- 
 ting study and care in those games appropriate 
 to their years, she would walk alone in the gar- 
 den, admiring the flowers, and gazing upon the 
 fleecy clouds in the sky. In all the beauties of 
 nature her eye ever recognized the hand of God, 
 and she ever took pleasure in those sublime 
 thoughts of infinity and eternity which must 
 engross eveiy noble mind. Her teachers had 
 but little to do. Whatever study she engaged 
 in was pursued with such spontaneous zeal, 
 that success had crowned her efforts before oth- 
 ers had hardly made a beginning. 
 
 In music and drawing she made great profi- 
 ciency. She was even more fond of all that i 
 beautiful and graceful in the accomplishments 
 of a highly-cultivated mind, than in those more 
 solid studies which she nevertheless pursued 
 with BO much energy and interest.
 
 28 MADAME ROLAND. [1766 
 
 Beenr* In the convent. Impression* made by them 
 
 The scenes which she witnessed in the con- 
 vent were peculiarly calculated to produce an 
 indelible impression upon a mind so imagina- 
 tive. The chapel for prayer, with its somber 
 twilight and its dimly-burning tapers ; the dirg- 
 es which the organ breathed upon the trembling 
 ear ; the imposing pageant of prayer and praise, 
 with the blended costumes of monks and hood- 
 ed nuns ; the knell which tolled the requiem of 
 a 'departed sister, as, in the gloom of night and 
 by the light of torches, she was conveyed to her 
 burial all these concomitants of that system 
 of pageantry, arranged so skillfully to impress 
 the senses of the young and the imaginative, 
 fanned to the highest elevation the flames of 
 that poetic temperament she so eminently pos- 
 sessed. 
 
 God thus became in Jane's mind a vision of 
 poetic beauty. Religion was the inspiration of 
 enthusiasm and of sentiment. The worship of 
 the Deity was blended with all that was enno- 
 bling and beautiful Moved by these glowing 
 fancisp, her susceptible spirit, in these tendei 
 years, turned away from atheism, from infidel- 
 ity, from irreligion, as from that which was un- 
 refined, revolting, vulgar. The consciousness 
 f the presence of God, the adoration of his b*
 
 1766.] CHILDHOOD. 29 
 
 Poetic enthtutafm. Taking the reO. 
 
 ing, became a passion of her sou*. This state 
 of mind was poetry, not religion. It involved 
 QO sense of the spirituality of the Divine Law, 
 no consciousness of unworthiness, no need of a 
 Savior. It was an emotion sublime and beau- 
 tiful, yet merely such an emotion as any one of 
 susceptible temperament might feel when stand- 
 ing in the Vale of Chamouni at midnight, or 
 when listening to the crash of thunder as the 
 tempest wrecks the sky, or when one gazes en- 
 tranced upon the fair face of nature in a mild 
 and lovely morning of June, when no cloud ap- 
 pears in the blue canopy above us, and no breeze 
 ruffles the leaves of the grove or the glassy sur- 
 face of the lake, and the songs of birds and the 
 perfume of flowers fill the air. Many mistake 
 the highly poetic enthusiasm which such scenes 
 excite for the spirit of piety. 
 
 While Jane was an inmate of the convent, 
 a very interesting young lady, from some dis- 
 appointment weary of the world, took the veil. 
 When one enters a convent with the intention 
 of becoming a nun, she first takes the white 
 veil, which is an expression of hr intentu L, 
 and thus enters the grade of a novice. During 
 the period of her novitiate, which continues for 
 ievoral months, she is exposed to the severest
 
 80 MADAME ROLANH. [1767. 
 
 Taking the Mack rail Effect vpoB JUM 
 
 discipline of vigils, and fastings, and solitude, 
 and prayer, that she may distinctly understand 
 the life of weariness and self-denial upon which 
 he has entered. If, unintimidated by these 
 hardships, she still persists in her determination, 
 she then takes the black veil, and utters her 
 solemn and irrevocable vows to bury herself in 
 the gloom of the cloister, never again to emerge. 
 From this step there is no return. The throb- 
 bing heart, which neither cowls nor veils can 
 still, finds in the taper-lighted cell its living 
 tomb, till it sleeps in death. No one with even 
 an ordinary share of sensibility can witness a 
 ceremony involving such consequences without 
 the deepest emotion. The scene produced an 
 effect upon the spirit of Jane which was never 
 effaced. The wreath of flowers which crown- 
 ed the beautiful victim ; the veil enveloping her 
 person ; the solemn and dirge-like chant, the 
 requiem of her burial to all the pleasures of 
 sense and time ; the pall which overspread her, 
 emblematic of her consignment to a living tomb, 
 all so deeply affected the impassioned child, 
 that, burying her face in her hands, she wept 
 with uncontrollable emotion. 
 
 The thought of the magnitude of the sacri- 
 fice which the young novice was making ap-
 
 1767.J CHILDHOOD. 31 
 
 Lofty aspiration*. Remark of Napoleo*. 
 
 pealed irresistibly to her admiration of the mor- 
 ally sublime. There was in that relinquish- 
 ment of all the joys of earth a self-surrender to 
 a passionless life of mortification, and penance, 
 and prayer, an apparent heroism, which remind- 
 ed Jane of her much-admired Roman maidens 
 and matrons. She aspired with most romantic 
 ardor to do, herself, something great and noble. 
 While her sound judgment could not but con- 
 demn this abandonment of life, she was inspired 
 with the loftiest enthusiasm to enter, in some 
 worthy way, upon a life of endurance, of sacri- 
 fice, and of martyrdom. She felt that she was 
 born for the performance of some great deeds, 
 and she looked down with contempt upon ail 
 the ordinary vocations of every-day life. These 
 were the dreams of a romantic girl. They were 
 not, however, the fleeting visions of a sickly and 
 sentimental mind, but the deep, soul-moving 
 aspirations of one of the strongest intellects over 
 which imagination has ever swayed its scepter. 
 One is reminded by these early developments 
 of character of the remark of Napoleon, when 
 some one said, in his presence, " It is nothing 
 but imagination." " Nothing but imagina- 
 tion !" replied this sagacious observer ; " imag- 
 ination rules the world /"
 
 32 MADAME Re LAND. {1767 
 
 Jtne'l contempt of ease and luxnry . Her *elf-de&U! 
 
 These dim visions of greatness, these lofty 
 aspirations, not for renown, but for the inward 
 oonsciousness of intellectual elevation, of moral 
 mblimity, of heroism, had no influence, as is 
 ordinarily the case with day-dreams, to give 
 Jane a distaste for life's energetic duties. They 
 did not enervate her character, or convert her 
 into a mere visionary ; on the contrary, they 
 but roused and invigorated her to alacrity in 
 the discharge of every duty. They led her to 
 despise ease and luxury, to rejoice in self-de- 
 nial, and to cultivate, to the highest possible 
 degree, all her faculties of body and of mind, 
 that she might be prepared for any possible des- 
 tiny. Wild as, at times, her imaginings might 
 have been, her most vivid fancy never could 
 have pictured a career so extraordinary as that 
 to which reality introduced her ; and in all the 
 annals of ancient story, she could find no record 
 of sufferings and privations more severe than 
 those which she was called upon to endure. 
 And neither heroine nor hero of any age has 
 shed greater luster upon human nature by the 
 cheerful fortitude wi f h which adversity has been 
 braved
 
 YOUTH. 31 
 
 Its iufluaac* upon JMM 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 YOUTH. 
 
 fTTHE influence of those intense emotions 
 -" which were excited in the bosom of Jane 
 by the scenes which she witnessed in her child- 
 hood in the nunnery were never effaced irom 
 her imaginative mind. Nothing can be con- 
 ceived more strongly calculated to impress the 
 feelings of a romantic girl, than the poetic at- 
 tractions which are thrown around the Roman 
 Catholic religion by nuns, and cloisters, and 
 dimly-lighted chapels, and faintly-burning ta- 
 pers, and matins, and vespers, and midnight 
 dirges. Jane had just the spirit to be most 
 deeply captivated by such enchantments. She 
 reveled in those imaginings which clustered in 
 the dim shades of the cloister, in an ecstasy of 
 luxurious enjoyment. The ordinary motive 
 which influence young girls of her age seem to 
 have had no control over her. Her joys were 
 most highly intellectual and spiritual, and he? 
 aspirations were far above the usual conceptions 
 of childhood. She, for a time, became entire] 1 
 183
 
 34 MADAME ROLAND. 
 
 Jane leave* the con rent Her attachment to one of the nun* 
 
 fascinated by the novel scenes around her, and 
 surrendered her whole soul to the dominion of 
 the associations with which she was engrossed 
 In subsequent years, by the energies of a vigor- 
 ous philosophy, she disenfranchised her intellect 
 from these illusions, and, proceeding to another 
 extreme, wandered in the midst of the cheerless 
 mazes of unbelief; but her fancy retained the 
 traces of these early impressions until the hour 
 of her death. Christianity, even when most 
 heavily encumbered with earthly corruption, is 
 infinitely preferable to no religion at all. Even 
 papacy has never swayed so bloody a scepter as 
 infidelity. 
 
 Jane remained in the convent one year, and 
 then, with deep regret, left the nuns, to whom 
 she had become extremely attached. With one 
 of the sisters, who was allied to the nobility, 
 she formed a strong friendship, which continued 
 through life. For many years she kept up a 
 constant correspondence with this friend, and 
 to this correspondence she attributes, in a great 
 rtsgree, that facility in writing which contrib- 
 uted so much to her subsequent celebrity. This 
 letter- writing is >ne of the best schools of com 
 position, and the parent who is emulous of the 
 improvement of his children in that respect,
 
 YOUTH. 35 
 
 MM partake* of the Lord'* Supper. Preparation* far the wlemBlty, 
 
 will do all in his power to encourage the con- 
 slant use of the pen in these familiar epistles. 
 Thus the most important study, the study of 
 tha power of expression, is converted into a 
 pleasure, and is pursued with an avidity which 
 will infallibly secure success. It its a sad mis- 
 take to frown upon such efforts as a waste of 
 time. 
 
 While in the convent, she, for the first time, 
 partook of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. 
 Her spirit was most deeply impressed and over- 
 awed by the sacredness of the ceremony. Du- 
 ring several weeks previous to her reception of 
 this solemn ordinance, by solitude, self-examin- 
 ation, and prayer, she endeavored to prepare 
 herself for that sacred engagement, which she 
 deemed the pledge of her union to God, and of 
 her eternal felicity. When the hour arrived, 
 her feelings were so intensely excited that she 
 wept convulsively, and she was entirely incap- 
 able of walking to the altar. She was borne in 
 the arms of two of the nuns. This depth of 
 emotion was entirely unaffected, and secured for 
 hr the peculiar reverence of the sacred sisters. 
 
 That spirit of pensive reverie, so dangerous 
 and yet so fascinating, to which she loved to 
 nrrender herself, was peculiarly in harmon>
 
 36 MADAME KOLANII. 
 
 Jane'i delight In meditation. Departure from the eonrwt 
 
 with all the influences with which she was sur- 
 rounded in the convent, and constituted tilt 
 very soul of the piety of its inmates. She wag 
 encouraged by the commendations of all the 
 sisters to deliver her mind up to the dominion 
 af these day-dreams, with whose intoxicating 
 power every heart is more or less familiar. She 
 loved to retire to the solitude of the cloisters, 
 when the twilight was deepening into darkness, 
 and alone, with measured steps, to pace to and 
 fro, listening to the monotonous echoes of her 
 own footfall, which alone disturbed the soUrnn 
 silence. At the tomb of a departed sister she 
 would often linger, and, indulging in those mel- 
 ancholy meditations which had for her so many 
 charms, long for her own departure to the bo- 
 som of her heavenly Father, where she might 
 enjoy that perfect happiness for which, at times, 
 her spirit glowed with such intense aspirations 
 At the close of the year Jane left the peace- 
 ful retreat where she had enjoyed so much, and 
 where she had received so many impressions 
 never to be effaced. Her parents, engrossed 
 with care, were unable to pay that attention to 
 their child which her expanding mind required, 
 and she was sent to pass her thirteenth yeai 
 with her paternal grandmother and her aun
 
 YOUTH. 87 
 
 Jane goaf to Hve with her grandmother. Character of the latter 
 
 Angelieu. Her grandmother was a dignified 
 lady of much refinement of mind and graceful- 
 ness of demeanor, who laid great stress upon all 
 the courtesies of life and the elegances of man- 
 ners and address. Her aunt was gentle and 
 warm-hearted, and her spirit was deeply im- 
 bued with that humble and docile piety, which 
 has so often shone out with pure luster even 
 through all the encumbrances of the Roman 
 Catholic Church. With them she spent a year, 
 in a seclusion from the world almost as entire 
 as that which she found in the solitude of the 
 convent. An occasional visit to her parents, 
 and to her old friends the nuns, was all that in- 
 terrupted the quiet routine of daily duties. 
 Books continued still her employment and her 
 delight. Her habits of reverie continued un- 
 broken. Her lofty dreams gained a daily in- 
 creasing ascendency over her character. 
 
 She thus continued to dwell in the boundless 
 regions of the intellect and the affections Even 
 the most commonplace duties of life w >re ren- 
 dered attractive to her by investing them with 
 a mysterious connection with her own limitless 
 being. Absorbed in her own thoughts, ever 
 communing with herself, with nature, with the 
 Deity, as the object of her highest sentiment
 
 38 MADAME ROLAND. 
 
 Jane'i intellectual progrea*. Her fathar'* datlfkt 
 
 and aspirations, though she did not despise those 
 of a more humble mental organization, she gave 
 them not a thought. The evening twilight of 
 every fine day still found her at her chamber 
 window, admiring the glories of the setting sun, 
 and feeding her impassioned spirit with those 
 visions of future splendor and happiness which 
 the scene appeared to reveal. She fancied she 
 could almost see the wings of angels gleaming 
 in the purple sunlight. Through those gor- 
 geous avenues, where clouds were piled on gold- 
 en clouds, she imagined, far away, the man- 
 sions of the blessed. These emotions glowing 
 within her, gave themselves utterance in pray- 
 ers earnest and ardent, while the tears of irre- 
 pressible feeling filled her eyes as she thought 
 of that exalted Being, so worthy of her pure 
 and intensest homage. 
 
 The father of Jane was delighted with all 
 these indications of a marked and elevated char- 
 acter, and did all in his power to stimulate hex 
 to greater zeal in her lofty studies and medita- 
 tions. Jane became his idol, and the more her 
 imaginative mind became imbued with the spir- 
 it of romantic aspirations, the better was he 
 pleased. The ardor of her zeal enabled her to 
 raooeed in every thing which she undertook.
 
 YOUTH. 39 
 
 Jane learns to engrave. Her mother impatient for her return. 
 
 Invincible industry and energy were united 
 with these dreams. She was ambitious of 
 knowing every thing ; and when her father 
 placed in her hands the ~burin, wishing to teach 
 her to engrave, she immediately acquired such 
 skill as to astonish both of her parents. And 
 she afterward passed many pleasant hours in 
 engraving, on highly-polished plates of brass, 
 beautiful emblems of flowers as tokens of affec- 
 tion for her friends. 
 
 The mother of Jane, with far better judg- 
 ment, endeavored to call back her daughter 
 from that unreal world in which she loved to 
 dwell, and to interest her in the practical du- 
 ties of life. She began to be impatient for her 
 return home, that she might introduce her to 
 those household employments, the knowledge of 
 which is of such unspeakable importance to ev- 
 ery lady. In this she was far from being un- 
 successful ; for while Jane continued to dream 
 in accordance with the encouragement of her 
 father, she also cordially recognized the good 
 sense of her mother's counsels, and held herself 
 ever in readiness to co-operate with her in all 
 her plans. 
 
 A little incident which took place at this 
 time strikingly illustrates the reflective matu-
 
 (0 MADAME ROLAND. 
 
 Fhe *Wt to Md>me D BoUmorei. Remaik* of (errant* 
 
 rity which her character had already acquired. 
 Before the French Revolution, the haughty de- 
 meanor of the nobility of France assumed such 
 in aspect as an American, at the present day, 
 can but feebly conceive. One morning, the 
 grandmother of Jane, a woman of dignity and 
 cultivated mind, took her to the house of Ma- 
 dame De Boismorel, a lady of noble rank, whose 
 children she had partly educated. It was a 
 great event, and Jane was dressed with the ut- 
 most care to visit the aristocratic mansion. 
 The aspiring girl, with no disposition to come 
 down to the level of those beneath her, and with 
 still less willingness to do homage to those above 
 her, was entirely unconscious of the mortifying 
 condescension with which she was to be receiv- 
 ed. The porter at the door saluted Madame 
 Phlippon with politeness, and all the servants 
 whom she met in the hall addressed her with 
 civility. She replied to each with courtesy and 
 with dignity. The grandmother was proud of 
 her grand-daughter, and the servants paid the 
 young lady many compliments. The instinct 
 ive pride of Jane took instant alarm. She felt 
 .that servants had no right to presume to pay 
 her compliments that they were thus assum- 
 ing that she-was upon their level. Alas! for
 
 YOUTH 43 
 
 Appearance of Madame Do Boismorel. Her reception of the Tiaitora. 
 
 poor human nature. All love to ascend Few 
 are willing to favor equality by stepping down. 
 A tall footman announced them at the door of 
 the magnificent saloon All the furnishing and 
 arrangements of this aristocratic apartment 
 were calculated to dazzle the eye and bewilder 
 the mind of one unaccustomed to such splen 
 dor. Madame De Boismorel, dressed with the 
 most ostentatious display of wealth, was seated 
 upon an ottoman, in stately dignity, employing 
 her fingers with fancy needle- work. Her face 
 was thickly covered with rouge, and, as hei 
 guests were announced, she raised her eyes 
 from her embroidery, and fixing a cold and un- 
 feeling glance upon them, without rising to re- 
 ceive them, or even making the slightest in- 
 clination of her body, in a very patronizing and 
 condescending tone said to the grandmother, 
 " Ah ! Miss Phlippon, good morning to you !" 
 Jane, who was far from pleased with her re- 
 ception in the hall, was exceedingly displeased 
 with her reception in the saloon. The pride of 
 the Roman maiden rose in her bosom, and in- 
 dignantly she exclaimed to herself, " So my 
 grandmother is called Miss in this house !" 
 " I am very glad to see you," continued Ma- 
 De Boismorel ; " and who is this fine
 
 MADAME ROLAND. 
 
 MMUma De Bolimorol'i Tolubility . Jane'i dignified rejoinder* 
 
 girl ? your grand-daughter, I suppose ? She 
 will make a very pretty woman. Come here, 
 my dear. Ah! I see she is a little bashful. 
 How old is your grand-daughter, Miss Phlip- 
 pon? Her complexion is rather brown, to be 
 sure, but her skin is clear, and will grow fairer 
 in a few years. She is quite a woman already." 
 
 Thus she rattled on for some time, waiting 
 for no answers. At length, turning again to 
 Jane, who had hardly ventured to raise her 
 eyes from the floor, she said, " What a beauti- 
 ful hand you have got. That hand must be a 
 lucky one. Did you ever venture in a lottery 
 my dear ?" 
 
 "Never, madam," replied Jane, promptly 
 *' I am not fond of gaming." 
 
 " What an admirable voice !" exclaimed the 
 lady. " So sweet and yet so full-toned ! But 
 how grave she is ! Pray, my dear, are you not 
 a little of a devotee ?" 
 
 "I know my duty to God," replied Jane, 
 " and I endeavor to fulfill it." 
 
 " That's a good girl," the noble lady rejoined 
 "You wish to take the veil, do you not?" 
 
 "I do not know what may be my destina- 
 tion, neither am I at present anxious to conjec- 
 ture it "
 
 YOUTH. 45 
 
 toe's Indication. She vidU VenafllM 
 
 " How very sententious !" Madame De Bois- 
 rnorel replied. "Your grand-daughter readg a 
 great deal, does she not, Miss Phlippon ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam, reading is her greatest do- 
 light." 
 
 " Ay, ay," rejoined the lady ; " I see how it 
 is. But have a care that she does not turn au- 
 thor. That would be a pity indeed." 
 
 During this conversation the cheeks of Jane 
 were flushed with wounded pride, and her heart 
 throbbed most violently. She felt indignant 
 and degraded, and was exceedingly impatient to 
 escape from the humiliating visit. Conscious 
 that she was, in spirit, in no respect inferior to 
 the maidens of Greece and Rome who had so 
 engrossed her admiration, she as instinctively 
 recoiled from the arrogance of the haughty oo- 
 oupant of the parlor as she had repelled the 
 affected equality of the servants in the hall. 
 
 A short time after this she was taken to pass 
 a week at the luxurious abodes of Maria An- 
 toinette, Versailles was in itself a city of pal- 
 aces and of courtiers, where all that could daz- 
 lie the eye in regal pomp and princely volup- 
 tuousness was concentered. Most girls of her 
 age would have been enchanted and bewildered 
 by this display of royal grandeur. Jane wan
 
 46 MADAME ROLAND. 
 
 Jane's disgust at palace life. She resorts to the gardens. 
 
 permitted to witness, and partially to share, all 
 the pomp of luxuriously-spread tables, and pres- 
 entations, and court balls, and illuminations, 
 and the gilded equipages of embassadors and 
 princes. But this maiden, just emerging from 
 the period of childhood and the seclusion of the 
 cloister, undazzled by all this brilliance, looked 
 sadly on the scene with the condemning eye of 
 a philosopher. The servility of the courtiers ex- 
 cited her contempt. She contrasted the bound- 
 less profusion and extravagance which filled 
 these palaces with the absence of comfort in 
 the dwellings of the over-taxed poor, and pon- 
 dered deeply the value of that regal despotism, 
 which starved the millions to pander to the dis- 
 solute indulgence of the few. Her personal 
 pride was also severely stung by perceiving 
 that her own attractions, mental and physical, 
 were entirely overlooked by the crowds which 
 were bowing before the shrines of rank and pow- 
 er. She soon became weary of the painful spec- 
 tacle. Disgusted with the frivolity of the liv- 
 ing, she sought solace for her wounded feelings 
 in companionship with the illustrious dead. 
 She chose the gardens for her resort, and, lin- 
 gering around the statues which embellished 
 these scenes of almost fairy enchantment, sur-
 
 YOUTH. 4? 
 
 meditation*. Characteristic remark 
 
 rendered herself to the luxury of those oft-in- 
 dulged dreams, which lured her thoughts away 
 from the trivialities around her to heroic char 
 acter and brilliant exploits. 
 
 "How do you enjoy your visit, my daugh- 
 ter ?" inquired her mother. 
 
 " I shall be glad when it is ended," was the 
 characteristic reply, " else, in a few more days, 
 I shall so detest all the persons I see that I shall 
 not know what to do with my hatred." 
 
 " Why, what harm have these persons done 
 you, my child ?" 
 
 " They make me feel injustice and look upon 
 absurdity," replied this philosopher of thirteen 
 
 Thus early did she commence her political 
 meditations, and here were planted the germs 
 of that enthusiasm which subsequently nerved 
 her to such exertions for the disenthralment of 
 the people, and the establishment of republican 
 power upon the ruin of the throne of the Bcur- 
 bons. She thought of the ancient republics, 
 eacircled by a halo of visionary glory, and of 
 trie heroes and heroines who had been the mar* 
 tyrs of liberty ; or, to use her own energetic 
 language, "I. sighed at the recollection of Ath- 
 ens, where I could have enjoyed the fine arts 
 without being annoyed at the sight of despot-
 
 48 MADAME ROLAND. 
 
 taM. ratuM hoM. Bar manner 
 
 inn. I was out of all patience at being a 
 French-woman. Enchanted with the golden 
 period of the Grecian republic, I passed over 
 the storms by which it had been agitated. I 
 forgot the exile of Aristides, the death of 800- 
 rates, and the condemnation of Phooion. I lit- 
 tle thought that Heaven reserved me to be a 
 witness of similar errors, to profess the same 
 principles, and to participate in the glory of the 
 same persecutions." 
 
 Soon after Jane had entered her fourteenth 
 year, she left her grandmother's and returned 
 to her parental home. Her father, though far 
 from opulence, was equally removed from pov- 
 erty, and, without difficulty, provided his fam- 
 ily with a frugal competence. Jane now pur- 
 sued her studies and her limitless reading with 
 unabated ardor. Her mind, demanding reality 
 and truth as basis for thought, in the develop- 
 ments of character as revealed in biography, in 
 the rise and fall of empires as portrayed in his- 
 tory, in the facts of science, and in the princi- 
 ples of mental and physical philosophy, four d 
 its congenial aliment. She accustomed herself 
 to read with her pen in her hand, taking copi- 
 ous abstracts of facts and sentiments which par- 
 ticularly interested her Not having a large
 
 YOUTH. 49 
 
 i devotes herself to domestic duties. She goes to market 
 
 library of her own, many of the books which 
 she read were borrowed, and she carefully ex- 
 tracted from them and treasured in her com- 
 mon-place book those passages which particu- 
 larly interested her, that she might read them 
 again and again. With these abstracts and ex- 
 tracts there were freely intermingled ber own 
 reflections, and thus all that she read was care- 
 fully stored up in her own mind and became a 
 portion of her own intellectual being. 
 
 Jane's mother, conscious of the importance 
 to her child of a knowledge of domestic duties, 
 took her to the market to obtain meat and veg- 
 etables, and occasionally placed upon her the 
 responsibility of most of the family purchases ; 
 and yet the unaffected, queenly dignity with 
 which the imaginative girl yielded herself to 
 these most useful yet prosaic avocations was 
 such, that when she entered the market, the 
 fruit-women hastened to serve her before the 
 other customers. The first comers, instead of 
 being offended by this neglect, stepped aside, 
 struck by those indescribable indications of su- 
 periority which ever gave her such a resistless 
 influence over other minds. It is quite remark- 
 able that Jane, apparently, never turned with 
 repugnance from these humble avocations o/ 
 
 184
 
 50 MADAME ROLAND. 
 
 Jiuie'i aptitude for domestic duties. From the itudy to the kitchen 
 
 dornestio life. It speaks most highly in behalf 
 of the intelligence and sound judgment of hei 
 mother, that she was enabled thus successfully 
 to allure her daughter from her proud imagin- 
 ings and her realms of romance to those unat- 
 tractive practical duties which our daily neces- 
 sities demand. At one hour, this ardent and 
 impassioned maiden might have been seen in 
 her little chamber absorbed in studies of deepest 
 research. The highest themes which can ele- 
 vate or engross the mind of man claimed her 
 profound and delighted reveries. The next hour 
 she might be seen in the kitchen, under the 
 guidance of her placid and pious mother, re- 
 ceiving from her judicious lips lessons upon fru- 
 gality, and industry, and economy. The white 
 apron was bound around her waist, and hei 
 hands, which, but a few moments before, were 
 busy with the circles of the celestial globe, were 
 now occupied in preparing vegetables for din- 
 ner. There was thus united in the charaotei 
 of Jane the appreciation of all that is beautiful, 
 ohivalrio, and sublime in the world of fact and 
 the world of imagination, and also domestic 
 ikiL and practical common sense.. She was 
 thus prepared to fascinate by the graces and el- 
 egances of ar refined and polished mini, and tr
 
 YOUTH. 51 
 
 Domestic education. 
 
 create for herself, in the midst of all the vicis- 
 situdes of life, a region of loveliness in which 
 her spirit could ever dwell ; and, at the same 
 time, she possessed that sagacity and tact, and 
 those habits of usefulness, which prepared her 
 to meet calmly all the changes of fortune, and 
 over them all to triumph. With that self-ap- 
 preciation, the expression of which, with her, 
 was frankness rather than vanity, she subse- 
 quently writes, " This mixture of serious stud- 
 ies, agreeable relaxations, and domestic cares, 
 was rendered pleasant by my mother's good 
 management, and fitted me for every thing. It 
 seemed to forebode the vicissitudes of future 
 Jbfe, and enabled me to bear them. In every 
 place I am at home. I can prepare my own 
 dinner with as much address as Philopoemen 
 cut wood ; but no one seeing me thus engaged 
 would think it an office in which I ought to be 
 employed." 
 
 Jane was thus prepared by Providence for 
 that career which she rendered so illustrious 
 through her talents and her sufferings. At this 
 early period there were struggling in her bosom 
 those very emotions which soon after agitated 
 every mind in France, and which overthrew in 
 chaotic ruin both the altar and the throne.
 
 62 MADAME ROLAMD 
 
 DtMotatotfTM of the CathoUe clergy. N>w 
 
 The dissolute lives of many of the Catholic 
 clergy, and their indolence and luxury, began 
 to alarm her faith. The unceasing denuncia- 
 tions of her father gave additional impulse to 
 every such suggestion. She could not but see 
 that the pride and power of the state were sus- 
 tained by the superstitious terrors wielded by 
 the Church. She could not be blind to the 
 trickery by which money was wrested from tor- 
 tured consciences, and from ignorance, imbecil- 
 ity, and dotage. She could not but admire her 
 mother's placid piety, neither could she conceal 
 from herself that her faith was feeling, her prin- 
 ciples sentiments. Deeply as her own feelings 
 had been impressed in the convent, and much 
 as she loved the gentle sisters there, she sought 
 in vain for a foundation for the gigantic fabric 
 of spiritual dominion towering above her. She 
 looked upon the gorgeous pomp of papal wor- 
 ship, with its gormandizing pastors and its starv 
 ing docks, with its pageants to excite the sense 
 and to paralyze the mind, with its friars ana 
 monks loitering in sloth and uselessness, ana 
 often in the grossest dissipation, and her reason 
 gradually began to condemn it as a gigantic 
 superstition for the enthrallment of mankind. 
 Still, the influence of Christian sentiments, like
 
 ITouTH. 53 
 
 iMotance of tbe aristocracy. Jane's indignation. 
 
 A guardian angel, over hovered around her, and 
 when her bewildered mind was groping amid 
 the labyrinths of unbelief, her heart still clung 
 to all that is pure in Christian morals, and to 
 all that is consolatory in the hopes of immor- 
 tality ; and even when benighted in the most 
 painful atheistic doubts, conscience became her 
 deity ; its voice she most reverently obeyed. 
 
 She turned from the Church to the state 
 She saw the sons and the daughters of aristo- 
 cratic pride, glittering in gilded chariots, and 
 surrounded by insolent menials, sweep by her, 
 through the Elysian Fields, while she trod th' 
 lusty pathway. Her proud spirit revolted, more 
 and more, at the apparent injustice. She had 
 studied the organization of society. She was 
 familiar with the modes of popular oppression 
 She understood the operation of that system of 
 taxes, so ingeniously devised to sink the mass 
 of the people in poverty and degradation, that 
 princes and nobles might revel in voluptuous 
 splendor. Indignation nerved her spirit as she 
 reflected upon the usurpation thus ostentatious- 
 ly displayed. The seclusion in which she lived 
 encouraged deep musings upon these vast ine- 
 qualities of life. Piety had not taught her sub- 
 mission. Philosophy had not yet taught hei
 
 54 MADAME ROLAND. 
 
 New acquaintance. Jane'i contempt for their Ignorance and prldft 
 
 the impossibility of adjusting these allotments 
 of our earthly state, so as to distribute the gifts 
 of fortune in accordance with merit. Little, 
 however, did the proud grandees imagine, as in 
 courtly splendor they swept by the plebeian 
 maiden, enveloping her in the dust of their char- 
 iots, that her voice would yet aid to upheave 
 their castles from their foundations, and whelm 
 the monarchy and the aristocracy of France in 
 one common ruin. 
 
 At this time circumstances brought her in 
 contact with several ladies connected with no- 
 ble families. The ignorance of these ladies, 
 their pride, their arrogance, excited in Jane's 
 mind deep contempt. She could not but feel 
 her own immeasurable superiority over them, 
 and yet she perceived with indignation that the 
 accident of birth invested them with a factitious 
 dignity, which enabled them to look down upon 
 her with condescension. A lady of noble birth, 
 who had lost fortune and friends through the 
 fraud and dissipation of those connected with 
 her, came to board for a short time in her fa- 
 ther's family. This lady was forty years of 
 age, insufferably proud of her pedigree, and in 
 her manners stiff and repulsive. She was ex- 
 ceedingly illiterate and uninformed, being un
 
 YOUTH. 55 
 
 A noble but illiterate lady. Deference pali to has, 
 
 able to write a line with correctness, and hav- 
 ing no knowledge beyond that which may be 
 picked up in the ball-room and the theater. 
 Thare was nothing in her character to win es- 
 teem. She was trying, by a law-suit, to recov- 
 er a portion of her lost fortune. Jane wrote pe- 
 titions for her, and letters, and sometimes went 
 with her to make interest with persons whose 
 influence would be important. She perceived 
 that, notwithstanding her deficiency in every 
 personal quality to inspire esteem or love, she 
 was treated, in consequence of her birth, with 
 the most marked deference. Whenever she 
 mentioned the names of her high-born ancestry 
 and those names were ever upon her lips 
 she was listened to with the greatest respect. 
 Jane contrasted the reception which this illiter- 
 ate descendant of nobility enjoyed with the re- 
 ception which her grandmother encountered in 
 the visit to Madame De Boismorel, and it ap- 
 peared to her that the world was exceedingly 
 unjust, and that the institutions of society were 
 highly absurd. Thus was her mind training 
 for activity in the arena of revolution. She 
 was pondering deeply all the abuses of society. 
 She had become enamored of the republican lib- 
 erty of antiquity She was ready to embrace
 
 56 MADAME ROLAND. 
 
 Habits of reflection. 
 
 with enthusiasm any hopes of change. All th 
 games and amusements of girlhood appeared to 
 her frivolous, as, day after day, her whole men- 
 tal powers were engrossed by these profound 
 contemplations, and by aspirations for the ele- 
 ation of herself and of mankind.
 
 1770.] MAIDENHOOD. 67 
 
 Pint emotion* of lore. A yotthfol artist 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 MAIDENHOOD. 
 
 A SOUL so active, so imaginative, and so 
 full of feeling as that of Jane, could not 
 long slumber unconscious of the emotion of love. 
 In the unaffected and touching narrative which 
 she gives of her own character, in the Journal 
 which she subsequently wrote in the gloom of 
 a prison, she alludes to the first rising of that 
 mysterious passion in her bosom. With that 
 frankness which ever marked her character, 
 she describes the strange fluttering of her heart, 
 the embarrassment, the attraction, and the in- 
 stinctive diffidence she experienced when in the 
 presence of a young man who had, all uncon- 
 sciously, interested her affections. It seerm 
 that there was a youthful painter named Tabo- 
 ral, of pale, and pensive, and intellectual coun- 
 tenance an artist with soul-inspired enthusi- 
 asm beaming from his eye who occasionally 
 called upon her father. Jane had just been 
 reading the Heloise of Rousseau, that gushing 
 fount*'" of sentimentality. Her young heart
 
 58 J 
 
 t ttukltty Muter of initon 
 
 took fire. His features mingled insensibly in 
 her dreamings and her visions, and dwelt, a wel- 
 oume guest, in her oastles in the air. The dif- 
 fident young man, with all the sensitiveness of 
 genius, could not speak to the daughter, of 
 whose accomplishments the father was so just- 
 ly proud, without blushing like a girl. When 
 Jane heard him in the shop, she always con- 
 trived to make some errand to go in. There 
 was a pencil or something else to be sought for. 
 But the moment she was in the presence of 
 Taboral, instinctive embarrassment drove her 
 away, and she retired more rapidly than she en- 
 tered, and with a palpitating heart ran to hide 
 herself in her little chamber. 
 
 This emotion, however, was fleeting and tran- 
 sient, and soon forgotten. Indeed, highly im- 
 aginative as was Jane, her imagination was 
 vigorous and intellectual, and her tastes led her 
 far away from those enervating love-dreams in 
 which a weaker mind would have indulged. A 
 young lady so fascinating in mind and person 
 could not but attract much attention. Many 
 suitors began to appear, one after another, but 
 she manifested no interest in any of them. The 
 customs of society in France were such at that 
 time, that it was difficult for any one who
 
 1770.1 MAIDENHOOD. 59 
 
 fane as a letter writer. Her MntbnenU adopted by the French ministry 
 
 sought the hand of Jane to obtain an introduc- 
 tion to her. Consequently, the expedient was 
 usually adopted of writing first to her parents. 
 These letters were always immediately shown 
 to Jane. She judged of the character of the 
 writer by the character of the epistles. Her 
 father : knowing her intellectual superiority, 
 looked to her as his secretary to reply to all 
 these letters. She consequently wrote the an- 
 swers, which her father carefully copied, and 
 sent in his own name. She was often amused 
 with the gravity with which she, as the father 
 of herself, with parental prudence discussed her 
 own interests. In subsequent years she wrote 
 to kings and to cabinets in the name of her hus- 
 band ; and the sentiments which flowed from 
 her pen, adopted by the ministry of France as 
 their own, guided the councils of nations. 
 
 Her father, regarding commerce as the source 
 of wealth, and wealth as the source of power 
 and dignity, was very anxious that his daughter 
 should accept some of the lucrative offers she 
 ^vas receiving from young men of the family 
 acquaintance who were engaged in trade. But 
 Jane h d no such thought. Her proud spirit 
 revolted from such a connection. From her 
 sublimated position among the ancient heroes.
 
 60 MADAME ROLAND. [177U 
 
 A rich meat merchant propose* for Jane's hand. 
 
 and her ambitious aspirings to dwell in the loft- 
 iest regions of intellect, she could not think of 
 tllying her soul with those whose energies wero 
 expended in buying and selling; and she de- 
 clared that she would have no husband but one 
 with whom she could cherish congenial sym- 
 pathies. 
 
 At one time a rich meat merchant of the 
 neighborhood solicited her hand. Her father, 
 allured by his wealth, was very anxious that 
 his daughter should accept the offer. In reply 
 to his urgency Jane firmly replied, 
 
 " I can not, dear father, descend from my no 
 ble imaginings. What I want in a husband is 
 a soul, not a fortune. I will die single rather 
 than prostitute my own mind in a union with 
 a being with whom I have no sympathies. 
 Brought up from my infancy in connection with 
 the great men of all ages familiar with lofty 
 ideas and illustrious examples have I lived 
 with Plato, with all the philosophers, all the 
 poets, all the politicians of antiquity, merely to 
 unite myself wjth a shop-keeper, who \i ill nei- 
 ther appreciate nor feel any thing as I do? 
 Why have you suffered me, father, to contract 
 these intellectual habits and tastes, if you wish 
 me to form such an alliance? I know not
 
 1770.1 MAI DRW HOOD. 61 
 
 CooTersaUou between Jane and ht>r tather about matrimony 
 
 whom I may marry ; but it must be one who 
 ean share my thoughts and sympathize with my 
 pursuits." 
 
 " But, my daughter, there are many men of 
 business who have extensive information and 
 polished manners." 
 
 " That may be," Jane answered, " but they 
 do not possess the kind of information, and the 
 character of mind, and the intellectual tastes 
 which I wish any one who is my husband to 
 possess." 
 
 " Do you not suppose," rejoined her father, 
 
 " that Mr. and his wife are happy ? He 
 
 has just retired from business with an ample 
 fortune. They have a beautiful house, and re- 
 ceive the best of company." 
 
 " I arn no judge," was the reply, " of other 
 people's happiness. But my own heart is not 
 fixed on riches. I conceive that the strictest 
 union of affection is requisite to conjugal felici- 
 ty. I can not connect myself with any man 
 whose tastes and sympathies are not in accord- 
 ance with my own. My husband must be my 
 uperior. Since both nature and the laws give 
 him the pre-eminence, I should be ashamed if 
 he did not really deserve it." 
 
 "I suppose, then, you want a counselor (at
 
 62 MADAME ROLAND. [1771. 
 
 Views of Jane in regard to marriage. 
 
 your husband. But ladies are seldom happy 
 with these learned gentlemen. They have a 
 great deal of pride, and very little money." 
 
 "Father," Jane earnestly replied, "I care not 
 about the profession. I wish only to marry a 
 man whom I can love." 
 
 " But you persist in thinking such a man will 
 never be found in trade. You will find it, 
 however, a very pleasant thing to sit at ease in 
 your own parlor while your husband is accu- 
 mulating a fortune. Now there is Madame 
 Dargens : she understands diamonds as well as 
 nor husband. She can make good bargains in 
 his absence, and could carry on all his business 
 perfectly well if she were left a widow. You 
 are intelligent. You perfectly understand that 
 branch of business since you studied the treat- 
 ise on precious stones. You might do what- 
 ever you please. You would have led a very 
 happy life if you could but have fancied De- 
 lorme, Dabrieul, or " 
 
 " Father," earnestly exclaimed Jane, " I ha?e 
 discovered that the only way to make a fortune 
 in trade is by selling dear that which has been 
 bought cheap; by overcharging the customer, 
 and beating down the poor workman. I could 
 never descend tc such practices; nor could )
 
 1771.] MAIDENHOOD. 63 
 
 Jane's objections to a tradesman. She U Immorabla 
 
 respect a man who made them his occupation 
 from morning till night." 
 
 " Do you then suppose that there are no hon- 
 est tradesmen ?" 
 
 "I presume that there are," was the reply; 
 * { but the number is not large ; and among 
 them I am not likely to find a husband who 
 will sympathize with me." 
 
 " And what will you do if you do not find 
 the idol of your imagination ?" 
 
 " I will live single." 
 
 " Perhaps you will not find that as pleasant 
 as you imagine. You may think that there is 
 time enough yet. But weariness will come at 
 last. The crowd of lovers will soon pass away 
 and you know the fable." 
 
 " Well, then, by meriting happiness, I wiL 
 take revenge upon the injustice which would 
 deprive me of it." 
 
 " Oh ! now you are in the clouds again, my 
 ohild. It is very pleasant to soar to such a 
 leight, but it is not easy to keep the elevation." 
 
 The judicious mother of Jane, anxious to see 
 her daughter settled in life, endeavored to form 
 a match for her with a young physician. Much 
 maneuvering was necessary to bring about the 
 desired result. The young practitioner wa*
 
 64 MADAME ROLAND. [1771 
 
 The young physician M lover. Carton* taterriew 
 
 nothing loth to lend his aid. The pecuniary 
 arrangements were all made, and the bargain 
 completed, before Jane knew any thing of the 
 matter. The mother and daughter went out 
 one morning to make a call upon a friend, at 
 whose house the prospective husband of Jane, 
 by previous appointment, was accidentally to 
 be. It was a curious interview. The friends 
 so overacted their part, that Jane immediately 
 saw through the plot. Her mother was pen- 
 sive and anxious. Her friends were voluble, 
 and prodigal of sly intimations. The young 
 gentleman was very lavish of his powers of 
 pleasing, loaded Jane with flippant compliments, 
 devoured confectionary with high relish, and 
 chattered most flippantly in the most approved 
 style of fashionable inanition. The high-spir- 
 ited girl had no idea of being thus disposed of 
 in the matrimonial bazar. The profession of 
 the doctor was pleasing to her, as it promised 
 an enlightened mind, and she was willing to 
 consent to make his acquaintance. Her moth- 
 er urged her to decide at once. 
 
 " What, mother !" she exclaimed, " wculd 
 you have me take one for ray husband upon the 
 trength of a single interview ?" 
 
 " It is not exactly so," she replied. " Thi
 
 I772.J MAIDENHOOD. 65 
 
 The physician taken on trial The connection broken off 
 
 young gentleman's intimacy with our friends 
 enables us to judge of his conduct and way of 
 life. We know his disposition. These are the 
 main points. You have attained the proper age 
 to be settled in the world. You have refused 
 many offers from tradesmen, and it is from that 
 class alone that you are likely to receive ad- 
 dresses. You seem fully resolved never to mar- 
 ry a man in business. You may never have 
 another such offer. The present match is very 
 eligible in every external point of view. Be- 
 ware how you reject it too lightly." 
 
 Jane, thus urged, consented to .see the young 
 physician at her father's house, that she might 
 become acquainted with him. She, however, 
 determined that no earthly power should induce 
 her to marry him, unless she found in him a 
 congenial spirit. Fortunately, she was saved 
 all further trouble in the matter by a dispute 
 which arose between her lover and her father 
 respecting the pecuniary arrangements, and 
 which broke off all further connection between 
 the parties. 
 
 Her mother's health now began rapidly to 
 decline. A stroke of palsy deprived her of her 
 accustomed elasticity of spirits, and, secluding 
 
 herself from society, she became silent and a<7 
 185
 
 66 MADAME ROLAND. [1772 
 
 LBneu of Jane's mother. The )rveler 
 
 In view of approaching death, she often lament- 
 ed that she could not see her daughter well 
 married before she left the world. An offer 
 which Jane received from a very honest, in- 
 dustrious, and thrifty jeweler, aroused anew a 
 mother's maternal solicitude. 
 
 "Why," she exclaimed, with melancholy 
 earnestness, " will you reject this y.Ming man? 
 He has an amiable disposition, and high repu- 
 tation for integrity and sobriety. He is already 
 in easy circumstances, and is in a fair way of 
 soon acquiring a brilliant fortune. He knows 
 that you have a superior mind. He professes 
 great esteem for you, and will be proud of fol- 
 lowing your advice. You might lead him in 
 any way you like." 
 
 " But, my dear mother, I do not want a hus- 
 band who is to be led. He would be too cum- 
 bersome a child for me to take care of." 
 
 " Do you know that you are a very whimsi- 
 cal girl, my child ? And how do you think you 
 would like a husband who was your master and 
 tyrant?" , 
 
 " I certainly," Jane replied, " should not like 
 a man who assumed airs of authority, for thai 
 would only provoke me to resist. But I am 
 Bure that I could never bve a husVand vhora b
 
 1772.] MAIDENHOOD. 67 
 
 Jane's vie wi of congeniality between man ai d wife. 
 
 was necessary for me to govern. I should be 
 ashamed of my own power." 
 
 " I understand you, Jane. You would like 
 to have a man think himself the master, while 
 he obeyed you in every particular." 
 
 " No, mother, it is not that either. I hate 
 servitude ; but empire would only embarrass 
 me. I wish to gain the affections of a man 
 who would make his happiness consist in con- 
 tributing to mine, as his good sense and regard 
 for me should dictate." 
 
 "But, my daughter, there would be hardly 
 such a thing in the world as a happy couple, if 
 happiness could not exist without that perfect 
 congeniality of taste and opinions which you 
 imagine to be so necessary." 
 
 " I do not know, mother, of a single person 
 whose happiness I envy." 
 
 " Very well ; but among those matches which 
 you do not envy, there may be some far pref- 
 erable to remaining always single. I may be 
 called out of the world sooner than you imag- 
 ine. Your father is still young. I can not tell 
 you all the disagreeat le things my fondness for 
 you makes me fear. I should be indeed happy, 
 could I see you united to some worthy man be- 
 fore t die."
 
 68 MADAME ROLAM. [1773 
 
 Her mother 1 death. 
 
 This was the first time that the idea of hei 
 mother's death ever seriously entered the mind 
 of Jane. With an eager gaze, she fixed her eye 
 apon her pals and wasted cheek and her ema- 
 oiate frame, and the dreadful truth, with the 
 suddenness of a revelation, burst upon her. 
 Her whole frame shook with emotion, and she 
 burst into a flood of tears. Her mother, much 
 moved, tried to console her. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed, my dear child," said 
 she, tenderly. " I am not dangerously ill. But 
 in forming our plans, we should take into con- 
 sideration all chances. A worthy man offers 
 you his hand. You have now attained your 
 twentieth year. You can not expect as many 
 suitors as you have had for the last five years. 
 I may be suddenly taken from you. Do not, 
 then, reject a husband who, it is true, has not 
 all the refinement you could desire, but who will 
 love you, and with whom you can be happy." 
 
 " ^ es, my dear mother," exclaimed Jane, 
 with a deep and impassioned sigh, " as happy 
 you have be*en." 
 
 The expression escaped her in the excitement 
 of the moment. Never before had she ventured 
 in the remotest way to allude to the total want 
 f congeniality which she could not but per-
 
 1773.] MAIDENHOOD. 69 
 
 Jue'i father becomes dissipated. Meekness of her nu.tbtM 
 
 oeive existed between her father and her moth- 
 er. Indeed, her mother's character for patience 
 and placid submission was so remarkable, that 
 Jane did not know how deeply she had suffer- 
 tsd, nor what a life of martyrdom she was lead- 
 ing. The effect of Jane's unpremeditated re- 
 mark opened her eyes to the sad reality. Her 
 mother was greatly disconcerted. Her cheek 
 changed color. Her lip trembled. She made 
 no reply. She never again opened her lips upon 
 the subject of the marriage of her child. 
 
 The father of Jane, with no religious belief 
 to control his passions or guide his conduct, was 
 gradually falling into those habits of dissipation 
 to which he was peculiarly exposed by the char- 
 acter of the times. He neglected his business. 
 He formed disreputable acquaintances. He be- 
 came irritable and domineering over his wife, 
 and was often absent from home, with convivial 
 clubs, until a late hour of the night. Neither 
 mother nor daughter ever uttered one word to 
 each other in reference to the failings of the 
 husband and father. Jane, however, had so 
 powerful an influence over him, that she often, 
 by her persuasive skill, averted the storm which 
 was about to descend upon her meek and unre- 
 sisting parent.
 
 70 MADAME ROLAND. [1773 
 
 Kxcunlon to the country. Delusive hopes 
 
 The poor mother, in silence and sorrow, was 
 sinking to the tomb far more rapidly than Jane 
 imagined. One summer's day, the father, moth- 
 er, and daughter took a short excursion into the 
 country. The day was warm and beautiful. 
 In a little boat they glided over the pleasant 
 waters of the Seine, feasting their eyes with the 
 beauties of nature and art which fringed the 
 shores. The pale cheek of the dying wife be- 
 came flushed with animation as she once again 
 breathed the invigorating air of the country, 
 and the daughter beguiled her fears with the 
 delusive hope that it was the flush of returning 
 health. When they reached their home, Ma- 
 dame Phlippon, fatigued with the excursion, 
 retired to her chamber for rest. Jane, accom- 
 panied by her maid, went to the convent to caL 
 upon her old friends the nuns. She made ft 
 very short call. 
 
 " Why are you in such haste ?" inquired Sis- 
 ter Agatha. 
 
 "I am anxious to return to my -other." 
 " But you told me that she was better." 
 " She is much better than usual. But I have 
 a strange feeling of solicitude about her. I shall 
 not feel easy until I see her again." 
 
 She hurried home, and was met at the door
 
 1774.J MAIDENHOOD. 71 
 
 Death of Madame Phlippon. Effecti upon JUM 
 
 by a little girl, who informed her that her moth- 
 er was very dangerously ilL She flew to the 
 room, and found her almost lifeless. Another 
 stroke of paralysis had done its work, and she 
 was dying. She raised her languid eyes to her 
 child, but her palsied tongue could speak no 
 word of tenderness. One arm only obeyed the 
 impulse of her will. She raised it, and affec- 
 tionately patted the cheek of her beloved daugh- 
 ter, and wiped the tears which were flowing 
 down her cheeks. The priest came to admin- 
 ister the last consolations of religion. Jane, 
 with her eyes riveted upon her dying parent, 
 endeavored to hold the light. Overpowered 
 with anguish, the light suddenly dropped from 
 her hand, and she fell senseless upon the floor. 
 When she recovered from this swoon her moth- 
 er was dead. 
 
 Jane was entirely overwhelmed with uncon- 
 trollable and delirious sorrow. For many days 
 it was apprehended thather own life would fall 
 a sacrifice to the blow which her affections had 
 received. Instead of being a support to the 
 family in this hour cf trial, she added to the 
 burden and the care. The Abbe Logrand, who 
 stood by her bedside as her whole frame was 
 shaken by convulsions, very sensibly remarked,
 
 72 MADAME ROLAKD. [1774 
 
 Character of bar mother 
 
 " It it a good thing to possess sensibility. It is 
 rery unfortunate to have so much of it." Grad- 
 ually Jane regained composure, but life, to her, 
 was darkened. She now began to realize all 
 those evils which her fond mother had appre- 
 hended. Speaking of her departed parent, she 
 says, " The world never contained a better or a 
 more amiable woman. There was nothing brill- 
 iant in her character, but she possessed every 
 quality to endear her to all by whom she was 
 known. Naturally endowed with the sweetest 
 disposition, virtue seemed never to cost Jier any 
 effort Her pure and tranquil spirit pursued its 
 even course like the docile stream that bathes 
 with equal gentleness, the foot of the rock which 
 holds it captive, and the valley which it at once 
 enriches and adorns. With her death was con- 
 cluded the tranquillity of my youth, which till 
 then was passed in the enjoyment of blissful 
 affections and beloved occupations." 
 
 Jane soon found her parental home, indeed, 
 a melancholy abode. She was truly alone in 
 the world. Her father now began to advance 
 with more rapid footsteps in the career of dissi- 
 pation. A victim to that infidelity which pre- 
 sents no obstacle to crime, he yielded himself a 
 willing captive to the dominion of passion, and
 
 1774.J MAIDENHOOD. 73 
 
 Jane's melancholy. 8he resorts to writing. 
 
 disorder reigned through the desolated house- 
 hold. Jane had the mortification of seeing a 
 woman received into the family to take her 
 mother's place, in a union unsanctified by the 
 taws of God. A deep melancholy settled down 
 upon the mind of the wounded girl, and she 
 felt that she was desolate and an alien in her 
 own home. She shut herself up in her cham- 
 ber with her thoughts and her books. All the 
 chords of her sensitive nature now vibrated only 
 responsive to those melancholy tones which are 
 the dirges of the broken heart. As there never 
 was genius untinged by melancholy, so may it 
 be doubted whether there ever was greatness 
 of character which had not been nurtured in the 
 school of great affliction. Her heart now began 
 to feel irrepressible longings for the sympathy 
 of some congenial friend, upon whose support- 
 ing bosom she could lean her aching head. In 
 lonely musings she solaced herself, and nurtur- 
 ed her own thoughts by writing. Her pen be- 
 came her friend, and the resource of every 
 weary hour. She freely gave utterance in her 
 diary to all her feelings and all her emotions 
 Her manuscripts of abstracts, and extracts, and 
 original thoughts, became quite voluminous 
 In this way she was daily cultivating that paw
 
 74 MADAME ROLAND. [1775 
 
 Deralopment of character. Letter from If. BolonoreL 
 
 er of expression and that force of eloquence 
 which so often, in subsequent life, astonished 
 and oharmed her friends. 
 
 In every development of character in her most 
 eventful future career, one can distinctly trace 
 the influence of these vicissitudes of early life, 
 and of these impressions thus powerfully stamp- 
 ed upon her nature. Philosophy, romance, and 
 religious sentiment, an impassioned mind and 
 a glowing heart, admiration of heroism, and 
 emulation of martyrdom in some noble cause, 
 all conspired to give her sovereignty over the 
 affections of others, and to enable her to sway 
 human wills almost at pleasure. 
 
 M. Boismorel, husband of the aristocratic lady 
 to whom Jane once paid so disagreeable a vis- 
 it, called one day at the shop of M. Phlippon, 
 and the proud father could not refrain from 
 showing him some of the writings of Jane. 
 The nobleman had sense enough to be very 
 much pleased with the talent which they dis- 
 played, and wrote her a very flattering letter, 
 offering her the ,free use of his very valuable 
 library, and urging her to devote her life to lit- 
 erary pursuits, and at once to commence au- 
 thorship. Jane was highly gratified by this 
 commendation, and most eagerly availed her-
 
 1775.] MAIDENHOOD. 75 
 
 Reply to M. De BoUmoreL Traatlatioa. 
 
 elf of his most valuable offer. In reply to his 
 suggestion respecting authorship, she inclosed 
 the following lines : 
 
 " Aux hommes ouvrant la carriers 
 Des grands et das nobles talents, 
 
 Us ii 'out mis aucune barriere 
 A leurs plus sublimes Claris. 
 
 ' De mon sexe foible et sensible, 
 Us ne veulout qne des vertus ; 
 Nous pouvons imiter Titus, 
 
 Mais dans un sentier moins penible. 
 
 " Joossiez du bien d'etre adrais 
 A toutes ces sortes de gloire 
 Pour nous le temple de memoire 
 Est dans le cceurs de nos amis." 
 
 These lines have been thus vigorously trans- 
 lated in the interesting sketch given by Mra 
 Child of Madame Roland : 
 
 " To man's aspiring sex 'tis given 
 
 To climb the highest hill of fame } 
 To tread the shortest road to heaven, 
 And gain by death a deathless name. 
 
 " Of well-fought fields and trophies won 
 The memory lives while ages pass ; 
 Graven on everlasting stone, 
 Or written on retentive brass. 
 
 But to poor feeble womankind 
 The meed of glory is denied ; 
 Within a narrow sphere confined. 
 The lowly virtues are their pride
 
 76 MADAME ROLAND. [1775 
 
 Character of M. De BoismoreL Jane introduced to the uobffit? 
 
 " Yet not deciduous is their fame, 
 
 Ending wnere frail existence endsj 
 A sacred temple holds their name- 
 The heart of their surviving friends." 
 
 A friendly correspondence ensued between 
 Jane and M. De Boismofel, which continued 
 through his life. He was a very worthy and 
 intelligent man, and became so much interest- 
 ed in his young friend, that he wished to con- 
 nect her in marriage with his son. This young 
 man was indolent and irresolute hi character, 
 and his father thought that he would be great- 
 ly benefited by a wife of decision and judgment. 
 Jane, however, was no more disposed to fall in 
 love with rank than with wealth, and took no 
 fancy whatever to the characterless young no- 
 bleman. The judicious father saw that it 
 would be utterly unavailing to urge the suit, 
 and the matter was dropped. 
 
 Through the friendship of M. De Boismorel, 
 she was often introduced to the great world of 
 lords and ladies. Even his formal and haughty 
 wife became much interested in the fascinating 
 young lady, and her brilliant talents and ac- 
 complishments secured her invitations to many 
 social interviews to which she would not have 
 been entitled by her birth. This slight ac- 
 quaintance with tne nobility of France did not,
 
 1775.] MAIDENHOOD. 77 
 
 Jane contempt for the aristocracy. Her good tart* 
 
 however, elevate them in her esteem. 8h 
 found the conversation of the old marquises and 
 antiquated dowagers who frequented the salcor 
 of Madame De Boismorel more insipid end 
 literate than that of the tradespeople who vis- 
 ited her father's shop, and upon whom those 
 nobles looked down with such contempt. Jane 
 was also disgusted with the many indications 
 she saw, not only of indolence and voluptuous- 
 ness, but of dissipation and utter want of prin- 
 ciple. Her good sense enabled her to move 
 among these people as a studious observer of 
 this aspect of human nature, neither adopting 
 their costume nor imitating their manners. She 
 was very unostentatious and simple in her style 
 of dress, and never, in the slightest degree, af- 
 fected the mannerism of mindless and he Tfr- 
 less fashion. 
 
 Madame De Boismorel, at one time eulogiz- 
 ing her taste in these respects, remarked, 
 
 " You do not love feathers, do you, Miss 
 Phlippon? How very different you are from 
 the giddy-headed girls around us !" 
 
 " I never wear feathers," Jane replied, " oe- 
 oause I do not think that they would correspond 
 with the condition in life of an artist's daugh- 
 ter who is going about on foot."
 
 78 MADAME ROLAND. [177& 
 
 M. ThBpponi progres in dissipation. Jane' painful tituatlo" 
 
 " But, were you in a different situation in 
 life, would you then wear feathers ?" 
 
 "I do not know what I should do in that 
 case. I attach very slight importance to such 
 trifles. I merely consider what is suitable foi 
 myself, and should be very sorry to judge of 
 others by the superficial information afforded 
 by their dress." 
 
 M. Phlippon now began to advance more rap- 
 Idly in the career of dissipation. Jane did ev- 
 ery thing in her power to lure him to love his 
 home. All her efforts were entirely unavail- 
 ing. Night after night he was absent until the 
 Jatest hours at convivial clubs and card-parties 
 He formed acquaintance with those with whom 
 Jane could not only have no congeniality of 
 taste, but who must have excited in her emo- 
 tions of the deepest repugnance. These com- 
 panions were often at his house ; and the com- 
 fortable property which M. Phlippon possessed, 
 under this course of dissipation was fast melt- 
 ing away. Jane's situation was now painful in 
 the extreme. Ijfer mother, who had been the 
 guardian angel of her life, was sleeping in the 
 grave Her father was advancing with the 
 most rapid strides in the road to ruin. Jane 
 was in danger of soon being left an orphan and
 
 1775.J MAIDENHOOD. 79 
 
 Jane tecures a m%U income. CcmsolatlojB of literatim*. 
 
 utterly penniless. Her father was daily becom- 
 ing more neglectful and unkind to his daughter, 
 as he became more dissatisfied with himself 
 and with the world. Under these circum- 
 stances, Jane, by the advice of friends, had re- 
 ort to a legal process, by which there was se- 
 eured to her, from the wreck of her mother's 
 fortune, an annual income of-about one hund- 
 red dollars. 
 
 In these gloomy hours which clouded the 
 morning of life's tempestuous day, Jane found 
 an unfailing resource and solace in her love of 
 literature. With pen in hand, extracting beau- 
 tiful passages and expanding suggested thoughts, 
 she forgot her griefs and beguiled many hours, 
 which would otherwise have been burdened 
 with intolerable wretchedness. Maria Antoi- 
 nette, woe- worn and weary, in tones of despair 
 uttered the exclamation, " Oh ' what a resource, 
 amid the casualties of life, must there be in a 
 highly-cultivated mind." The plebeian maid- 
 en could utter the same exclamation in accent* 
 of joyfulness.
 
 80 MADAME ROLAND. [177C 
 
 ophla Cannet. RoUnd do U PiUtAw 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 MARRIAGE. 
 
 TTfTHEN Jane was in the convent, she be- 
 ' came acquainted with a young lady from 
 Amiens, Sophia Cannet. They formed for each 
 other a strong attachment, and commenced a 
 correspondence which continued for many years. 
 There was a gentleman in Amiens by the name 
 of Roland de la Platiere, born of an opulent 
 family, and holding the quite important office 
 of inspector of manufactures.. His time was 
 mainly occupied in traveling and study. Being 
 deeply interested in all subjects relating to po- 
 litical economy, he had devoted much attention 
 to that noble science, and had written several 
 treatises upon commerce, mechanics, and agri- 
 culture, which had given him, in the literary 
 and scientific world, no little celebrity. He fre- 
 quently visited the father of Sophia. She often 
 spoke to him of her friend Jane, showed him 
 her portrait, and read to him extracts from her 
 glowing letters. The calm philosopher became 
 very much interested in the enthusiastic maid
 
 1776.] MARRIAGE. 81 
 
 M. Roland. Hi* personal appearance. 
 
 en, and entreated Sophia to give him a letter 
 of introduction to her, upon one of his annual 
 visits to Paris. Sophia had also often written 
 to Jano of her father's friend, whom she regard- 
 ed with so much reverence. 
 
 One day Jane was sitting alone in her deso- 
 late home, absorbed in pensive musings, when 
 M. Roland entered, bearing a letter of introduc- 
 tion to her from Sophia. " You will receive 
 this letter," her friend wrote, " by the hand of 
 the philosopher of whom I have so often writ- 
 ten to you. M. Roland is an enlightened man, 
 of antique manners, without reproach, except 
 for his passion for the ancients, his contempt for 
 the moderns, and his too high estimation of his 
 own virtue." 
 
 The gentleman thus introduced to her was 
 about forty years old. He was tall, slender, 
 and well formed, with a little stoop in his gait, 
 and manifested in his manners that self-pos- 
 session which is the result of conscious worth 
 and intellectual power, while, at the same time, 
 he exhibited that slight and not displeasing 
 awkwardness which one unavoidably acquires 
 in hours devoted to silence and study. Still, 
 Madame Roland says, in her description of his 
 
 person, that he was courteous and winning \ 
 
 186
 
 82 MADAME ROLAND. [1777 
 
 Character of M. Roland. Firrt bnpiwutoa* 
 
 and though his manners did not possess all the 
 easy elegance of the man of fashion, they unit- 
 ed the politeness of the well-bred man with the 
 anostentatious gravity of the philosopher. Ho 
 was thin, with a complexion much tanned. His 
 broad and intellectual brow, covered with but 
 few hairs, added to the imposing attractiveness 
 of his features. When listening, his counte- 
 nance had an expression of deep thoughtful- 
 ness, and almost of sadness ; but when excited 
 in speaking, a smile of great cheerfulness spread 
 over his animated features. His voice was rich 
 and sonorous ; his mode of speech brief and sen- 
 tentious ; his conversation full of information, 
 and rich in suggestive thought. 
 
 Jane, the enthusiastic, romantic Jane, saw in 
 the serene philosopher one of the sages of anti- 
 quity, and almost literally bowed and worship- 
 ed. All the sentiments of M. Roland were in 
 accordance with the most cherished emotions 
 which glowed in her own mind. She found 
 what she had ever been seeking, but had never 
 found before, a truly sympathetic soul. She 
 thought not of love. She looked up to M. Ro- 
 land as to a superior being to an oracle, by 
 wnoee decisions she could judge whether he? 
 wn opinions were right or wrong. It is tru
 
 1777.] MARRIAGE. 83 
 
 Jane 8 appreciation of M. Roland. Mind* and heart*. 
 
 that M. Roland, cool and unimpassioned in all 
 his mental operations, never entered those airy 
 realms of beauty and those visionary regions of 
 romance where Jane loved, at times, to reveL 
 And perhaps Jane venerated him still more for 
 his more stern and unimaginative philosophy. 
 But his meditative wisdom, his abstraction from 
 the frivolous pursuits of life, his high ambition, 
 his elevated pleasures, his consciousness of su- 
 periority over the mass of his fellow-men, and 
 his sleepless desire to be a benefactor of human- 
 ity, were all traits of character which resistless- 
 ly attracted the admiration of Jane. She ador- 
 ed him as a disciple adores his master. She 
 listened eagerly to all his words, and loved com- 
 munion with his thoughts. M. Roland was by 
 no means insensible to this homage, and though 
 he looked upon her with none of the emotions 
 of a lover, he was charmed with her society be- 
 cause she was so delighted with his own conver 
 Ration. By the faculty of attentively listening 
 to what others had to say, Madame Roland 
 affirms that she made more friends than by any 
 remarks she ever made of her own. The two 
 minds, not hearts, were at once united; but 
 this platonio union soon led to one more tender. 
 M. Roland had recently been traveling in
 
 MADAME ROLAND. (1777 
 
 Jownul of M. Roland. HU notei on Italy 
 
 Germany, and had written a copious journal 
 of his tour. As he was about to depart from 
 Paris for Italy, he left this journal, with othei 
 manuscripts, in the hands of Jane. " These 
 manuscripts," she writes, " made me better ac- 
 quainted with him, during the eighteen months 
 he passed in Italy, than frequent visits could 
 have done. They consisted of travels, reflec- 
 tions, plans of literary works, and personal an- 
 ecdotes. A strong mind, striot principles, and 
 personal taste, were evident in every page." 
 He also introduced Jane to his brother, a Ben- 
 edictine monk. During the eighteen months of 
 his absence from Paris, he was traveling in It- 
 aly, Switzerland, Sicily, and Malta, and writ- 
 ing notes upon those countries, which he after- 
 ward published. These notes he communicat- 
 ed to his brother the monk, and he transmitted 
 them to Jane. She read them with intense in- 
 terest. At length he returned again to Paris, 
 and their acquaintance was renewed. M. Ro- 
 land submitted to her his literary projects, and 
 was much gratified in finding that she approved 
 of all that he did and all that he contemplated. 
 She found in him an invaluable friend. His 
 gravity, his intellectual life ; his almost stoioa. 
 philosophy impressed her imagination and cap-
 
 1778.] MA*RIAE. 85 
 
 Tie light IB which Jane and M. Roland regard each other. 
 
 tivated her understanding. Two or three yean 
 passed away ere either of them seemed to have 
 thought of the other in the light of a lover. 
 She regarded him as a guide and friend. Tnere 
 was no ardor of youthful love warming her 
 heart. There were no impassioned affections 
 glowing in her bosom and impelling her to his 
 side. Intellectual enthusiasm alone animated 
 her in welcoming an intellectual union with a 
 noble mind. M. Roland, on the other hand, 
 looked with placid and paternal admiration upon 
 the brilliant girl. He was captivated by her 
 genius and the charms of her conversation, and, 
 above all, by her profound admiration of him- 
 self. They were mutually happy in each oth- 
 er's society, and were glad to meet and loth to 
 part. They conversed upon literary projects, 
 upon political reforms, upon speculations in phi- 
 losophy and science. M. Roland was natural- 
 ly self-confident, opinionated, and domineering. 
 Jane regarded him with so much reverence that 
 she received his opinions for law. Thus he was 
 flattered and she was happy. 
 
 M. Roland returned to his official post at 
 Amiens, and engaged in preparing his work on 
 Italy for the press. They carried on a volurai- 
 DODS and regular correspondence He forward
 
 86 MADAME ROLAND. [1778 
 
 M. Roland profciMM hU attachment Foelingt of Jane 
 
 ed to her, in manuscript, all the sheets of his 
 proposed publication, and she returned them 
 with the accompanying thoughts which their 
 perusa 1 elicited. Now and then an expression 
 of decorous endearment would escape from each 
 pen in the midst of philosophic discussions and 
 political speculations. It was several years aft- 
 er their acquaintance commenced before M. Ro- 
 land made an avowal of his attachment. Jane 
 knew very well the pride of the Roland family, 
 and that her worldly circumstances were such 
 that, in their estimation, the connection would 
 not seem an advantageous one. She also was 
 too proud to enter into a family who might feel 
 dishonored by the alliance. She therefore frank- 
 ly told him that she felt much honored by his 
 addresses, and that she esteemed him more 
 highly than any other man she had ever met. 
 She assured him that she should be most happy 
 to make him a full return for his affection, but 
 that her father was a ruined man, and that, by 
 his increasing debts and his errors of character, 
 still deeper disgrace might be entailed upon all 
 connected with him ; and she therefore could 
 iiot think of allowing M. Roland to make his 
 generosity to her a source of future mortifica- 
 tion to himself
 
 1778.] MARRIAGE. 87 
 
 M Roland write* to Jne' father, hualtiag letter of If. Phllppoa. 
 
 This was not the spirit most likely to repel 
 the philosophic lover. The more she manifest- 
 ed this elevation of soul, in which Jane was 
 perfectly sincere, the more earnestly did M. Ro- 
 land persist in his plea. At last Jane, influ- 
 enced by his entreaties, consented that he 
 should make proposals to her father. He wrote 
 to M. Phlippon. In reply, he received an in- 
 sulting letter, containing a blunt refusal. M. 
 Phlippon declared that he had no idea of hav- 
 ing for a son-in-law a man of such rigid princi- 
 ples, who would ever be reproaching him for all 
 his little errors. He also told his daughter that 
 she would find in a man of such austere virtue, 
 not a companion and an equal, but a censor 
 and a tyrant. Jane laid this refusal of her fa- 
 ther deeply to heart, and, resolving that if she 
 could not marry the man of her choice, she 
 would marry no one else, she wrote to M. Ro- 
 land, requesting him to abandon his design, and 
 not to expose himself to any further affronts. 
 She then requested permission of her father to 
 retire to a convent. 
 
 Her reception at the convent, where she wai 
 already held in such high esteem, was cordial 
 in the extreme. The scanty income she had 
 aved from her mother's property rendered it
 
 88 MADAME ROLAND. [1778 
 
 Jane retire* to convent Her mode of life there 
 
 necessary for her to live with the utmost fru- 
 gality. She determined to regulate her ex- 
 penses in accordance with this small sum. Po- 
 tatoes, rice, and beans, with a little salt, and 
 occasionally the luxury of a little butter, were 
 her only food. She allowed herself to leave the 
 convent but twice a week : once, to call, for an 
 hour, upon a relative, and once to visit her fa- 
 ther, and look over his linen. She had a little 
 room under the roof, in the attic, where the 
 pattering of the rain upon the tiles soothed to 
 pensive thought, and lulled her to sleep by 
 night. She carefully secluded herself from as- 
 sociation with the other inmates of the convent, 
 receiving only a visit of an hour each evening 
 from the much-loved Sister Agatha. Her time 
 she devoted, with unremitting diligence, to those 
 literary avocations in which she found so much 
 delight. The quiet and seclusion of this life 
 had many charms for Jane. Indeed, a person 
 with such resources for enjoyment within her- 
 self could never be very weary. The votaries 
 of fashion and gayety are they to whom exist- 
 ence grows languid and life a burden. Several 
 months thus glided away in tranquillity. She 
 occasionally walked in the garden, at hour* 
 when no one else was there. The spirit of re*-
 
 1779J MARRIA6E. 89 
 
 Correspondence with M. Roland. He n+*rcu to Pirta. 
 
 ignation, which she had so long cultivated ; the 
 peaceful conscience she enjoyed, in view of 
 duty performed ; the elevation of spirit, which 
 enabled her to rise superior to misfortune ; the 
 methodical arrangement of time, which assign- 
 ed to each hour its appropriate duty ; the habit 
 of close application, which riveted her attention 
 to her studies ; the highly-cultivated taste and 
 buoyantly - winged imagination, which opened 
 before her all the fairy realms of fancy, were 
 treasures which gilded her cell and enriched 
 her heart. She passed, it is true, some melan- 
 choly hours ; but even that melancholy had ita 
 charms, and was more rich in enjoyment than 
 the most mirthful moments through which the 
 unreflecting flutter. M. Roland continued a 
 very constant and kind correspondence with 
 Jane, but she was not a little wounded by the 
 philosophic resignation with which he submit- 
 ted to her father's stern refusal. In the course 
 of five or six months he again visited Paris, and 
 called at the convent to see Jane. He saw her 
 pale and pensive face behind a grating, and the 
 sight of one who had suffered so much from her 
 faithful love for him, and the sound of her voice, 
 which ever possessed a peculiar charm, revived 
 UD his mind those impressions which had been
 
 MADAME ROLAND. [1780. 
 
 M. Roland renews fain offers to Jane. They r married. 
 
 somewhat fading away. He again renewed his 
 offer, and entreated her to aJlow the marriage 
 ceremony at once to be performed by his broth 
 er the prior. Jane was in much perplexity. 
 She did not feel that her father was in a situ 
 ation longer to control her, and she was a little 
 mortified by the want of ardor which her phil- 
 osophical lover had displayed. The illusion of 
 romantic love was entirely dispelled from her 
 mind, and, at the same time, she felt flattered 
 by his perseverance, by the evidence that his 
 most mature judgment approved of his choice, 
 and by his readiness to encounter all the un- 
 pleasant circumstances in which he might be 
 involved by his alliance with her. Jane, with- 
 out much delay, yielded to his appeals. They 
 were married in the winter of 1780. Jane was 
 then twenty-five years of age. Her husband 
 was twenty years her senior. 
 
 The first year of their marriage life they 
 passed in Paris. It was to Madame Roland a 
 year of great enjoyment. Her husband was 
 publishing a work upon the arts, and she, with 
 all tae energy of her enthusiastic mind, entered 
 into all his literary enterprises. With great 
 care and accuracy, she prepared his manuscripts 
 for the press, and corrected the proofs. She
 
 1780.] MARRIAGE. 91 
 
 Pint year of married life. Madame Roland's devotion to her buibaad. 
 
 lived in the study with him, became the com- 
 panion of all his thoughts, and his assistant in 
 all his labors. The only recreations in which 
 she indulged, during the winter, were to attend 
 a course of lectures upon natural history and 
 botany. M. Roland had hired ready-furnished 
 lodgings. She, well instructed by her mother 
 in domestic duties, observing that all kinds of 
 cooking did not agree with him, took pleasure 
 in preparing his food with her own hands. Her 
 husband engrossed her whole time, and, being 
 naturally rather austere and imperious, he wish- 
 ed so to seclude her from the society of others 
 as to monopolize all her capabilities of friendly 
 feeling. She submitted to the exaction without 
 a murmur, though there were hours in which 
 she felt that she had made, indeed, a serious 
 sacrifice of her youthful and buoyant affections. 
 Madame Roland devoted herself so entirely to 
 the studies in which her husband was engaged 
 that her health was seriously impaired. Accus- 
 tomed as she was to share in all his pursuits, 
 he began to think that he could not do without 
 her at any time or on any occasion. 
 
 At the close of the year M. Roland returned 
 to Amiens with his wife. She soon gave birth 
 to a daughter, her only child, whom she mur*
 
 92 MADAME ROLAND. [1780. 
 
 Birth of daughter. Literary pursuit* 
 
 tured with the most assiduous care. Her lit- 
 erary labors were, however, unremitted, and, 
 though a mother and a nurse, she still lived in 
 the study with her books and her pen. M. Ro- 
 land was writing several articles for an ency- 
 clopedia. She aided most efficiently in collect- 
 ing the materials and arranging the matter. 
 Indeed, she wielded a far more vigorous pen 
 than he did. Her copiousness of language, her 
 facility of expression, and the play of her fancy, 
 gave her the command of a very fascinating 
 style ; and M. Roland obtained the credit for 
 many passages rich in diction and beautiful in 
 'imagery for which he was indebted to the glow- 
 Ing imagination of his wife. Frequent sickness 
 of her husband alarmed her for his life. The 
 tenderness with which she watched over him 
 strengthened the tie which united them. He 
 could not but love a young and beautiful wife 
 so devoted to him. She could not but love one 
 upon whom she was conferring such rich bless- 
 ings. They remained in Amiens for four years. 
 Their little daughter Eudora was a source of 
 gieat delight to the fond parents, arid Madame 
 Roland took the deepest interest in the devel- 
 opments of her infantile mind. The office of 
 M.Roland was highly lucrative, and his liter-
 
 1780.J MARRIAOB. 93 
 
 Application for letters-patent of nobility. Visit to England. 
 
 ary projects successful; and their position in 
 society was that of an opulent family of illus- 
 trious descent for the ancestors of M. Roland 
 had been nobles. He now, with his accumu- 
 lated wealth, was desirous of being reinstated 
 in that ancestral rank which the family had 
 lost with the loss of fortune. Neither must we 
 blame our republican heroine too much that, 
 under this change of circumstances, she was 
 not unwilling that he should resume that ex- 
 alted social position to which she believed him 
 to be so richly entitled. It could hardly be un- 
 pleasant to her to be addressed as Lady Roland. 
 It is the infirmity of our frail nature that it is 
 more agreeable to ascend to the heights of those 
 who are above us, than to aid those below to 
 reach the level we have attained. Encounter- 
 ing some embarrassments in their application 
 for letters-patent of nobility, the subject was 
 set aside for the time, and was never after re- 
 newed. The attempt, however, subsequently 
 exposed them to great ridicule from their dem- 
 ocratic opponents. 
 
 About this time they visited England. They 
 were received with much attention, and Ma- 
 dame Roland admired exceedingly the compar- 
 atively free institutions of that country. She
 
 94 MADAME ROLAND. [1780. 
 
 RemoTsI to Lyon*. La PlmtUra uu) iU tomato* 
 
 felt that the English, as a nation, were im- 
 measurably superior to the French, and return- 
 ee] to her own home more than ever dissatisfied 
 with the despotic monarchy by which the peo 
 pie of France were oppressed. 
 
 From Amiens, M. Roland removed to the 
 city of Lyons, his native place, in which wider 
 sphere he continued the duties of his office as 
 Inspector General of Commerce and Manufac- 
 tures. In the winter they resided in the city. 
 During the summer they retired to M. Roland's 
 paternal estate, La Platiere, a very beautiful 
 rural retreat but a few miles from Lyons. The 
 mother of M. Roland and an elder brother resid- 
 ed on the same estate. They constituted the 
 ingredient of bitterness in their cup of joy. It 
 seems that in this life it must ever be that each 
 pleasure shall have its pain. No happiness can 
 oorne unalloyed. La Platiere possessed for Ma- 
 dame Roland all the essentials of an earthly 
 paradise ; but those trials which are the unva- 
 rying lot of fallen humanity obtained entrance 
 there. Her mother-in-law was proud, imperi- 
 ous, ignorant, petulant, and disagreeable in ev- 
 ery development of character. There are few 
 greater annoyances of life than an irritable 
 woman, rendered doubly morose by the infirm-
 
 1780.] MARRIAGE. 90 
 
 Death of M. Roland'* mother. Situation of La t u*Um 
 
 ities of years. The brother was coarse and ar- 
 rogant, without any delicacy of feeling himself, 
 and apparently unconscious that others could 
 be troubled by any such sensitiveness. The 
 disciplined spirit of Madame Roland triumphed 
 over even these annoyances, and she gradually 
 infused through the discordant household, by 
 her own cheerful spirit, a great improvement 
 in harmony and peace. It is not, however, 
 possible that Madame Roland should have shed 
 many tears when, on one bright autumnal day, 
 this hasty tongue and turbulent spirit were 
 hushed in that repose from which there is nc 
 awaking. Immediately after this event, at- 
 tracted by the quiet of this secluded retreat, 
 they took up their abode there for both sum- 
 mer and winter. 
 
 La Platiere, the paternal inheritance of M 
 Roland, was an estate situated at the base of 
 the mountains of Beaujolais, in the valley of 
 the Saone. It is a region solitary and wild, with 
 rivulets, meandering down from the mountains, 
 fringed with willows and poplars, and thread- 
 ing their way through narrow, yet smooth ant* 
 fertile meadows, luxuriant with vineyards. A 
 large, square stone i&ouse, with regular win- 
 dows, and a roof, nearly flat . of red tiles,
 
 96 MADAME ROLAND. [1781 
 
 Description of La Platifire. Surrounding scenery 
 
 stituted the comfortable, spacious, and substan- 
 tial mansion. The eaves projected quite a dis- 
 tance beyond the walls, to protect the windows 
 frDin the summer's sun and the winter's rain 
 and snow. The external walls, straight, and 
 entirely unornamented, were covered with white 
 plaster, which, in many places, the storms of 
 years had cracked and peeled off. The house 
 stood elevated from the ground, and the front 
 door was entered by ascending five massive- 
 stone steps, which were surmounted by a rustj 
 iron balustrade. Barns, wine-presses, dove-cots 
 and sheep-pens were clustered about, so that 
 the farm-house, with its out-buildings, almost 
 presented the aspect of a little village. A veg- 
 etable garden ; a flower garden, with serpentine 
 walks and arbors embowered in odoriferous and 
 flowering shrubs ; an orchard, casting the shade 
 of a great variety of fruit-trees over the closely- 
 rriwn greensward, and a vineyard, with long 
 lines of low-trimmed grape vines, gave a finish 
 to this most rural and attractive picture. In 
 the distance was seen the rugged range of the 
 mountains of Beaujolais, while still further in 
 the distance rose towering above them the 
 now-capped summits of the Alps. Here, in 
 this social solitude, in this harmony of silence,
 
 187
 
 1782.] MARRIAGE. 99 
 
 r**n of happiness Mode of life 
 
 in this wide expanse of nature, Madame Roland 
 passed five of the happiest years of her ln*? 
 five such years as few mortals enjoy on earth. 
 She, whose spirit had been so often exhilarated 
 by the view of the tree tops and the few square 
 yards of blue sky which were visible from the 
 window of her city home, was enchanted with 
 the exuberance of the prospect of mountain and 
 meadow, water and sky, so lavishly spread out 
 before her. The expanse, apparently so limit- 
 less, open to her view, invited her fancy to a 
 range equally boundless. Nature and imagina- 
 tion were her friends, and in their realms she 
 found her home. Enjoying an ample income, 
 engaged constantly in the most ennobling liter- 
 ary pursuits, rejoicing in the society of her hus- 
 band and her little Eudora, and superintending 
 her domestic concerns with an ease and skill 
 which made that superintendence a pleasure s 
 time flew upon its swiftest wings. 
 
 Her mode of life during these five calm and 
 sunny years which intervened between the 
 cloudy morning and the tempestuous evening 
 of her days, must have been exceedingly attract- 
 ive. She rose with the sun, devoted sundry at- 
 tentions to her husband and child, and person- 
 ally superintended the arrangements for break-
 
 100 MADAME ROLAND. [1783 
 
 Eudora. 
 
 fast, taking an affectionate pleasure in prepar- 
 ing very nicely her husband's frugal food with 
 her own hands. That social meal, ever, in > 
 loving family, the most joyous interview of the 
 day, being passed, M. Roland entered the ibra- 
 ry for his intellectual toil, taking with him, for 
 his silent companion, the idolized little Eudora. 
 She amused herself with her pencil, or reading, 
 or other studies, which her father and mother 
 superintended. Madame Roland, in the mean 
 time, devoted herself, with most systematic en- 
 ergy, to her domestic concerns. She was a per- 
 fect housekeeper, and each morning all the in- 
 terests of her family, from the cellar to the gar- 
 ret, passed under her eye. She superintended 
 the preservation of the fruit, the storage of the 
 wine, the sorting of the linen, and those other 
 details of domestic life which engross the atten- 
 tion of a good housewife. The systematio divi- 
 sion of time, which seemed to be an instinctive 
 principle of her nature, enabled her to accom- 
 plish all this in two hours. She had faithful 
 and devoted servants to do the work. The su- 
 perintendence was all that was required. This 
 genius to superintend and be the head, while 
 others contribute the hands, is not the most 
 oommon of human endowments. Madame Ro
 
 1784.] , MARRIAOK. 101 
 
 Lfenary employments. Ptemaant ramble* 
 
 I"" 4 , having thus attended to her domestic con- 
 cerns, laid aside those cares for the remainder 
 of the day, and entered the study to join her 
 husband in his labors there. These intellectual 
 employments ever possessed for her peculiar at- 
 tractions. The scientific celebrity of M. Ro- 
 land, and his political position, attracted many 
 visitors to La Platiere ; consequently, they had, 
 almost invariably, company to dine. At the 
 close of the literary labors of the morning, Ma- 
 dame Roland dressed for dinner, and, with aU 
 that fascination of mind and manners so pecu- 
 liarly her own, met her guests at the dinner- 
 table. The labor of the day was then over. 
 The repast was prolonged with social converse. 
 After dinner, they walked in the garden, saun- 
 *ered through the vineyard, and looked at the 
 innumerable objects of interest which are ever 
 to be found in the yard of a spacious farm. 
 Madame Roland frequently retired to the libra- 
 ry, to write letters to her friends, or to superin- 
 tend the lessons of Eudora. Occasionally, of a 
 fcne day, leaning upon her husband's arm, she 
 would walk for several miles, calling at the cot- 
 tages of the peasantry, whom she greatly en- 
 deared to her by her unvarying kindness. In 
 the evening, after tea, they again resorted tn
 
 102 MADAME ROLAND. {1784 
 
 Distinguished guest*. Rural pleacnm 
 
 the library. Guests of distinguished name and 
 influence were frequently with them, and the 
 hours glided swiftly, cheered by the brilliance 
 of philosophy and genius. The journals of the 
 day were read, Madame Roland being usually 
 called upon as reader. When not thus read- 
 ing, she usually sat at her work-table, employ, 
 ing her fingers with her needle, while she took 
 a quiet and unobtrusive part in the conversa- 
 tion. " This kind of life," says Madame Ro- 
 land, " would be very austere, were not my hus- 
 band a man of great merit, whom I love with 
 my whole heart. Tender friendship and un- 
 bounded confidence mark every moment of ex- 
 istence, and stamp a value upon all things, 
 which nothing without them would have. It 
 is the life most favorable to virtue and happi- 
 ness. I appreciate its worth. I congratulate 
 myself on enjoying it ; and I exert my best en- 
 deavors to make it last." Again she draws the 
 captivating picture of rural pleasures. " I am 
 preserving pears, which will be delicious. We 
 are drying raisins and prunes. We make our 
 breakfast upon ' wine ; overlook the servants 
 busy in the vineyard; repose in the shady 
 groves, and on the green meadows ; gather wal- 
 nuts from the trees ; and, having collected om
 
 1785.] MARRIAOE. 103 
 
 Knowledge of medicine. Kindneu tc & pewantry 
 
 stock of fruit for the winter, spread it in the 
 garret to dry. After breakfast this morning, 
 we are all going in a body to gather almonds. 
 Throw off, then, dear friend, your fetters for a 
 while, and come and join us in our retreat 
 You will find here true friendship and real sim- 
 plicity of heart." 
 
 Madame Roland, among her other innumer- 
 able accomplishments, had acquired no little 
 skill in the science of medicine. Situated in a 
 region where the poor peasants had no access 
 to physicians, she was not only liberal in dis- 
 tributing among them many little comforts, 
 but, with the most self-denying assiduity, she 
 visited them in sickness, and prescribed for 
 their maladies. She was often sent for, to go 
 a distance of ten or twelve miles to visit the 
 sick. From such appeals she never turned 
 away. On Sundays, her court-yard was filled 
 with peasants, who had assembled from all the 
 region round, some as invalids, to seek relief, 
 and others who came with such little tokens of 
 f .heir gratitude as their poverty enabled them 
 to bring. Here appears a little rosy-cheeked 
 boy with a basket of chestnuts ; or a care- 
 worn mother, pale and thin, but with a grate- 
 ful eye presenting to her benefaotrioe a few 
 mall, fragrant cheeses, made of goat's milk :
 
 104 MADAME KOLAND. 
 
 Ordtude of the pnuantry. Fop *r rlfbfe 
 
 and there is an old man, hobbling upon crutch- 
 es, with a basket of apples from his orchard. 
 She was delighted with these indications of 
 gralitude and sensibility on the part of the un- 
 enlightened and lowly peasantry. Her repub- 
 lican notions, which she had cherished so fond- 
 ly in her early years, but from which she had 
 somewhat swerved when seeking a patent of 
 nobility for her husband, began now to revive 
 in her bosom with new ardor. She was re- 
 garded as peculiarly the friend of the poor and 
 the humble ; and at all the hearth-fires in the 
 cottages of that retired valley, her name was 
 Dronounced in tones almost of adoration. More 
 and more Madame Roland and her husband be- 
 gan to identify their interests with those of the 
 poor around them, and to plead with tongue 
 and pen for popular rights. Her intercourse 
 with the poor led her to feel more deeply the 
 oppression of laws, framed to indulge the few 
 ia luxury, while the many were consigned to 
 penury and hopeless ignorance. She acquired 
 boundless faith in the virtue of the people, and 
 'nought that their disinthrallment would usher 
 in a millennium of unalloyed happiness. She 
 now saw the ocean of human passions reposing 
 in its perfect calm. She afterward saw thai 
 same ooaan when lashed bv the tempest
 
 1791] THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 
 
 Portentou mattering!. Welectued u bloating* 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 
 
 MADAME ROLAND was thus living at 
 La Platiere, in the enjoyment of all that 
 this world can give of peace and happiness, 
 when the first portentous mutterings of that 
 terrible moral tempest, the French Revolution, 
 fell upon her ears. She eagerly caught the 
 sounds, and, believing them the precursor of the 
 most signal political and social blessings, rejoic- 
 ed in the assurance that the hour was approach- 
 ing when long-oppressed humanity would re- 
 assert its rights and achieve its triumph. Lit- 
 tle did she dream of the woes which in surging 
 billows were to roll over her country, and which 
 were to ingulf her, and all whom she loved, in 
 their resistless tide. She dreamed a very par- 
 donable dream for a philanthropic lady that 
 an ignorant and enslaved people could be led 
 from Egyptian bondage to the promised land 
 without the weary sufferings of the wilderness 
 and the desert. Her faith in the regenerative 
 capabilities of human nature was so strong,
 
 K) MADAME ROLAND. [1791 
 
 Rnthtuimua of Madame RoUndL Loul XVI. Maria Antoinette 
 
 that she could foresee no obstacles and no dan- 
 gers in the way of immediate and universal dis- 
 franchisement from every custom, and from all 
 laws and usages which her judgment disap- 
 proved. Her whole soul was aroused, and she 
 devoted all her affections and every energy of 
 her mind to the welfare of the human race. It 
 is hardly to be supposed, human nature being 
 such as it is, but that the mortifications she 
 met in early life from the arrogance of those 
 above her, and the difficulties she encountered 
 in obtaining letters-patent of nobility, exerted 
 some influence in animating her zeal. Her en- 
 thusiastic devotion stimulated the ardor of her 
 less excitable spouse ; and all her friends, by her 
 fascinating powers of eloquence both of voice 
 and pen, were gradually inspired by the same 
 intense emotions which had absorbed her whole 
 being. 
 
 Louis XVI. and Maria Antoinette had but 
 recently inherited the throne of the Bourbons. 
 Louis was benevolent, but destitute of the de- 
 cision of character requisite to hold the reins of 
 government in so stormy a pe'riod. Maria An- 
 toinette had neither culture of mind nor knowl- 
 edge of the world. She was an amiable but 
 spoiled child, with great native nobleness cf
 
 1791.] THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 107 
 
 Character of Maria Antoinette. Character of Lout*. 
 
 character, but with those defects which are the 
 natural and inevitable consequence of the friv- 
 olous education she had received. She thought 
 aever of duty and responsibility ; always and 
 Mily of pleasure. It was her misfortune rather 
 than her fault, that the idea never entered her 
 mind that kings and queens had aught else to 
 do than to indulge in luxury. It would be 
 hardly possible to conceive of two characters 
 less qualified to occupy the throne in stormy 
 times than were Louis and Maria. The peo- 
 ple were slowly, but with resistless power, ris- 
 ing against the abuses, enormous and hoary 
 with age, of the aristocracy and the monarchy. 
 Louis, a man of unblemished kindness, integ- 
 rity, and purity, was made the scape-goat for 
 the sins of haughty, oppressive, profligate prin- 
 ces, who for centuries had trodden, with iron 
 hoofs, upon the necks of their subjects. The 
 accumulated hate of ages was poured upon hia 
 devoted head. The irresolute monarch had no 
 conception of his position. 
 
 The king, in pursuance of his system of con- 
 ciliation, as the clamors of discontent swelled 
 louder and longer from all parts of France, con- 
 vened the National Assembly. This body con- 
 iiated of the nobility, the higher clergy, and rep
 
 108 MADAME ROLAND. [1791 
 
 M. Roland elected to the Assembly. Ardor of hit wife 
 
 resentatives, chosen by the people from all parts 
 of France. M. Roland, who was quite an idol 
 with the populace of Lyons and its vicinity, 
 ind who now was beginning to lose caste with 
 the aristocracy, was chosen, by a very strong 
 vote, as the representative to the Assembly from 
 the city of Lyons. In that busy city the re* 
 olutionary movement had commenced with 
 great power, and the name of Roland was the 
 rallying point of the people now struggling to 
 escape from ages of oppression. M. Roland 
 spent some time in his city residence, drawn 
 thither by the intense interest of the times, and 
 in the saloon of Madame Roland meetings were 
 every evening held by the most influential gen- 
 tlemen of the revolutionary party. Her ardoi 
 stimulated their zeal, and her well-stored mind 
 and fascinating conversational eloquence guid- 
 ed their councils. The impetuous young men 
 of the city gathered around this impassioned 
 woman, from whose lips words of liberty fell so 
 enchantingly upon their ears, and with cHval- 
 no devotion surrendered themselves to the guid- 
 ance of her mind. 
 
 In this rising conflict between plebeian and 
 patrician, between democrat and aristocrat, the 
 position in which M. Roland and wife were
 
 1791.] THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 109 
 
 Popularity of the Rolands. They go to Prl* 
 
 placed, as most conspicuous and influentia, 
 members of the revolutionary party, arrayed 
 against them, with daily increasing animosity ; 
 all the aristocratic community of Lyons. Each 
 day their names were pronounced by the advo- 
 cates of reform with more enthusiasm, and by 
 their opponents with deepening hostility. The 
 applause and the censure alike invigorated Ma- 
 dame Roland, and her whole soul became ab- 
 sorbed in the one idea of popular liberty. This 
 object became her passion, and she devoted her- 
 self to it with the concentration of every energy 
 of mind and heart. 
 
 On the 20th of February, 1791, Madame *Ro- 
 *and accompanied her husband to Paris, as he 
 took his seat, with a name already prominent, 
 in the National Assembly. Five years before, 
 she had left the metropolis in obscurity and de- 
 pression. She now returned with wealth, with 
 elevated rank, with brilliant reputation, and ex- 
 ulting in conscious power. Her persuasive in- 
 fluence was dictating those measures which 
 were driving the ancient nobility of France 
 from their chateaux, and her vigorous mind was 
 guiding those blows before which the throne of 
 the Bourbons trembled. The unblemished and 
 incorruptible integrity of M. Roland, his aim-
 
 110 MADAME ROLAND. [1791 
 
 Reception of the Roland* at Part*. Sitting* of the AMmnbly 
 
 plicity of manners and acknowledged ability, 
 invested him immediately with much authority 
 among his associates. The brilliance of his 
 wife, and her most fascinating colloquial pow- 
 ers, also reflated much luster upon his name. 
 Madame Roland, with her glowing zeal, had 
 just, written a pamphlet upon the new order of 
 things, in language so powerful and impressive 
 that more than sixty thousand copies had been 
 sold an enormous number, considering the 
 comparative fewness of readers at that time. 
 She, of course, was received with the most flat- 
 tering attention, and great deference was paid 
 to her opinions. She attended daily the sit- 
 tings of the Assembly, and listened with the 
 ri ,.,>>f.t interest to the debates. The king and 
 queen had already been torn from their palaces 
 at, Versailles, and were virtually prisoners in 
 the Tuileries. Many of the nobles had fled 
 from the perils which seemed to be gathering 
 around them, and had joined the army of emi- 
 grants at Coblentz. A few, however, of the no- 
 bility, and many of the higher clergy, remain- 
 ed heroically at their posts, and, as members of 
 the Assembly, made valiant but unavailing ef- 
 forto to defend the ancient prerogatives of the 
 crown nd of ths Chursh. Madame Roland
 
 1791.] THE NATIOKAL ASSEMBLY. Ill 
 
 Taitee and principle!. Conflict for power 
 
 witnessed with mortification, which she could 
 neither repress nor conceal, the decided supe- 
 riority of the court party in dignity, and polish 
 of manners, and in general intellectual culturej 
 aver those of plebeian origin, who were strug- 
 gling, with the energy of an infant Hercules, 
 for the overthrow of despotic power. All her 
 tastes were with the ancient nobility and their 
 defenders. All her principles were with the 
 people. And as she contrasted the unrefined 
 exterior and clumsy speech of the democratic 
 leaders with the courtly bearing and elegant 
 diction of those who rallied around the throne, 
 she was aroused to a more vehement desire for 
 the social and intellectual elevation of those 
 with whom she had cast in her lot. The con- 
 flict with the nobles was of short continuance. 
 The energy of rising democracy soon vanquish- 
 ed them. Violence took the place of law. And 
 now the conflict for power arose between those 
 ef the Republicans who were more and those 
 who were less radical in their plans of reform. 
 The most moderate party, consisting of those 
 who would sustain the throne, but limit its 
 powers by a free constitution, retaining many 
 of the institutions and customs which antiquity 
 ha i rendered venerable, was called the Girond
 
 112 MADAME ROLAND. t i791 
 
 The OirondUU. The Jacobins. Meeting! at Mad e Roland'* 
 
 ist party. It was so called because their most 
 prominent leaders were from the department of 
 the Gironde. They would deprive the king of 
 many of his prerogatives, but not of his crown. 
 They would take from him his despotic power, 
 but not his life. They would raise the mass of 
 the people to the enjoyment of liberty, but to 
 liberty controlled by vigorous law. Opposed to 
 them were the Jacobins far more radical in 
 their views of reform. They would overthrow 
 both throne and altar, break down all privileged 
 orders, confiscate the property of the nobles, 
 and place prince and beggar on the footing ol 
 equality. These were the two great parties 
 into which revolutionary France was divided 
 and the conflict between them was the mosi 
 fierce and implacable earth has ever witnessec 
 M. Roland and wife, occupying a residence in 
 Paris, which was a convenient place of rendez- 
 vous, by their attractions gathered around them 
 every evening many of the most influential 
 members of the Assembly. They attached 
 themselves, with all their zeal and energy, 
 the Girondists. (Four evenings of every week, 
 the leaders of this party met in the saloon of 
 Madame Roland, to deliberate respecting their 
 measures. Among them there was young
 
 1791 J THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLT. 113 
 
 Appearance of Robespierre. HU character 
 
 lawyer from the country, with a stupid expres- 
 sion of countenance, sallow complexion, and un- 
 gainly gestures, who had made himself excess- 
 ively unpopular by the prosy speeches with 
 which he was ever wearying the Assembly. 
 He had often been floored by argument and 
 coughed down by contempt, but he seemed alike 
 insensible to sarcasm and to insult. Alone in 
 the Assembly, without a friend, he attacked all 
 parties alike, and was by all disregarded. B\it 
 he possessed an indomitable energy, and un- 
 wavering fixedness of purpose, a profound con- 
 tempt for luxury and wealth, and a stoical in- 
 difference to reputation and to personal indul- 
 gence, which secured to him more and more of 
 an ascendency, until, at the name of Robes- 
 pierre, all France trembled. This young man 
 silent and moody, appeared with others in the 
 saloon of Madame Roland. She was struck 
 with his singularity, and impressed with an in- 
 stinctive consciousness of his peculiar genius 
 He was captivated by those charms of oonver- 
 sation in which Madame Roland was unrivaled 
 Silently for he had no conversational powers 
 Ke lingered around her chair, treasured np 
 her spontaneous tropes, and metaphors, and ab- 
 Horbed her sentiments. He had a clear peroep- 
 188
 
 114 MADAME ROLAND. [1791. 
 
 Remain* of the court party. Influence of Mxfomc Roland 
 
 tion of the state of the times, was perhaps 
 sincere patriot, and had no ties of friendship, no 
 scruples of conscience, no instincts of mercy, to 
 turn him aside from any measures of blood 01 
 woe which might accomplish his plans. 
 
 Though the Girondists and the Jacobins were 
 the two great parties now contending in the tu- 
 multuous arena of French revolution, there still 
 remained the enfeebled and broken remains of 
 the court party, with their insulted and humil- 
 iated king at their head, and also numerous 
 cliques and minor divisions of those struggling 
 for power. At the political evening reunions 
 in the saloon of Madame Roland, she was inva- 
 riably present, not as a prominent actor in the 
 scenes, taking a conspicuous part in the sooia. 
 debates, but as a quiet and modest lady, of well- 
 known intellectual supremacy, whose active 
 mind took the liveliest interest in the agitations 
 of the hour. The influence she exerted was 
 the polished, refined, attractive influence of an 
 accomplished woman, who moved in her own 
 appropriate sphere. She made no Amazonian 
 speeches. She' mingled not with men in the 
 clamor of debate. With an invisible hand she 
 gently and winningly touched the springs of 
 action in other hearts Wirh feminine ootxver-
 
 V. 
 
 ROBESPIERUE
 
 i791.] THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 117 
 
 Madame Roland's mode of action. Her delicacy 
 
 aational eloquence, she threw out sagacious sug 
 gestions, which others eagerly adopted, and ad- 
 vocated, and carried into vigorous execution. 
 She did no violence to that delicacy of percep- 
 tion which is woman's tower and strength. She 
 moved not from that sphere where woman 
 reigns so resistlessly, and dreamed not of lay- 
 ing aside the graceful and polished weapons of 
 her own sex, to grasp the heavier and coarser 
 armor of man, which no woman can wield. By 
 such an endeavor, one does but excite the re 
 pugnance of all except the unfortunate few, who 
 can see no peculiar sacredness in woman's per- 
 son, mind, or heart. 
 
 As the gentlemen assembled in the retired 
 parlor, or rather library and study, appropriated 
 to these confidential interviews, Madame Ro- 
 land took her seat at a little work-table, aside 
 from the circle where her husband and his 
 friends were discussing their political measures. 
 Busy with her needle or with her pen, she list- 
 ened to every word that was uttered, and often 
 bit her lips to check the almost irrepressible de- 
 sire to speak out in condemnation of some fee- 
 ble proposal or to urge some bolder action. At 
 the close of the evening, when frank and social 
 aonverse ensued, her voice was heard in low,
 
 118 MADAME ROLAND. [1791 
 
 aobeepterre at Madame Roland'i. Horrors of the Revolution. 
 
 but sweet and winning tones, as one after an- 
 other of the members were attracted to her side. 
 Robespierre, at such times silent and thought- 
 ful, was ever bending over her chair. He stud- 
 ied Madame Roland with even more of stoical 
 apathy than another man would study a book 
 which he admires. The next day his compan- 
 ions would smile at the effrontery with which 
 Robespierre would give utterance, in the As- 
 sembly, not only to the sentiments, but even to 
 the very words and phrases which he had so 
 carefully garnered from the exuberant diction 
 of his eloquent instructress. Occasionally, ev- 
 ery eye would be riveted upon him, and every 
 ear attentive, as he gave utterance to some lofty 
 sentiment, in impassioned language, which had 
 been heard before, in sweeter tones, from more 
 persuasive lips. 
 
 Bui the Revolution, like a spirit of destruc- 
 tion, was now careering onward with resistless 
 power. Liberty was becoming lawlessness. 
 Mobs rioted through the streets, burned cha- 
 teaux, demolished convents, hunted, even to 
 death, priests and nobles, sacked the palaces of 
 the king, and defiled the altars of religion. Th 
 Girondists, illustrious, eloquent, patriotic men, 
 sincerely desirous of breaking the arm of
 
 1791.] THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 
 
 tan of the GirondUta. Violence of the Jacobin* 
 
 potism and of introducing a well-regulated lib- 
 erty, now began to tremble. They saw that a 
 spirit was evoked which might trample every 
 thing sacred in the dust. Their opponents, the 
 Jacobins, rallying the populace around them 
 with the cry, " Kill, burn, destroy," were for 
 rushing onward in this career of demolition, till 
 every vestige of gradations of rank and every 
 restraint of religion should be swept from the 
 land. The Girondists paused in deep embar- 
 rassment. They could not retrace their stepa 
 and try to re-establish the throne. The endeav- 
 or would not only be utterly unavailing, but 
 would, with certainty, involve them in speedy 
 and retrieveless ruin. They could not unite 
 with the Jacobins in their reckless onset upon 
 every thing which time had rendered venerable, 
 and substitute for decency, and law, and order, 
 the capricious volitions of an insolent, ignorant, 
 and degraded mob. The only hope that re- 
 mained for them was to struggle to continue 
 firm in the position which they had already as- 
 sumed. It was the only hope for France. The 
 restoration of the monarchy was impossible 
 The triumph of the Jacobins was ruin. Which 
 of these two parties in the Assembly shall ar- 
 ray around its banners the millions of tho pop-
 
 MADAME ROI.AND. [1791 
 
 Resolution of the Girondist*. Warning of Madame Roland 
 
 ulaee of France, now aroused to the full con- 
 sciousness of their power? Which can bid 
 highest for the popular* vote? Which can pan- 
 der most successfully to the popular palate T 
 The Girondists had talent, and integrity, and 
 incorruptible patriotism. They foresaw their 
 peril, but they resolved to meet it, and, if they 
 must perish, to perish with their armor on. No 
 one discerned this danger at an earlier period 
 than Madame Roland. She warned her friends 
 of its approach, even before they were conscious 
 of the gulf to which they were tending. She 
 urged the adoption of precautionary measures, 
 by which a retreat might be effected when their 
 post should be no longer tenable. " I once 
 thought," said Madame Roland, " that there 
 were no evils worse than regal despotism. I 
 now see that there are other calamities vastly 
 more to be dreaded." 
 
 Robespierre, who had associated with the Gi 
 rondists with rather a sullen and Ishmaelitish 
 spirit, holding himself in readiness to go here or 
 there, as events might indicate to be politic, le- 
 gan now to incline toward the more popular 
 party, of which he subsequently became the in- 
 spiring demon. Though he was daily attract* 
 ing more attention, he had not yet risen to pop-
 
 1791. J THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 121 
 
 Banger of Robespierre. He 1* concealed by Madame Roland 
 
 ularity. On one occasion, being accused of ad- 
 vocating some unpopular measure, the clamors 
 of the multitude were raised against him, and 
 70 ws of vengeance were utteied, loud and deep, 
 through the streets of Paris. His enemies in 
 the Assembly took advantage of this to bring 
 an act of accusation against him, which would 
 relieve them of his presence by the decisive en- 
 ergy of the ax of the guillotine. Robespierre's 
 danger was most imminent, and he was obliged 
 to conceal himself. Madame Roland, inspired 
 by those courageous impulses which ever enno- 
 bled her, went at midnight, accompanied by her 
 husband, to his retreat, to invite him to a moro 
 secure asylum in their own house. Madame 
 Roland then hastened to a very influential 
 friend, M. Busot, allowing no weariness to in- 
 terrupt her philanthropy, and entreated liim to 
 hasten immediately and endeavor to exculpate 
 Robespierre, before an act of accusation should 
 be issued against him. M. Busot hesitated, but, 
 unable to resist the earnest appeal of Madame 
 Roland, replied, " I will do all in my power to 
 save this unfortunate young man, although I 
 am far from partaking the opinion of many re- 
 specting him. He thinks too much of himself 
 to love liberty; but he serves it, and that is
 
 122 MADAME ROLAND. [1791 
 
 >f Robespwrra 
 
 enough for me. I will defend him." Thus 
 was the life of Robespierre saved. He lived to 
 reward his benefactors by consigning them all 
 to prison and to death. Says Lamartine sub- 
 imely, " Beneath the dungeons of the Conoier- 
 gerie, Madame Roland remembered that night 
 with satisfaction. If Robespierre recalled it in 
 his power, this memory must have fallen cold- 
 er upon his heart than the ax of the headsman." 
 
 The powerful influence which Madame Ro- 
 land was thus exerting could not be concealed. 
 Her husband became more illustrious through 
 that brilliance she was ever anxious to reflect 
 upon him. She appeared to have no ambition 
 for personal renown. She sought only to ele- 
 vate the position and expand the celebrity of 
 her companion. It was whispered from ear to 
 ear, and now and then openly asserted in the 
 Assembly, that the bold and decisive measures 
 of the Girondists received their impulse from 
 the youthful and lovely wife of M. Roland. 
 
 In September, 1791, the Assembly was iis- 
 ftdved, and M. and Madame Roland returned to 
 the rural quiet of La Platiere. But in pruning 
 the vines, and feeding the poultry, and cultivat- 
 ing the flowers which so peacefully bloomed in 
 their garden, they could not forget the exciting
 
 1.791.] THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 123 
 
 The Roland* again at La Flattens. They return to PmrU 
 
 scenes through which they had passed, and the 
 still more exciting scenes which they foresaw 
 were to come. She kept up a constant corre- 
 spondence with Robespierre and Busot,. and fur- 
 nished many ">ery able articles for a widely-cir- 
 culated journal, established by the Girondists 
 for the advocacy of their political views. The 
 question now arose between herself and her 
 husband whether they should relinquish the 
 agitations and the perils of a political life in 
 these stormy times, and cloister themselves in 
 rural seclusion, in the calm luxury of literary 
 and scientific enterprise, or launch forth again 
 upon the storm-swept ocean of revolution ana 
 anarchy. Few who understand the human 
 heart will doubt of the decision to which they 
 came. The chickens were left in the yard, the 
 rabbits in the warren, and the flowers were 
 abandoned to bloom in solitude ; and before the 
 snows of December had whitened the hills, they 
 were again installed hi tumultuous Paris. A 
 new Assembly had just been convened, from 
 which all the members of the one but recently 
 dissolved were by law excluded. Their friends 
 weie rapidly assembling in Paris from their 
 summer retreats, and influential men, from aU 
 part** of the empire, wnr.- leathering in the me-
 
 124 MADAME ROLAND. [1791 
 
 Plot* and counterplots Political maneurering 
 
 tropolis, to watch the progress of affairs. Clubs 
 were formed to discuss the great questions of 
 the day, to mold public opinion, and to overawe 
 the Assembly. It was a period of darkness and 
 of gloom ; but there is something so intoxicat- 
 ing in the draughts of homage and power, that 
 those who have once quaffed them find all mild- 
 er stimulants stale and insipid. No sooner were 
 M. and Madame Roland established in their 
 city residence, than they were involved in al) 
 the plots and the counterplots of the Revolution 
 M. Roland was grave, taciturn, oracular. He 
 had no brilliance of talent to excite envy. He 
 displayed no ostentation in dress, or equipage, 
 or manners, to provoke the desire in others to 
 humble him. His reputation for stoical virtue 
 gave a wide sweep to his influence. His very 
 silence invested him with a mysterious wisdom. 
 Consequently, no one feared him as a rival, and 
 he was freely thrust forward as the unobjection- 
 able head of a party by all who hoped through 
 him to promote their own interests. He was 
 what we call in America an available candi- 
 date. Madame Roland, on the contrary, was 
 animated and brilliant. Her genius was uni- 
 versally admired. Her bold suggestions, her 
 shrewd counsel, her lively repartee, her capa-
 
 1791. J THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 125 
 
 Massacres and conflagrations. The king Insulted and prisoner 
 
 bility of cutting sarcasm, rarely exercised, hei 
 deep and impassioned benevolence, her unvary- 
 ing cheerfulness, the sincerity and enthusiasm 
 af her philanthropy, and the unrivaled brilliance 
 af her conversational powers, made her the cen- 
 ter of a system around which the brightest in- 
 tellects were revolving. Vergniaud, Petion, 
 Brissot, and others, whose names were then 
 comparatively unknown, but whose fame has 
 since resounded through the civilized world, lov- 
 ed to do her homage. 
 
 The spirit of the Revolution was still advanc- 
 ing with gigantic strides, and the already shat- 
 tered throne was reeling beneath the redoubled 
 blows of the insurgent people. Massacres were 
 rife all over the kingdom. The sky was night- 
 ly illumined by conflagrations. The nobles 
 were abandoning their estates, and escaping 
 from perils and death to take refuge in the bo- 
 som of the little army of emigrants at Coblentz. 
 The king, insulted and a prisoner, reigned but 
 in name. Under these circumstances, Louis 
 was compelled to dismiss his ministry and to 
 call in another more acceptable to the people. 
 The king hoped, by the appointment of a Re- 
 publican ministry, to pacify the democratic 
 pirit. There was no other resource left him
 
 126 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 Tto k! f turmnderm. IL Roland Minbtor of the Interior 
 
 but abdication. It was a bitter cup for him te 
 drink. His proud and spirited queen declared 
 that she would rather die than throw herself 
 into the arms of Republicans for protection. 
 He yielded to the pressure, dismissed his min- 
 isters, and surrendered himself to the Girond- 
 ists for the appointment of a new ministry. 
 The Girondists called upon M. Roland to take 
 the important post of Minister of the Interior. 
 It was a perilous position to fill, but what dan- 
 ger will not ambition face? In the present 
 posture of affairs, the Minister of the Interior 
 was the monarch of France. M. Roland, whose 
 quiet and hidden ambition had been feeding 
 upon its success, smiled nervously at the power 
 which, thus unsolicited, was passing into his 
 hands. Madame Roland, whose all-absorbing 
 passion it now was to elevate her husband to 
 the highest summits of greatness, was gratified 
 in view of the honor and agitated in view of the 
 peril ; but, to her exalted spirit, the greater the 
 danger, the more heroic the act " The bui Jen 
 is heavy," she said ; " but Roland has a great 
 consciousness of his own powers, and would de- 
 rive fresh strength from the feeling of being use- 
 ful to liberty and his country." 
 
 In March, 1792, he entered upon his arduous
 
 1792.) THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 127 
 
 Madame Roland In a palace. M. Roland'* ftnt appearance at court 
 
 and exalted office. The palace formerly occu- 
 pied by the Controller General of Finance, most 
 gorgeously furnished by Madame Necker in the 
 days of her glory, was appropriated to their use. 
 Madame Roland entered this splendid establish- 
 ment, and, elevated in social eminence above 
 the most exalted nobles of France, fulfilled all 
 the complicated duties of her station with a 
 grace and dignity which have never been sur- 
 passed. Thus had Jane risen from that hum- 
 ble position in which the daughter of the en- 
 graver, in solitude, communed with her books, 
 to be the mistress of a palace of aristocratic 
 grandeur, and the associate of statesmen and 
 princes. 
 
 When M. Roland made his first appearance 
 at court as the minister of his royal master 
 instead of arraying himself in the court-dress 
 which the customs of the times required, he af- 
 fected, in his costume, the simplicity of his prin- 
 ciples. He wished to appear in his exalted sta- 
 tion still the man of the people. He had not 
 forgotten the impression produced in France by 
 Franklin, as in the most republican simplicity 
 of dress he moved among the glittering throng 
 at Versailles. He accordingly presented him- 
 elf at the Tuileries in a plain black ooat, with
 
 128 MADAME ROLAND [1792 
 
 Horror of the cou.tiers. M. Roland'i opinion of the king 
 
 a round hat, and dusty shoes fastened with rib- 
 bons instead of buckles. The courtiers were 
 indignant. The king was highly displeased at 
 what he considered an act of disrespect. The 
 master of ceremonies was in consternation, and 
 exclaimed with a look of horror to General Da- 
 muriez, " My dear sir, he has not even buckles 
 in his shoes!" "Mercy upon us!" exclaimed 
 the old general, with the most laughable expres- 
 sion of affected gravity, " we shall then all go 
 to ruin together !" 
 
 The king, however, soon forgot the neglect 
 of etiquette in the momentous questions which 
 were pressing upon his attention. He felt the 
 ''"portance of securing the confidence and good 
 rtill of his ministers, and he approached them 
 with the utmost affability and conciliation. M. 
 Roland returned from his first interview with 
 the monarch quite enchanted with his excellent 
 disposition and his patriotic spirit. He assured 
 his wife that the community had formed a to- 
 tally erroneous estimate of the king ; that he 
 was sincerely a friend to the reforms which 
 were taking place, and was a hearty supporter 
 of the Constitution which had been apparently 
 forced upon him. The prompt reply of Ma 
 dame Roland displaced even more than he*
 
 1792.] THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 13S 
 
 Madame Roland'* advice. Her ophilon of king* and courtu n 
 
 characteristic sagacity. " If Louis is sincerely 
 a friend of the Constitution, he must be virtu- 
 ous beyond the common race of mortals. Mis- 
 trust your own virtue, M. Roland. You are 
 nly an honest countryman wandering amid a 
 crowd of courtiers virtue in danger amid a 
 myriad of vices. They speak our language ; 
 we do not know theirs. No! Louis can not 
 love the chains that fetter him. He may feign 
 to caress them. He thinks only of how he can 
 spurn them. Fallen greatness loves not its de- 
 cadence. No man likes his humiliation. Trust 
 in human nature ; that never deceives. Dis- 
 trust courts. Your virtue is too elevated to see 
 the snares which courtiers spread beneath youi 
 
 189
 
 130 MADAME ROLAND, [1792. 
 
 Parlor of Madame Roland. Vacillation of Looim. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE MINISTRY OP M. ROLAND. 
 
 TT^ROM all the spacious apartments of tne 
 *- magnificent mansion allotted as the resi- 
 dence of the Minister of the Interior, Madame 
 Roland selected a small and retired parlor, which 
 she had furnished with every attraction as a li- 
 brary and a study. This was her much-loved 
 retreat, and here M. Roland, in the presence of 
 his wife, was accustomed to see his friends in 
 all their confidential intercourse. Thus she 
 was not only made acquainted with all the im- 
 portant occurrences of the times, but she form- 
 ed an intimate personal acquaintance with the 
 leading actors in these eventful movements. 
 Louis, adopting a vacillating policy, in his en- 
 deavors to conciliate each party was losing the 
 confidence and the support of all. The Girond- 
 ists, foreseeing the danger which threatened the 
 kitg and all the institutions of government, 
 were anxious that he should be persuaded to 
 abandon these mistaken measures, and firmly 
 nd openly advocate the reforms which had al
 
 1792.] MINISTRY OF M. ROLAND. 131 
 
 Measure* of the Girondists. Their perilous position. 
 
 ready taken place. They felt that if he would 
 energetically take his stand in the position 
 which the Girondists had assumed, there WAS 
 still safety for himself and the nation. The 
 Girondists, at this time, wished to sustain the 
 throne, but they wished to limit its power and 
 surround it by the institutions of republican lib- 
 erty. The king, animated by his far more 
 strong-minded, energetic, and ambitious queen, 
 was slowly and reluctantly surrendering point 
 by point as the pressure of the multitude com- 
 pelled, while he was continually hoping that 
 some change in affairs would enable him to re- 
 gain his lost power. 
 
 The position of the Girondists began to be 
 more and more perilous. The army of emi- 
 grant nobles at Coblentz, within the dominions 
 of the King of Prussia, was rapidly increasing 
 in numbers. Frederic was threatening, in al- 
 liance with all the most powerful crowns of Eu- 
 rope, to march with a resistless army to Paris, 
 reinstate the king in his lost authority, and take 
 signal vengeance upon the leaders 3f the Revo- 
 lution. There were hundreds of thousands hi 
 France, the most illustrious in rank and opu- 
 lence, who would join such an army. The Ro- 
 man Catholic priesthood, to a man, would lend
 
 132 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 Ramon of taYMdna. Thf rabbi* 
 
 to it the influence of all its spiritual authority 
 Paris was every hour agitated by rumors of the 
 approach of the armies of invasion. The peo- 
 ple all believed that Louis wished to escape 
 from Paris and head that army. The king was 
 spiritless, undecided, and ever vacillating in his 
 plans. Maria Antoinette would have gone 
 through fire and blood to have rallied those 
 hosts around her banner. Such was the posi- 
 tion of the Girondists in reference to the Royal* 
 iste. They were ready to adopt the most ener- 
 getic measures to repel the interference of this 
 armed confederacy. 
 
 On the other hand, they saw another party, 
 noisy, turbulent, sanguinary, rising beneath 
 them, and threatening with destruction all con- 
 nected in any way with the execrated throne. 
 This new party, now emerging from the lowest 
 strata of society, upheaving all its superincum- 
 bent masses, consisted of the wan, the starving, 
 the haggard, the reckless. All of the abandon- 
 ed and the dissolute rallied beneath its banners 
 They called themselves the people. Amazon!, 
 an fish- women ; overgrown ooys, frith the faces 
 and the hearts of demons ; men and girls, who 
 had no homes but the kennels of Paris, in 
 countless thousands swelled its demonstrations
 
 1792.] MINISTRY OP M. ROLAND. 133 
 
 Danger of the Girondists. Their demand of the king 
 
 af power, whenever it pleased its leaders to call 
 them out. This was the Jacobin party. 
 
 The Girondists trembled before this myste- 
 rious apparition now looming up before them, 
 and clamoring for the overthrow of all human 
 distinctions. The crown had been struck from 
 the head of the king, and was snatched at by 
 the most menial and degraded of his subjects. 
 The Girondists, through Madame Roland, urg- 
 ed the Minister of the Interior that he should 
 demand of the king an immediate proclamation 
 of war against the emigrants and their support- 
 ers, and that he should also issue a decree 
 against the Catholic clergy who would not sup- 
 port the measures of the Revolution. It was, 
 indeed, a bitter draught for the king to drink. 
 Louis declared that he would rather die than 
 sign such a decree. The pressure of the popu- 
 lace was so tremendous, displayed in mobs, and 
 conflagrations, and massacres, that these deci- 
 sive measures seemed absolutely indispensable 
 for the preservation of the Girondist party and 
 the safety of the king. M. Roland was urged 
 to present to the throne a most earnest letter 
 of expostulation and advice. Madame Roland 
 gat down at her desk and wrote the letter for 
 her husband. It was expressed in that glowing
 
 134 MADAME ROLAND \1792 
 
 Letter to the king. Iti character 
 
 and impassioned style so eminently at her com- 
 mand. Its fervid eloquence was inspired by 
 the foresight she had of impending perils. M. 
 Roland, impressed by its eloquence, yet almost 
 trembling in view of its boldness and its truths, 
 presented the letter to the king Its last para- 
 graphs will give one some idea of its character. 
 
 " Love, serve the Revolution, and the people 
 will love it and serve it in you. Deposed priests 
 agitate the provinces. Ratify the measures to 
 extirpate their fanaticism. Paris trembles in 
 view of its danger. Surround its walls with an 
 army of defense. Delay longer, and you will 
 be deemed a conspirator and an accomplice 
 Just Heaven ! hast thou stricken kings with 
 blindness ? I know that truth is rarely wel- 
 comed at the foot of thrones. I know, too, that 
 the withholding of truth from kings renders 
 revolutions so often necessary. As a citizen, a 
 minister, I owe truth to tne king, and nothing 
 shall prevent me from making it reach hie 
 ear." 
 
 The advice contained in this letter was mast 
 unpalatable to the enfeebled monarch. The 
 adoption of the course it recommended was ap- 
 parently his only chance of refuge from certain 
 destruction. We must respect the magnanim-
 
 1792.] MINISTRY OP M. ROLAND. 135 
 
 Refusal if the king. DiapiMal of M. Roland. 
 
 ity of the king in refusing to sign the decree 
 against the firmest friends of his throne, and 
 we must also respect those who were strug- 
 gling against despotic power for the establish- 
 ment of civil and religious freedom. When we 
 think of the king and nis suffering family, our 
 sympathies are so enlisted in behalf of their 
 woes that we condemn the letter as harsh and 
 unfeeling. When we think for how many ages 
 the people of France had been crushed into pov- 
 erty and debasement, we rejoice to hear stern 
 and uncompromising truth fall upon the ear of 
 royalty. And yet Madame Roland's letter rath- 
 er excites our admiration for her wonderful 
 abilities than allures us to her by developments 
 of female loveliness. This celebrated letter was 
 presented to the king on the llth of June, 1792. 
 On the same day M. Roland received a letter 
 from the king informing him that he was dis- 
 missed from office. It is impossible to refrain 
 from applauding the king for this manifestation 
 of spirit and self-respect. Had he exhibited 
 more of this energy, he might at least have had 
 the honor of dying more gloriously ; tut, as the 
 intrepid wife of the minister dictated the letter 
 to the king, we can not doubt that it was the 
 Imperious wife of the king who diotat ed the dis-
 
 136 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 The letter remd to the AMembly. lu celebrity. 
 
 missal in reply. Maria Antoinette and Ma- 
 dame Roland met as Greek meets Greek. 
 
 "Here am I, dismissed from office," was M. 
 Roland's exclamation to his wife on his return 
 home. 
 
 " Present your letter to the Assembly, that 
 the nation may see for what counsel you have 
 been dismissed," replied the undaunted wife. 
 
 M. Roland did so. He was received as a 
 martyr to patriotism. The letter was read 
 amid the loudest applauses. It was ordered to 
 be printed, and circulated by tens of thousands 
 through the eighty-three departments of the 
 kingdom ; and from all those departments there 
 oame rolling back upon the metropolis the eoho 
 of the most tumultuous indignation and ap- 
 plause. The famous letter was read by all 
 France nay , more, by all E urope. Roland w as 
 a hero. The plaudits of the million fell upon 
 the ear of the defeated minister, while the exe- 
 crations of the million rose more loudly and om- 
 inously around the tottering throne. This b. ow, 
 truck by Madame Roland, was by far the heav- 
 ies^ the throne of France had yet received. She 
 who so loved to play the part of a heroine waa 
 not at all dismayed by defeat, when it oame 
 with such an aggrandizement of power. Upoo
 
 1792] MINISTRY OF M. ROLAND. 137 
 
 increasing Influence of the Rolands. Barbara**. 
 
 this wave of enthusiastic popularity Madame 
 Roland and her husband retired from the mag- 
 nificent palace where they had dwelt for so short 
 a time, and, with a little pardonable ostentation, 
 selected for their retreat very humble apart- 
 ments in an apparently obscure street of the 
 agitated metropolis. It was the retirement of 
 a philosopher proud of the gloom of his garret. 
 But M. Roland and wife were more powerful 
 now than ever before. The famous letter had 
 placed them in the front ranks of the friends of 
 reform, and enshrined them in the hearts of the 
 ever fickle populace. Even the Jacobins were 
 compelled to swell the universal voice of com- 
 mendation. M. Roland's apartments were ever 
 thronged. All important plans were discussed 
 and shaped by him and his wife before they 
 were presented in the Assembly. 
 
 There was a young statesman then in Paris 
 named Barbaroux, of remarkable beauty of per- 
 son, and of the richest mental endowments. 
 The elegance of his stature and the pensive 
 melancholy of his classic features invested him 
 with a peculiar power of fascination. Between 
 him and Madame Roland there existed the most 
 pure, though the strongest friendship. One day 
 he was sitting with M. Roland and wife, in so.
 
 138 MADAME ROLAND. [1792. 
 
 Project of republic. Seconder by Hadune Roland 
 
 cial conference upon the desperate troubles of 
 the times, when the dismissed minister said tc 
 him, " What is to be done to save France ? 
 There is no army upon which we can rely to 
 resist invasion. Unless we can circumvent the 
 plots of the court, all we have gained is lost. 
 In six weeks the Austrians will be at Paris. 
 Have we, then, labored at the most glorious of 
 revolutions for so many years, to see it over- 
 thrown in a single day? If liberty dies in 
 France, it is lost forever to mankind. All the 
 hopes of philosophy are deceived. Prejudice 
 and tyranny will again grasp the world. Let 
 us prevent this misfortune. If the armies of 
 despotism overrun the north of France, let us 
 retire to the southern provinces, and there es- 
 tablish a republic of freemen." 
 
 The tears glistened in the eyes of his wife a? 
 the 'istened to this bold proposal, so heroic in 
 its conception, so full of hazard, and demanding 
 such miracles of self-sacrifice and devotion. 
 Madame Roland, who perhaps originally sug- 
 gested the idea /to her husband, urged it with 
 all her impassioned energy. Barbaroux was 
 just the man to have his whole soul inflamed 
 by an enterprise of such grandeur. He drew a 
 rapid sketch of the resources and hopes of lib
 
 MiNibTBY OF M.ROLAND. 139 
 
 Barbaroux's opinion of the Rolands. The Girondists desert the kin j 
 
 erty in the south, and, taking a map, traced the 
 limits of the republic, from theDoubs, the Aire, 
 and the Rhone, to La Dordogne ; and from the 
 inaccessible mountains of Auvergne, to Du- 
 rance and the sea. A serene joy passed over 
 the features of the three, thus quietly originat- 
 ing a plan which was, with an earthquake's 
 power, to make every throne in Europe tottlO) 
 and to convulse Christendom to its very center 
 Barbaroux left them deeply impressed with a 
 sense of the grandeur and the perils of the en- 
 terprise, and remarked to a friend, " Of all the 
 men of modern times, Roland seems to me most 
 to resemble Cato ; but it must be owned that 
 it is to his wife that his courage and talents are 
 due." Previous to this hour the Girondists had 
 wished to sustain the throne, and merely to sur 
 round it with free institutions. They had tak- 
 en the government of England for their model. 
 From this day the Girondists, freed from all 
 obligations to the king, conspired secretly in 
 Madame Roland's chamber, and publicly in the 
 tribune, for the entire overthrow of the mon- 
 archy, and the establishment of a republic like 
 that of the United States. They rivaled the 
 Jacobins in the endeavor to see who could strike 
 the heaviest blows against the throne. It was
 
 140 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 Madame Roland'* influence over the Girondist*. Buzot adore* her 
 
 now a struggle between life and death. The 
 triumph of the invading army would be the ut- 
 ter destruction of all connected with the revo- 
 lutionary movement. And thus did Madame 
 Roland exert an influence more powerful, per- 
 haps, than that of any other one mind in the 
 demolition of the Bourbon despotism. 
 
 Her influence over the Girondist party was 
 such as no man ever can exert. Her conduct, 
 frank and open-hearted, was irreproachable, 
 ever above even the slightest suspicion of indis- 
 cretion. She could not be insensible to the 
 homage, the admiration of those she gathered 
 around her. Buzot adored Madame Roland aa 
 the inspiration of his mind, as the idol of his 
 worship. She had involuntarily gained thai 
 entire ascendency over his whole being which 
 made her the world to him. The secret of this 
 resistless enchantment was concealed until her 
 death ; it was then disclosed, and revealed the 
 mystery of a spiritual conflict such as few can 
 comprehend. She writes of Buzot, " Sensible, 
 ardent, melancholy, he seems born to give and 
 share happiness. This man would forget the 
 universe in the sweetness of private virtues. 
 Capable of sublime impulses and unvarying af- 
 fections, the vulgar, who like to depreciate what
 
 1792.] MINISTRY OF M. ROLAND. 141 
 
 Madame Roland's opinion of Buzot. Effect ail her death. 
 
 it can not equal, accuse him of being a dream- 
 er. Of sweet countenance, elegant figure, there 
 is always in his attire that care, neatness, and 
 propriety which announce the respect of self as 
 well as of others. While the dregs of the na- 
 tion elevate the flatterers and corrupters of the 
 people to station while cut-throats swear, 
 drink, and clothe themselves in rags, in ordei 
 to fraternize with the populace, Buzot possesses 
 the morality of Socrates, and maintains the de- 
 corum of Scipio. So they pull down his house, 
 and banish him as they did Aristides. I am 
 astonished that they have not issued a decree 
 that his name should be forgotten." 
 
 These words Madame Roland wrote in her 
 dungeon the night before her execution. Bu- 
 zot was then an exile, pursued by unrelenting 
 fury, and concealed in the caves of St. Emilion. 
 When the tidings reached him of the death of 
 Madame Roland, he fell to the ground as if 
 struck by lightning. For many days he was 
 in a state of phrensy, and was never again re- 
 stored to cheerfulness. 
 
 Danton now appeared hi the saloon of Ma- 
 dame Roland, with his gigantic statuie, and 
 shaggy hair, and voice of thunder, and crouch- 
 ed at the "eet of this mistress of hearts, whom
 
 142 MADAME KOLAKD. [1792 
 
 Dinton at Madame Roland's. New scene* of rlolene* 
 
 his sagacity perceived was soon again to be the 
 dispenser of power. She comprehended at a 
 glance his herculean abilities, and the import- 
 ant aid he could render the Republican cause. 
 She wished to win his co-operation, and at first 
 tried to conciliate him, " as a woman would pat 
 a lion ;" but soon, convinced of his heartless- 
 ness and utter want of principle, she spurned 
 him with abhorrence. He subsequently en- 
 deavorSd, again and again, to reinstate himself 
 in her favor, but in vain. Every hour scenes 
 of new violence were being enacted in Paris 
 and throughout all France. Roland was the 
 idol of the nation. The famous letter was the 
 subject of universal admiration. The outcry 
 against his dismission was falling in thunder 
 tones on the ear of the king. This act had fan- 
 ned to increased intensity those flames of revo- 
 lutionary phrensy which were now glaring with 
 portentous flashes in every part of France. The 
 people, intoxicated and maddened by the dis- 
 covery of their power, were now arrayed, with 
 irresistible thirstings for destruction and blood, 
 against the king, the court, and the nobility. 
 The royal family, imprisoned in the Tuileries, 
 wer3 each day drinking cf the cup of humilia- 
 tion to its lowest dregs. Austria and Prussia;
 
 1792.J MINISTRT OF M. ROLAND. 1431 
 
 Outrages of the mob. Recall of M. Roland 
 
 united with the emigrants at Coblentz, prepar- 
 ed to march to Paris to reinstate the king upon 
 his throne. Excitement, consternation, phren- 
 sy, pervaded all hearts. A vast assemblage of 
 countless thousands of women, and boys, and 
 wan and starving men, gathered in the streets 
 of Paris. Harangues against the king and the 
 aristocrats rendered them delirious with rage 
 They crowded all the avenues to the Tuileries, 
 burst through the gates and over the walls, 
 dashed down the doors and stove in the win- 
 dows, and, with obscene ribaldry, rioted through 
 all the apartments sacred to royalty. They 
 thrust the dirty red cap of Jacobinism upon the 
 head of the King. They poured into the ear of 
 the humiliated queen the most revolting and 
 loathsome execrations. There was no hope for 
 Louis but in the recall of M. Roland. The 
 court party could give him no protection. The 
 Jacobins were upon him in locust legions. M. 
 Roland alone could bring the Girondists, as a 
 shield, between the throne and the mob. He 
 was recalled, and again moved, in calm tri- 
 umph, from his obscure chambers to the rcgai 
 palace of the minister. If Madame Roland's 
 letter dismissed him from office, her letter also 
 restored him again with an enormous aocuirm* 
 iation of power
 
 144 MADAME ROLAND. (17*12 
 
 Pertloui situation of M. Roland. , HI* wife'i mode of livtnj 
 
 His situation was not an enviable one. El- 
 evated as it was in dignity and influence, it was 
 full of perplexity, toil, and peril. The spirit of 
 revolution was now rampant, and no earthly 
 power could stay it. It was inevitable that 
 those who would not recklessly ride upon its 
 billows must be overwhelmed by its resistless 
 surges. Madame Roland was far more con- 
 scious of the peril than her husband. With in- 
 tense emotion, but calmly and firmly, she look 
 ed upon the gathering storm. The peculiarity 
 of her character, and her great moral courage, 
 was illustrated by the mode of life she vigor- 
 ously adopted. Raised from obscurity to a po- 
 sition so commanding, with rank and wealth 
 bowing obsequiously around her, she was en- 
 tirely undazzled, and resolved that, consecrat- 
 ing all her energies to the demands of the tem- 
 pestuous times, she would waste no time in 
 fashionable parties and heartless visits. "My 
 love of study," she said, " is as great as my de- 
 testation of cards, and the society of silly peo* 
 pie affords me no amusement." ,Twice a week 
 she gave a dinnei; to the members of the minis- 
 try, and other influential men in the political 
 world, with whom her husband wished to con- 
 feree. The palace was furnished to their hand*
 
 1792.] MINISTRY OF M. ROLAHD. 147 
 
 Library of Madame Roland. Moating* ther* 
 
 by its former occupants with Oriental luxury* 
 Selecting for her own use, as before, one of the 
 smallest parlors, she furnished it as her library. 
 Here she lived, engrossed in study, busy with 
 her pen, and taking an unostentatious and un- 
 seen, but most active part, in all those meas- 
 ures which were literally agitating the whole 
 civilized world. Her little library was the sanc- 
 tuary for all confidential conversation upon 
 matters of state. Here her husband met his 
 political friends to mature their measures. The 
 gentlemen gathered, evening after evening, 
 around the table in the center of the room, M. 
 Roland, with his serene, reflective brow, pre- 
 siding at their head, while Madame Roland, at 
 her work-table by the fireside, employed herself 
 with her needle or her pen. Her mind, how- 
 ever, was absorbed by the conversation which 
 was passing. M. Roland, in fact, in giving his 
 own views, was but recapitulating those senti- 
 Taents with which his mind was imbued from 
 previous conference with his companion. 
 
 It is not possible that one endowed with the 
 ardont and glowing imagination of Madame 
 Roland should not, at times, feel inwardly the 
 spirit of exultation in the consciousness of this 
 ra*t power. From the windows of her palace
 
 148 MADAME ROLAND. [1792. 
 
 StrUdHf contra*. Labor* of Mada 
 
 she looked down upon the shop of the mechan 
 io where her infancy was cradled, and upon 
 those dusty streets where she had walked an 
 obscure child, while proud aristocracy swept by 
 her in splendor that very aristocracy looking 
 now imploringly to her for a smile. She pos- 
 sessed that peculiar tact, which enabled her oft- 
 en to guide the course of political measures 
 without appearing to do so. She was only anx- 
 ious to promote the glory of her husband, and 
 was never more happy than when he was re- 
 ceiving plaudits for works which she had per- 
 formed. She wrote many of his proclama- 
 tions, his letters, his state papers, and with all 
 the glowing fervor of a^i enthusiastic woman. 
 " Without me," she writes, " my husband would 
 have been quite as good a minister, for his 
 knowledge, his activity, his integrity were all 
 his own ; but with me he attracted more at- 
 tention, because I infused into his writings that 
 mixture of spirit and gentleness, of authorita- 
 tive reason and seducing sentiment, which is, 
 perhaps, only to be found in the language of a 
 woman who has a clear head and a feeling 
 heart." This frank avowal of just self-appre- 
 ciation is not vanity. A vain woman could not 
 have won the love and homage of so many of 
 the noblest, m^n of Prance.
 
 1792.] MINISTRY OF M. ROLAND. 149 
 
 French artists at Roma Letter to the pop* 
 
 A curious circumstance occurred at this time, 
 which forcibly and even ludicrously struck Ma- 
 dame Roland's mind, as she reflected upon the 
 wonderful changes of life, and the peculiar po- 
 sition which she now occupied, Some French 
 artists had been imprisoned by the pope at 
 Rome. The Executive Council of France wish- 
 ed to remonstrate and demand their release. 
 Madame Roland sat down to write the letter, 
 severe and authoritative, to his holiness, threat- 
 ening him with the severest vengeance if he 
 refused to comply with the request. As in her 
 little library she prepared this communication 
 to the head of the Papal States and of the Cath- 
 olic Church, she paused, with her pen in her 
 hand, and reflected upon her situation but a 
 few years before as the humble daughter of an 
 engraver. She recalled to mind the emotions 
 of superstitious awe and adoration with which, 
 in the nunnery, she had regarded his holiness 
 as next to the Deity, and almost his equal. She 
 read over some of the imperious passages which 
 ihe had now addressed to the pope in the unaf- 
 fected dignity of conscious power, and the con- 
 trast was so striking, and struck her as so lu- 
 dicrous, that she burst into an uncontrollable 
 paroxysm of laughter.
 
 100 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 Rerenet of fortuns 
 
 When Jane was a diffident maiden of seven- 
 teen, she went onoe with her aunt to the resi- 
 dence of a nobleman of exalted rank and raart 
 wealth, and had there been invited to dine with 
 the servants. The proud spirit of Jane wa 
 touched to the quick. With a burning brow 
 he sat down in the servants' hall, with stew- 
 ards, and butlers, and cooks, and footmen, and 
 vale* de chambres, and ladies' maids of every de- 
 gree, all dressed in tawdry finery, and assum- 
 ing the most disgusting airs of self-importance. 
 She went home despising in her heart both 
 lords and menials, and dreaming, with new as- 
 pirations, of her Roman republic. One day, 
 when Madame Roland was in power, she had 
 just passed from her splendid dining-room, 
 where she had been entertaining the most dis- 
 tinguished men of the empire, into her drawing- 
 room, when a gray-headed gentleman entered, 
 and bowing profoundly and most obsequiously 
 before her, entreated the honor of an introduo 
 tion to the Minister of the Interior. This gen 
 tleman was M.,Haudry, with whose servanti 
 he had been invited to dine. This once proud 
 aristocrat, who, in the wreck of the Revolution, 
 had lost both wealth and rank, now saw Ma- 
 dame Roland elevated as far above him as br
 
 1792.] MINISTRY OP M. ROLAND, 151 
 
 Increasing anarchy Busenem of the Jaeobla*. 
 
 had formerly been exalted above her. She re- 
 membered the many scenes in which her spirit 
 had been humiliated by haughty assumptions 
 She could not but feel the triumph to which 
 circumstances had borne her, though magna 
 nimity restrained its manifestation. 
 
 Anarchy now reigned throughout France. 
 The king and the royal family were imprisoned 
 in the Temple. The Girondists in the Legis- 
 lative Assembly, which had now assumed the 
 name of the National Convention, and M. Ro- 
 land at the head of the ministry, were strug- 
 gling, with herculean exertions, to restore the 
 dominion of law, and, if possible, to save the life 
 of the king. The Jacobins, who, unable to re- 
 sist the boundless popularity of M. Roland, had, 
 for a time, co-operated with the Girondists, now 
 began to separate themselves again more and 
 more widely from them. They flattered the 
 mob. They encouraged every possible demon- 
 stration of lawless violence. They pandered to 
 the passions of the multitude by affecting gross- 
 neas and vulgarity in person, and language, and 
 manners ; by clamoring for the division of prop- 
 erty, and for the death of the king. In tones 
 daily increasing in boldness and efficiency, they 
 declared the Girondists to be the fiends of th
 
 152 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 tt throne dcmollihad. - Cry for republic 
 
 monarch, and the enemies of popular liberty 
 Upon this tumultuous wave of polluted democ- 
 racy, now rising with resistless and crested bil- 
 low, Danton and Robespierre were riding into 
 their terrific power. Humanity shut its eyes 
 in view of the hideous apparition of wan and 
 haggard beggary and crime. The deep mut- 
 terings of this rising storm, which no earthly 
 hand might stay, rolled heavily upon the ear of 
 Europe. Christendom looked astounded upon 
 the spectacle of a barbarian invasion bursting 
 forth from the cellars and garrets of Paris. Op- 
 pressed and degraded humanity was about to 
 take vengeance for its ages of accumulated 
 wrongs. The throne was demolished. The in- 
 sulted royal family, in rags and almost in star- 
 vation, were in a dungeon. The universal cry 
 from the masses of the people was now for a 
 republic. Jacobins and Girondists united in 
 this cry ; but the Jacobins accused the Girond- 
 ists of being insincere, and of secretly plotting 
 for the restoration of the king. 
 
 Madame Roland, in the name of her hus- 
 band, drew up for the Convention the plan of a 
 republic as a substitute for the throne. From 
 childhood she had yearned for a republic, with 
 its liberty an 1 purity, fascinated by the ideal of
 
 1792.] MINISTRY OF ML ROLAND. 153 
 
 The Republic. Waning of M. Roland's power 
 
 Roman virtue, from which her lively imagina- 
 tion had banished all human corruption. But 
 now that the throne and hereditary rank were 
 virtually abolished, and all France clamoring 
 for a republic, and the pen in her hand to pre- 
 sent to the Nitional Assembly a Constitution 
 of popular liberty, her heart misgave her. Hei 
 husband was nominally Minister of the Interior, 
 but his power was gone. The mob of Paris 
 had usurped the place of king, and Constitution, 
 and law. The Jacobins were attaining the de- 
 cided ascendency. The guillotine was daily 
 crimsoned with the blood of the noblest citizens 
 of France. The streets and the prisons were 
 polluted with the massacre of the innocent. 
 The soul of Madame Roland recoiled with hor- 
 ror at the scenes she daily witnessed. The Gi- 
 rondists struggled in vain to resist the torrent, 
 but they were swept before it. The time had 
 been when the proclamation of a republic would 
 have filled her soul with inexpressible joy. Now 
 she could see no gleam of hope for her country 
 The restoration of the monarchy was impossi- 
 ble. The substitution of a republic was inevi- 
 table. No earthly power could prevent it. In 
 that republic she saw only the precursor of her 
 ewn ruin, the ruin of all dear to her, and gen-
 
 154 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 Madame Roland's dUguut at the horror* of the Rorolntlea. 
 
 eral anarchy. "With a dejected spirit she wrote 
 to a friend, " We are tinder the knife of Robes- 
 pierre and Marat. You know my enthusiasm 
 for the Revolution. I am ashamed of it now. 
 It has been sullied by monsters. It is ludeous "
 
 1792.] THE JACOBINS. 155 
 
 Adranc* of the alliei. Hope* of the kinf't Hawk. 
 
 CHAPTER VJI 
 MADAME ROLAND AND THE JACOBINS. 
 
 ri^HE Prussians were now advancing on their 
 -*- march to Paris. One after another of the 
 frontier cities of France were capitulating to 
 the invaders as the storm of bomb-shells, from 
 the batteries of the allied army, was rained down 
 npon their roofs. The French were retreating 
 before their triumphant adversaries. Sanguine 
 hopes sprung up in the bosoms of the friends of 
 the monarchy that the artillery of the Prussians 
 would soon demolish the iron doors of the Tem- 
 ple, where the king and the royal family were 
 imprisoned, and reinstate the captive monarch 
 upon his throne. The Revolutionists were al- 
 most frantic in view of their peril. They knew 
 that there were tens of thousands in Paris, of 
 the most wealthy and the most influential, and 
 hundreds of thousands in France, who would, 
 at the slightest prospect of success, welcome 
 the Prussians as their deliverers. Should the 
 king thus prove victorious, the leaders in the 
 revolutionary movement had sinned too deeply
 
 156 MADAMS ROLAND. [1792 
 
 Ccuternmtion at Paris. Speech of DtntQM. 
 
 to hope for pardon. Death was their inevitable 
 doom. Consternation pervaded the metropolis. 
 The magnitude of this peril united all the rev- 
 olutionary parties for their common defense. 
 Even Vergniaud, the most eloquent leader of 
 the Girondists, proposed a decree of death 
 against every citizen of a besieged city wh 
 should speak of surrender. 
 
 It was midnight in the Assembly. The 
 most extraordinary and despotic measures were 
 adopted by acclamation to meet the fearful 
 emergence. " We must rouse the whole pop- 
 ulace of France," exclaimed Danton, in those 
 tones which now began to thrill so portentously 
 upon the ear of Europe, " and hurl thorn, en 
 masse, upon our invaders. There are traitors 
 in Paris, ready to join our foes. We must ar- 
 rest them all, however numerous they may be. 
 The peril is imminent. The precautions adopt- 
 ed must be correspondingly prompt and deci- 
 sive. With the morning sun we must visit 
 every dwelling in Paris, and imprison those 
 whom we have reason to fear will join the ene- 
 mies of the nation, even though they be thirty 
 thousand in number." 
 
 The decree passed without hesitation. The 
 gates of Paris were to be locked, that none might
 
 1792.J THE JACOBINS. 167 
 
 Oetpottc meworec. Domiciliary rWU. 
 
 escape. Carriages were to be excluded from 
 the streets. All citizens were ordered to be at 
 home. The sections, the tribunals, the clubs 
 were to suspend their sittings, that the public 
 attention might not be distracted. All houses 
 were to be brilliantly lighted in the evening, 
 that the search might be more effectually con- 
 ducted. Commissaries, accompanied by armed 
 soldiers, were, in the name of the law, to enter 
 every dwelling. Each citizen should show what 
 arms he had. If any thing excited suspicion, 
 the individual and his premises were to be 
 searched with the utmost vigilance. If the 
 slightest deception had been practiced, in deny 
 ing or in not fully confessing any suspicious ap- 
 pearances, the person was to be arrested and im- 
 prisoned. If a person were found in any dwell- 
 ing but his own, he was to be imprisoned as un- 
 der suspicion. Guards were to be placed in all 
 unoccupied houses. A double cordon of soldiers 
 were stationed around the walls, to arrest all 
 who should attempt to escape. Armed boats 
 floated upon the Seine, at the two extremities 
 of Paris, that every possible passage of escape 
 might be closed. Gardens, groves, promenades, 
 ill were to be searched. 
 
 With so much energy was this work conduct-
 
 158 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 Opeclajoftheeta,mb. Terror f th p*opl 
 
 ed, that that very night a body of workmen were 
 sent, with torches and suitable tools, to open an 
 access to the subterranean burial-grounds ex- 
 tending under a portion of Paris, that a speedy 
 disposal might be made of the anticipated mul- 
 titude of dead bodies. The decree, conveying 
 terror to ten thousand bosoms, spread with the 
 rapidity of lightning through the streets and the 
 dwellings of Paris. Every one who had ex 
 pressed a sentiment of loyalty ; every one who 
 had a friend who was an emigrant or a loyalist ; 
 every one who had uttered a word of censure 
 ii reference to the sanguinary atrocities of the 
 Revolution ; every one who inherited an illustri- 
 ous name, or who had an unfriendly neighbor 
 or an inimical servant, trembled at the swift 
 approach of the impending doom. 
 
 Bands of men, armed with pikes, brought 
 into power from the dregs of society, insolent, 
 merciless, and resistless, accompanied by mar- 
 tial music, traversed the streets in all direc- 
 tions. As the commissaries knocked at a door, 
 the family within were pale and paralyzed with 
 terror. The brutal inquisitors appeared to de- 
 light in the anguish which their stern office em 
 torted, and the more refined the family in cul- 
 ture or the more elevated in rank, the more se
 
 1792.] THE JACOBIKB. 159 
 
 Scenes of terror. Vain attempts at concealment 
 
 verely did vulgarity in power trample them in 
 the dust of humiliation. They took with them 
 workmen acquainted with all possible modes 
 of concealment. They broke locks, burst in 
 panels, out open beds and mattresses, tore up 
 floors, sounded wells, explored garrets and cel- 
 lars for secret doors and vaults, and could they 
 find in any house an individual Whom affection 
 or hospitality had sheltered, a rusty gun, an 
 old picture of any member of the royal family, 
 a button with the royal arms, a letter from a 
 suspected person, or containing a sentiment 
 against the " Reign of Terror," the father was 
 instantly and rudely torn from his home, his 
 wife, his children, and hurried with ignomini- 
 ous violence, as a traitor unfit to live, through 
 the streets, to the prison. It was a night of 
 woe in Paris. 
 
 The friends of the monarchy soon found all 
 efforts at concealment unavailing. They had 
 at first crept into chimneys, from which they 
 were soon smoked out. They had concealed 
 themselves behind tapestry. But pikes and bay- 
 onet* were with derision thrust through their 
 oodies. They had burrowed in holes in the cel- 
 lars, and endeavored to blind the eye of pursuit 
 oy coverings of barrels, or lumber, or wood, of
 
 160 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 Humbert arrested. The prierth 
 
 coal. But fee stratagems of affection were 
 equally matched by the sagacity of revolution- 
 ary phrensy, and the doomed were dragged to 
 light. Many of the Royalists had fled to the 
 hospitals, where, in the wards of infection, they 
 shared tho beds of the dead and the dying. But 
 even there they were followed and arrested. 
 The domiciliary visits were continued for three 
 days. " The whole city was like a prisoner, 
 whose limbs are held while he is searched 
 and fettered." Ten thousand suspected per- 
 sons were seized and committed to the prisons. 
 Many were massacred in their dwellings or in 
 the streets. Some were subsequently libera- 
 ted, as having been unjustly arrested. 
 
 Thirty priests were dragged into a room at 
 the Hotel de Ville. Five coaches, each con- 
 taining six of the obnoxious prisoners, started 
 to convey thorn to the prison of the Abbaye. 
 A countless mob gathered around them as an 
 alarm-gun gave the signal for the coaches to 
 proceed on their way. The windows were open 
 that the populace might see those whom tbey 
 deemed traitors to their country, and whrra 
 they believed to be ready to join the army of 
 invasion, now so triumphantly approaching 
 Every moment the mob increased in density,
 
 1792.J THE JACOBIMS. 161 
 
 A human fiend. Butchery of the priest*, 
 
 and with difficulty the coaches wormed their 
 way through the tumultuous gatherings. Oaths 
 and execrations rose on every side. Gesture* 
 and threats of violence were fearfully increas- 
 ing, when a vast multitude of men, and women, 
 and boys came roaring down a cross-street, and 
 so completely blocked up the way that a peace- 
 ful passage was impossible. The carriages stop- 
 ped. A man with his shirt-sleeves rolled up to 
 the elbows, and a glittering saber in his hand, 
 forced his way through the escort, and, deliber 
 ately standing upon the steps of one of the coach 
 es, clinging with one hand to the door, plunged 
 again, and again, and again his saber into the 
 bodies of the priests, wherever chance might di- 
 rect it. He drew it out reeking with blood, 
 and waved it before the people. A hideous yell 
 of applause rose from the multitude, and again 
 he plunged his saber into the carriage. The as- 
 sassin then passed to the next coach, and again 
 enacted the same act of horrid butchery upon the 
 (struggling priests crowded into the carriages, 
 with no shield and with no escape. Thus he 
 went, from one to the other, through the whole 
 line of coaches, while the armed escort looked 
 on with derisive laughter, and shouts of fiend- 
 
 Vsh exultation rose from the phrensiod multi- 
 is n
 
 163 MADAME ROLAND. {179* 
 
 ArrlYftl at the prUon. 
 
 tude. The mounted troops slowly forced open 
 a passage for the carriages, and they moved 
 along, marking their passage by the streams of 
 bvood which dripped, from their dead and dying 
 inmates, upon the pavements. When they ar- 
 rived at the prison, eight dead bodies were drag- 
 ged from the floor of the vehicles, and many of 
 those not dead were horridly mutilated and clot- 
 ted with gore. The wretched victims precipi- 
 tated themselves with the utmost consternation 
 into the prison, as a retreat from the billows of 
 rage surging and roaring around them. 
 
 But the scene within was still more terrible 
 than that without. In the spacious hall open- 
 ing into the court-yard of the prison there was 
 a table, around which sat twelve men. Their 
 brawny limbs, and coarse and brutal coun- 
 tenances, proclaimed them familiar with de- 
 bauch and blood. Their attire was that of the 
 lowest class in society, with woolen caps on 
 their heads, shirt sleeves rolled up, unembar- 
 rassed by either vest or coat, and butchers' 
 aprons bound around them. At the head of 
 the table sat Maillard, at that time the idol of 
 the blood-thirsty mob of Paris. These men 
 composed a self-constituted tribunal to award 
 life or instant death to those brought before
 
 1792.J THE JACOBINS. 163 
 
 M MMcro la the priaoni. Ftendlah orgle* 
 
 them. First appeared one hundred and fifty 
 Swiss officers and soldiers who had been in the 
 employ of the king. They were brought en 
 masse before the tribunal. " You have assas- 
 sinated the people," said Maillard, " and they 
 demand vengeance." The door was open. The 
 assassins in the court-yard, with weapons reek- 
 ing with blood, were howling for their prey. 
 The soldiers were driven into the yard, and they 
 foil beneath the blows of bayonets, sabers, and 
 clubs, and their gory bodies were piled up, a 
 hideous mound, in the corners of the court. The 
 priests, without delay, met with the same fate. 
 A moment sufficed for trial, and verdict, and 
 execution. Night came. Brandy and excite- 
 ment had roused the demon in the human 
 heart. Life was a plaything, murder a pas- 
 time. Torches were lighted, refreshments in- 
 troduced, songs of mirth and joviality rose upon 
 the night air, and still the horrid carnage con- 
 tinued unabated. Now and then, from caprice, 
 one was liberated; but the innocent and the 
 guilty fell alike. Suspicion was crime. An 
 illustrious name was guilt, There was no time 
 for defense. A frown from the judge was fol- 
 lowed by a blow from the assassin. A similar 
 cone was transpiring in all the orisons of Par-
 
 164 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 female fpecteton. Character of the rlcttmt 
 
 is. Carts were continually arriving to remove 
 the dead bodies, which accumulated much fast- 
 er than they could be borne away. The court- 
 yards became wet and slippery with blood. 
 Straw was brought in and strewn thickly ovei 
 the stones, and benches were placed against the 
 walls to accommodate those women who wish- 
 ed to gaze upon the butchery. The benches 
 were immediately filled with females, exulting 
 in the death of all whom they deemed tainted 
 with aristocracy, and rejoicing to see the ex- 
 alted and the refined falling beneath the clubs 
 of the ragged and the degraded. The murder- 
 ers made use of the bodies of the dead for seats, 
 upon which they drank their brandy mingled 
 with gunpowder, and smoked their pipes. In 
 the nine prisons of Paris these horrors contin- 
 ued unabated till they were emptied of their 
 victims. Men most illustrious in philanthropy, 
 /ank, and virtue, were brained with clubs by 
 overgrown boys, who accompanied their blows 
 with fiendish laughter. Ladies of the highest 
 accomplishments, of exalted beauty and of spot- 
 less purity, were hacked in pieces by the low- 
 est wretches who had crawled from the dens of 
 pollution, and their dismembered limbs were 
 borne on the points of pikes in derision through
 
 1792.J THE JACOBINS. 163 
 
 The Blcetre. Mwaben oMMMrecd 
 
 the streets of the metropolis. Children, even, 
 were involved in this blind slaughter. They 
 were called the cubs of aristocracy. 
 
 We can not enter more minutely into the 
 details of these sickening scenes, for the soul 
 turns from them weary of life ; and yet thus 
 far we must go, for it is important that all eyes 
 should read this dreadful yet instructive lesson 
 that all may know that there is no despotism 
 so dreadful as the despotism of anarchy that 
 there are no laws more to be abhorred than the 
 absence of all law. 
 
 In the prison of the Bioetre there were three 
 thousand five hundred captives. The ruffians 
 forced the gates, drove in the dungeon doors 
 with cannon, and for five days and five nights 
 continued the slaughter. The phrensy of the 
 intoxicated mob increased each day, and hordes 
 came pouring out from all the foul dens of pol- 
 lution greedy for carnage. The fevered thirst 
 for blood was inextinguishable. No tongue can 
 now tell the number of the victims. The man- 
 gled bodies were hurried to the catacombs, and 
 thrown into an indiscriminate heap of corrup- 
 tion. By many it is estimated that more than 
 ten thousand fell during these massacres. Tho 
 tidings of these outrages spread through all the
 
 166 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 Qirli Mnt to the gufflotina. Thoir heroUm 
 
 provinces of France, and stimulated to similai 
 atrocities the mob in every city. At Orleans 
 the houses of merchants were sacked, the mer- 
 chants and others of wealth or high standing 
 massacred, while some who had offered resist- 
 ance were burned at slow fires. 
 
 In one town, in the vicinity of the Prussian 
 army, some Loyalist gentlemen, sanguine in 
 view of the success of their friends, got up an 
 entertainment in honor of their victories. At 
 this entertainment their daughters danced. The* 
 young ladies were all arrested, fourteen in num- 
 ber, and taken in a cart to the guillotine. 
 These young and beautiful girls, all between 
 the ages of fourteen and eighteen, and from the 
 most refined and opulent families, were behead- 
 ed. The group of youth and innocence stood 
 clustered at the foot of the scaffold, while, one 
 by one, their companions ascended, were bound 
 to the plank, the ax fell, and their heads drop- 
 ped into the basket. It seems that there must 
 have been some supernatural power of support 
 to have sustained children under so awful an 
 ordeal. There were no faintings, no loud lam* 
 entations, no shrieks of despair. With the se- 
 renity of martyrs they met their fate, each one 
 emulous of showing to her companion* how 
 much like a heroine she could die.
 
 1792.] THE JACOBINS. 167 
 
 The assassin* rewarded. They threaten their Instigator* 
 
 These scenes were enacted at the instigation 
 of the Jacobins. Danton and Marat urged on 
 these merciless measures of lawless violence. 
 " We must," said they, " strike terror into the 
 hearts of our foes. It is oar only safety." 
 They sent agents into the most degraded quar- 
 ters of the city to rouse and direct the mob. 
 They voted abundant supplies to the wretched 
 assassins who had broken into the prisons, and 
 involved youth and age, and innocence and 
 guilt, in indiscriminate carnage. The murder- 
 ers, reeking in intoxication and besmeared with 
 blood, came in crowds to the door of the mu- 
 nicipality to claim their reward. " Do you 
 think," said a brawny, gigantic wretch, with 
 tucked-up sleeves, in the garb of a butcher, and 
 with his whole person bespattered with blood 
 and brains, " do you think that I have earned 
 but twenty-four francs to-day? I have killed 
 forty aristocrats with my own hands!" The 
 money was soon exhausted, and still the crowd 
 of assassins thronged the committee. Indig- 
 nant that their claims were not instantly dis- 
 charged, they presented their bloody weapons at 
 the throats of their instigators, and threatened 
 them with immediate death if the money were 
 Dot furnished. Thus urged, the committee suo-
 
 168 MADAME ROLAND. [1792. 
 
 Pert of the CHrondUt. 
 
 oeeded in paying one half the sum, and gave 
 bonds for the rest. 
 
 M. Roland was almost frantic in view of these 
 horrors, which he had no power to quell. The 
 mob, headed by the Jacobins, had now the com- 
 plete ascendency, and he was minister but in 
 name. He urged upon the Assembly the adop- 
 tion of immediate and energetic measures to ar- 
 rest these execrable deeds of lawless violence. 
 Many of the Girondists in the Assembly gave 
 vehement but unavailing utterance to their ex- 
 ecration of the massacres. Others were intim- 
 idated by the weapon which the Jacobins were 
 now so effectually wielding ; for they knew that 
 it might not be very difficult so to direct the 
 fury of the mob as to turn those sharp blades, 
 now dripping with blood, from the prisons into 
 the hall of Assembly, and upon the throats of 
 all obnoxious to Jacobin power. The Girond- 
 ists trembled in view of their danger. They 
 had aided in opening the sluice-ways of a tor- 
 rent which was now sweeping every thing be- 
 fore it. Madame Roland distinctly saw and 
 deeply felt the peril to which she and her friends 
 were exposed. She knew, and they all knew, 
 that defeat was death. The great struggle now 
 In the Assembly was for the popular voioe
 
 1792.] THB JACOBINS. 
 
 Tha Assembly juiroonded. Adroitoe** of the jMobtM 
 
 The Girondists hoped, though almost in de- 
 spair, that it was not yet too late to show the 
 people the horrors of anarchy, and to rally 
 around themselves the multitude to sustain a 
 well-established and law-revering republic. The 
 Jacobins determined to send their opponents tc 
 the scaffold, and by the aid of the terrors of the 
 mob, now enlisted on their side, resistlessly to 
 carry all their measures. A hint from the Jac- 
 obin leaders surrounded the Assembly with the 
 hideous howlings of a haggard concourse of be- 
 ings just as merciless and demoniac as lost 
 spirits. They exhibited these allies to the Gi- 
 -ondists as a bull-dog shows his teeth. 
 
 In speeches, and placards, and proclamations 
 they declared the Girondists to be, in heart, the 
 enemies of the Republic. They accused them 
 of hating the Revolution in consequence of its 
 necessary severity, and of plotting in secret for 
 the restoration of the king. With great adroit- 
 ness, they introduced measures which the Gi 
 rondists must either support, and thus aid the 
 Jacobins, or oppose, and increase the suspicion 
 of the populace, and rouse their rage against 
 them. The allied army, with seven thousand 
 French emigrants and over a hundred thousand 
 highly-disciplined troops, under the most
 
 170 MADAME ROLAMD. [1792 
 
 vdTMM of the BUM. Katoptem and Dantoo 
 
 and experienced generals, was slowly but sure- 
 ly advancing toward Paris, to release the king, 
 replace him on the throne, and avenge the in- 
 sults to royalty. The booming of their artil- 
 lery was heard reverberating among the hills 
 of France, ever drawing nearer and nearer to 
 the insurgent metropolis, and sending conster- 
 nation into all hearts. Under these circum- 
 stances, the Jacobins, having massacred those 
 deemed the friends of the aristocrats, now gath- 
 ered their strength to sweep before them all their 
 adversaries. They passed a decree ordering 
 every man in Paris, capable of bearing arms, 
 to shoulder his musket and march to the front- 
 iers to meet the invaders. If money was want- 
 ed, it was only necessary to send to the guillo- 
 tine the aristocrat who possessed it, and to con- 
 fiscate his estate. 
 
 Robespierre and Danton had now broken off 
 all intimacy with Madame Roland and her 
 friends. They no longer appeared in the little 
 library where the Girondist leaders so often 
 met, but, placing themselves at the head of the 
 unorganized and 'tumultuous party now so rap- 
 idly gaining the ascendency, they were swept 
 before it as the crest is borne by the billow 
 Madame Roland urged most strenuously upon
 
 1792,] THE JACOBINS. 171 
 
 Bold measurei proposed by Madame Roland. 
 
 her friends that those persons in the Assembly, 
 the leaders of the Jacobin party, who had insti- 
 gated the massacres in the prisons, should be 
 accused, and brought to trial and punishment. 
 It required peculiar boldness, at that hour, to ac- 
 cuse Robespierre and Danton of crime. Though 
 thousands in France were horror-stricken at 
 these outrages, the mob, who now ruled Paris, 
 would rally instantaneously at the sound of the 
 tocsin for the protection of their idols. 
 
 Madame Roland was one evening urging 
 Vergniaud to take that heroic and desperate 
 stand. " The only hope for France," said she 
 "is in the sacredness of law. This atrocious 
 carnage causes thousands of bosoms to thril. 
 with horror, and all the wise and the good in 
 France and in the world will rise to sustain 
 those who expose their own hearts as a barrier 
 to arrest such enormities." 
 
 " Of what avail," was the reply, in tones of 
 sadness, " can such exertions be ? The assas- 
 sins are supported by all the power of the street. 
 Such a conflict must necessarily terminate in 
 a street fight. The cannon are with our foes. 
 The most prominent of the friends of order are 
 massacred. Terror wiL restrain the rest. W 
 hall only provoke our own destruction."
 
 172 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 teclilre itaad taken by MM. lloland and VergnUud. 
 
 "Of what use is life," rejoins the intrepid 
 woman, " if we must live in this base subjec- 
 tion to a degraded mob ? Let us contend foi 
 the right, and if we must die, let us rejoice tc 
 die with dignity and with heroism." 
 
 Though despairing of success, and apprehen- 
 sive that their own doom was already sealed, 
 M. Roland and Vergniaud, roused to action by 
 this ruling spirit, the next day made their ap- 
 pearance in the Assembly with the heroic re- 
 solve to throw themselves before the torrent 
 now rushing so wildly. They stood there, how- 
 ever, but the 'representatives of Madame Ro- 
 land, inspired by her energies, and giving utter- 
 ance to those eloquent sentiments which had 
 burst from her lips. 
 
 The Assembly listened in silence as M. Ro- 
 land, in an energetic discourse, proclaimed the 
 true principles of law and order, and called upon 
 the Assembly to defend its own dignity against 
 popular violence, and to raise an armed force 
 consecrated to the security of liberty and jus- 
 tice. Encouraged by these appearances of re- 
 turning moderation, others of the Girondist 
 rose, and, with great boldness and vehemence, 
 urged decisive action. " It requires some cour^ 
 ago," said Kersaint, ' to rise up here against a
 
 1792.] THE JACOBIMS. 173 
 
 The Girondists defeated. Resignation of M. Rolta* 
 
 sassins, but it is time to erect scaffolds for those 
 who provoke assassination." The strife con- 
 tinued for two or three days, with that intense 
 ex3V,ement which a conflict for life or death 
 must necessarily engender. The question be- 
 tween the Girondist and the Jacobin was, " Who 
 shall lie down on the guillotine ?" For some 
 time the issue of the struggle was uncertain. 
 The Jacobins summoned their allies, the mob. 
 They surrounded the doors and the windows of 
 the Assembly, and with their howlings sustained 
 their friends. " I have just passed through the 
 crowd," said a member, " and have witnessed 
 its excitement. If the act of accusation is car- 
 ried, many a head will lie low before another 
 morning dawns." The Girondists found them- 
 selves, at the close of the struggle, defeated, yet 
 not so decidedly but that they still clung to hope. 
 M. Roland, who had not yet entirely lost, with 
 the people, that popularity which swept him, on 
 so triumphant a billow, again into the office of 
 Minister of the Interior, now, conscious of his 
 utter impotenoy, presented to the Assembly his 
 resignation of power which was merely nomin- 
 al. Great efforts had for some time been made, 
 by his adversaries, to turn the tide of popular 
 hatred against him, and especially against his
 
 174 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 Attack* upon Madame Roland. How recMrad to the AMMkbiy 
 
 wife, whom Danton and Robespierre recognized 
 and proclaimed as the animating and inspiring 
 scul of the Girondist party. 
 
 The friends of Roland urged, with high enco- 
 miums upon his character, that he should be 
 invited to retain his post. The sentiment of 
 the Assembly was wavering in his favor. Dan- 
 ton, excessively annoyed, arose and said, with a 
 sneer, " I oppose the invitation. Nobody ap- 
 preciates M. Roland more justly than myself, 
 But if you give him this invitation, you must 
 give his wife one also. Every one knows that 
 M. Roland is not alone in his department. As 
 for myself, in my department I am alone I 
 have no wife to help me." 
 
 These indecorous and malicious allusions 
 were received with shouts of derisive laughter 
 from the Jacobin benches. The majority, how- 
 ever, frowned upon Danton with deep reproach- 
 es for such an attack upon a lady. One of the 
 Girondists immediately ascended the tribune. 
 "What signifies it to the country," said he, 
 " whether Roland possesses an intelligent wife, 
 who inspires him with her additional energy, or 
 whether he acts from his own resolution alone ?" 
 The defense was received with much applause. 
 
 The next day, Roland, as Minister of the In-
 
 1792.] THI JACOBINS 175 
 
 Letter from M. Roland. Its lofty too*. 
 
 terior, presented a letter to the Convention, ex- 
 pressing his determination to continue in office. 
 It was written by Madame Roland in strains 
 of most glowing eloquence, and in the spirit of 
 the loftiest heroism and the most dignified de- 
 fiance. " The Convention is wise," said this 
 letter, " in not giving a solemn invitation to a 
 man to remain in the ministry. It would at- 
 tach too great importance to a name. But the 
 deliberation honors me, and clearly pronounces 
 the desire of the Convention. That wish sat- 
 isfies me. It opens to me the career. I es- 
 pouse it with courage. I remain in the minis- 
 try. I remain because there are perils to face. 
 I am not blind to them, but I brave them fear- 
 lessly. The salvation of my country is the ob- 
 ject in view. To that I devote myself, even to 
 death. I am accused of wanting courage. Is 
 no courage requisite in these times in denounc- 
 ing the protectors of assassins ?" 
 
 Thus Madame Roland, sheltered in the se- 
 olision of her library, met, in spirit, in the 
 fierce struggle of the tribune, Robespierre, Dan- 
 ton, and Marat. They knew from whose shafts 
 these keen arrows were shot. The Girondists 
 knew to whom they were indebted for many of 
 the most skillful parries and retaliatory blows.
 
 17ft MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 Dafiton eeekj a reconciliation. Hi* faftw, 
 
 The one party looked to her almost with ado- 
 ration ; the other, with implacable hate. Nev- 
 er before, probably, in the history of the world, 
 has a woman occupied such a position, and nev- 
 er by a woman will such a position be occupied 
 again. Danton began to recoil from the gulf 
 opening before him, and wished to return to al- 
 liance with the Girondists. He expressed the 
 most profound admiration for the talents, ener- 
 gy, and sagacity of Madame Roland. " We 
 must act together," said he, " or the wave of 
 the Revolution will overwhelm us all. United, 
 we can stem it. Disunited, it will overpower 
 u." Again he appeared in the library of Ma- 
 dame Roland, in a last interview with the Gi- 
 rondists. He desired a coalition. They could 
 not agree. Danton insisted that they must 
 overlook the massacres, and give at least an 
 implied t ent to their necessity. " We will 
 agree to all," said the Girondist ', " except im- 
 punity to murderers and their accomplices." 
 The conference was broken up. Danton, irri- 
 tated, withdrew* and placed himself by the side 
 of Robespierre. Again the Jacobins and the 
 Girondists prepared for the renewal of their 
 struggle. It was not a struggle for power 
 merely, but for life. The Girondists, knowing
 
 1792.] THE JACOBINS. 177 
 
 Plan* of the Jacobins. Fearlessness of Madaon Rolacd. 
 
 that the fury of the Revolution would soon 
 sweep over every thing, unless they could bring 
 back the people to a sense of justice would 
 punish with the scaffold those who had incited 
 the massacre of thousands of uncondemned cit- 
 izens. The Jacobins would rid themselves of 
 their adversaries by overwhelming them in the 
 same carnage to which they had consigned the 
 Loyalists. Madame Roland might have fled 
 from these perils, and have retired with her 
 husband to regions of tranquillity and of safety 
 out she urged M. Roland to remain at his post 
 and resolved to remain herself and meet her 
 destiny, whatever it might be. Never did a 
 mortal face danger, with a full appreciation of 
 its magnitude, with more stoicism than was ex- 
 hibited by this most ardent and enthusiastic of 
 women. 
 
 1812
 
 178 MADAME ROLAND. [17U2 
 
 Hie Jacobin* resoira to bring the king to trial. Famine In Parli 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 LAST STRUGGLES OF THE GIRONDISTS. 
 
 f I1HE Jacobins now resolved to bring the 
 -- king to trial. By placards posted in the 
 treets, by inflammatory speeches in the Con- 
 vention, in public gatherings, and in the clubs, 
 by false assertions and slanders of every con- 
 ceivable nature, they had roused the ignorant 
 populace to the full conviction that the king 
 was the author of every calamity now impend- 
 ing. The storm of the Revolution had swept 
 desolation through all the walks of peaceful in- 
 dustry. Starvation, gaunt and terrible, began 
 to stare the population of Paris directly in the 
 face. The infuriated mob hung the bakers 
 upon the lamp-posts before their own doors for 
 refusing to supply them with bread. The peas- 
 ant dared not carry provisions into the city, for 
 he was sure of being robbed by the sovereign 
 people, who had attained the freedom of com- 
 mitting all crimes with impunity. The multi- 
 tude fully believed that there was a conspiracy 
 formed by the king in his prison, and by th
 
 1792.1 THE GIRONDISTS. 179 
 
 Suiptcious against the Girondist*. Baseness of the Jacobin*. 
 
 friends of royalty, to starve the people into sub- 
 jection. Portentous murmurs were now also 
 borne on every breeze, uttered by a thousand 
 unseen voices, that the Girondists were accom- 
 plices in this conspiracy ; that they hated the 
 Revolution ; that they wished to save the life 
 of the king ; that they would welcome the army 
 of invasion, as affording them an opportunity to 
 reinstate Louis upon the throne. The Jaco- 
 bins, it was declared, were the only true friends 
 of the people. The Girondists were accused 
 of being in league with the aristocrats. These 
 suspicions rose and floated over Paris like the 
 mist of the ocean. They were every where en- 
 countered, and yet presented no resistance to be 
 assailed. They were intimated in the Jacobin 
 journals ; they were suggested, with daily in- 
 creasing distinctness, at the tribune. And in 
 those multitudinous gatherings, where Marat 
 stood in filth and rags to harangue the misera- 
 ble, and the vicious, and the starving, they were 
 proclaimed loudly, and with execrations. The 
 Jacobins rejoiced that they had now, by the 
 force of circumstances, crowded their adversa- 
 ries into a position from which they could not 
 easily extricate themselves. Should the Gi- 
 rondists vote for the death of the king, they
 
 180 MADAME ROLAND. [1798. 
 
 Peril of th OtrondUt*. Anxious deliberation* 
 
 would thus support the Jacobins in those san- 
 guinary measures, so popular with the mob, 
 which had now become the right arm of Jaco- 
 bin power. The glory would also all redound to 
 the Jacobins, for it would not be difficult to con- 
 vince the multitude that the Girondists merely 
 submitted to a measure which they were un- 
 able to resist. Should the Girondists, on the 
 other hand, true to their instinctive abhorrence 
 of these deeds of blood, dare to vote against the 
 death of the king, they would be ruined irre- 
 trievably. They would then stand unmasked 
 before the people as traitors to the Republic 
 and the friends of royalty. Like noxious beasts, 
 they would be hunted through the streets and 
 massacred at their own firesides. The Girond- 
 ists perceived distinctly the vortex of destruc- 
 tion toward which they were so rapidly circling. 
 Many and anxious were their deliberations, 
 night after night, in the library of Madame Ro- 
 land. In the midst of the fearful peril, it was 
 not easy to decide what either duty or apparent 
 policv required, 
 
 The Jacobins now made a direct and infa 
 mous attempt to turn the rage of the populace 
 against Madame Roland. Achille Viard, one 
 of those unprincipled adventurers with which
 
 1792.] THE GIRONDISTS. 181 
 
 VDe Intrigue of the Jacobin*. Madame Roland accrued. 
 
 the stormy times had filled he metropolis, was 
 employed, as a spy, to feign attachment to the 
 Girondist party, and to seek the acquaintance, 
 and insinuate himself into the confidence of Ma- 
 dame Roland. By perversions and exaggera- 
 tions of her language, he was to fabricate an 
 accusation against her which would bring her 
 head to the scaffold. Madame Roland instant- 
 ly penetrated his character, and he was repulsed 
 from her presence by the most contemptuous 
 neglect. He, however, appeared before the 
 Assembly as her accuser, and charged her with 
 carrying on a secret correspondence with per- 
 sons of influence at home and abroad, to protect 
 the king. She was summoned to present herself 
 before the Convention, to confront her accuser, 
 and defend herself from the scaffold. Her gen- 
 tle yet imperial spirit was undaunted by the 
 magnitude of the peril. Her name had often 
 been mentioned in the Assembly as the inspir- 
 ing genius of the most influential and eloquent 
 party which had risen up amid the storms of 
 the Revolution. Her talents, her accomplish- 
 ments, her fascinating conversational eloquence, 
 had spread her renown widely through Europe. 
 A large number of the most illustrious men in 
 that legislative hall, both ardent young men
 
 182 MADAMB ROLAND. [1782 
 
 llnduna Roiand before the Assembly. Her dignified demouxn 
 
 and those venerable with age, regarded her with 
 the most profound admiration almost with re- 
 ligious homage. Others, conscious of her pow- 
 er, and often foiled by her sagacity, hated hei 
 with implacable hatred, and determined, either 
 by the ax of the guillotine or by the poniard of 
 the assassin, to remove her from their way. 
 
 The aspect of a young and beautiful woman, 
 combining in her person and mind all the at- 
 tractions of nature and genius, with her cheek 
 glowing with heroic resolution, and her demean- 
 or exhibiting the most perfect feminine loveli- 
 ness and modesty, entering this vast assembly 
 of irritated men to speak in defense of her life, 
 at once hushed the clamor of hoarse voices, and 
 subdued the rage of angry disputants. Silence 
 the most respectful instantly filled the hall. 
 Every eye was fixed upon her. The hearts of 
 her friends throbbed with sympathy and with 
 love. Her enemies were more than half dis- 
 armed, and wished that they, also, were honor- 
 ed as her friends. She stood before the bar. 
 
 *' What is your name ?" inquired the pres- 
 ident. 
 
 She paused for a moment, and then, fixing 
 her eye calmly upon her interrogator, in those 
 olear and liquid tones which left their vibration
 
 179 ] THE GIRONDISTS. 183 
 
 Madame Reland's defenM of herself. She U acquitted by acclamation. 
 
 upon the ear long after her voice was hushed in 
 death, answered, 
 
 " Roland ! a name of which I am proud, for 
 Vt is that of a good and an honorable man." 
 
 " Do you know Achille Viard ?" the president 
 Inquired. 
 
 " I have once, and but once, seen him." 
 " What has passed between you ?" 
 " Twice he has written to me, soliciting an 
 interview. Once I saw him. After a short con- 
 versation, I perceived that he was a spy, and 
 dismissed him with the contempt he deserved." 
 The calm dignity of her replies, the ingenu- 
 ous frankness of her manners, and the manifest 
 malice and falsehood of Viard's accusation, 
 made even her enemies ashamed of their un- 
 ohivalrous prosecution. Briefly, in tremulous 
 tones of voice, but with a spirit of firmness which 
 no terrors could daunt, she entered upon her 
 defense. It was the first time that a female 
 voice had been heard in the midst of the clamor 
 of these enraged combatants. The Assembly, 
 unused to such a scene, were fascinated by hei 
 attractive eloquence. Viard, convicted of mean 
 noss, and treachery, and falsehood, dared not 
 open his lips. Madame Roland was acquitted 
 by acclamation. Upon the spot the president
 
 184 MADAME ROLAND. [1792 
 
 Madame Roland's triumph. Chagrin of her enemiaa 
 
 proposed that the marked respect of the Con- 
 vention be conferred upon Madame Roland. 
 With enthusiasm the resolution was carried. 
 As she retired from the hall, her bosom glow- 
 ing with the excitement of the perfect triumph 
 she had won, her ear was greeted with the en- 
 thusiastic applause of the whole assembly. The 
 eyes of all France had been attracted to her aa 
 she thus defended herself and her friends, and 
 confounded her enemies. Marat gnashed his 
 teeth with rage. Danton was gloomy and si- 
 lent. Robespierre, vanquished by charms which 
 had so often before enthralled him, expressed 
 nis contempt for the conspiracy, and, for the 
 last time, smiled upon his early friend, whom 
 he soon, with the most stoical indifference, 
 dragged to the scaffold. 
 
 The evening after the overthrow of the mon- 
 archy and the establishment of the Republic, 
 when there was still some faint hope that there 
 might yet be fount intelligence and virtue in 
 the people to sustain the Constitution, the Gi- 
 rondists met at Madame Roland's, and cele- 
 brated, with trembling exultation, the birth of 
 popular liberty. The Constitution of the Unit- 
 ed States was the beau ideal of the Girr ndisU, 
 and, vainly dreaming that the institutions which
 
 1792.] THE GIRONDISTS. 185 
 
 Festival of the Girondists Toast of Yergnirad. 
 
 Washington and his compatriots had establish- 
 ed in Christian America were now firmly plant- 
 ed in infidel France, they endeavored to cast the 
 veil of oblivion over. the past, and to spread over 
 the future the illusions of hope. The men here 
 assembled were the most illustrious of the na- 
 tion. Noble sentiments passed from mind to 
 mind. Madame Roland, pale with emotion, 
 conscious of the perils which were so porten- 
 tously rising around them, shone with a preter- 
 natural brilliance in the solemn rejoicing of that 
 evening. The aged Roland gazed with tears 
 of fond affection and of gratified pride upon his 
 lovely wife, as if in spirit asking her if all the 
 loftiest aspirations of their souls were not now 
 answered. The victorious Republicans hardly 
 knew whether to sing triumphant songs or fu- 
 neral dirges. Vergniaud, the renowned orator 
 of the party, was prominent above them all. 
 With a pale cheek, and a serene and pensive 
 Bmile, he sat in silence, his mind evidently wan- 
 dering among the rising apparitions of the fu- 
 ture. At the close of the supper he filled his 
 glass, and rising, proposed to drink to the eter- 
 nity of the Republic. Madame Roland, whose 
 mind wap ever filled with classic recollections, 
 oattered from a bouquet which she held in bar
 
 186 MADAMK ROLAND. [179k 
 
 CUwteal aflMion. CUmora for tko kim('i death 
 
 hand, some rose leaves on the wine in his glass. 
 Vergniaud drank the wine, and then said, hi a 
 low voice, " We should quaff cypreos leaves, 
 not rose leaves, in our wine to-night. In drink 
 ing to a republic, stained, at its birth, with the 
 blood of massacre, who knows but that we drink 
 to our own death. But no matter. Were this 
 wine my own blood, I would drain it to liberty 
 and equality." All the guests, with enthusi- 
 asm, responded, " Vive la Republique /" After 
 dinner, Roland read to the company a paper 
 drawn up by himself and wife in reference to 
 the state of the Republic, which views were to 
 be presented the next day to the Convention. 
 
 The royal family were still in the dungeons of 
 the Temple, lingering through the dreary hours 
 of the most desolate imprisonment. Phrensied 
 mobs, rioting through the streets of Paris, and 
 overawing all law, demanded, with loudest ex- 
 ecrations, the death of the king. A man hav- 
 ing ventured to say that he thought that the 
 Republic might be established without shedding 
 the blood of Louis, was immediately stabbed to 
 the heart, and his mutilated remains were drag- 
 ged through the streets of Paris hi fiendish rev- 
 elry. A poor vender of pamphlets and newspa- 
 pers, coming out of a reading-room, was accused
 
 1793.J THE GIRONDISTS. 187 
 
 Tbe king brought before the Con rentlon. Dlamal day 
 
 of selling books favorable to royalty. The sus- 
 picion was crime, and he fell, pierced by thirty 
 daggers. Such warnings as these were signif- 
 icant and impressive, and few dared utter a 
 word in favor of the king. 
 
 It was the month of January, 1793, when 
 the imprisoned monarch was brought into the 
 hall of the Convention for his trial. It was a 
 gloomy day for France, and all external na- 
 ture seemed shrouded in darkness and sorrow. 
 Clouds of mist were sweeping through the chill 
 air, and a few feeble lamps glimmered along the 
 narrow avenues and gloomy passages, which 
 were darkened by the approach of a winter's 
 night. Armed soldiers surrounded the build- 
 ing. Heavy pieces of artillery faced every 
 approach. Cannoneers, with lighted matches, 
 stood at their side, ready to scatter a storm of 
 grape-shot upon every foe. A mob of countless 
 thousands were surging to and fro through all 
 the neighboring streets. The deep, dull mur- 
 mnrings of the multitude swelled in unison with 
 the sighings of the storm rising upon the som- 
 ber night. It was with no little difficulty that 
 the deputies could force their way through the 
 ocean of human beings surrounding the Assem- 
 bly. The coarse garb, the angry features, th
 
 188 MADAME ROLAND. [1793. 
 
 Menace* of the mob. Dutoa, Marat, and RobMpterr* 
 
 harsh voices, the fierce and significant gestures, 
 proclaimed too clearly that the mob had determ- 
 ined to have the life of the king, and that, mi- 
 less the deputies should vote his death, both 
 king and deputies should perish together. As 
 each deputy threaded his way through the 
 thronging masses, he heard, in threatening 
 tones, muttered into his ear deep and emphat- 
 ic, " His death or thine !" 
 
 Persons who were familiar with the faces of 
 all the members were stationed at particular 
 points, and called out aloud to the multitude the 
 names of the deputies as they elbowed their way 
 through the surging multitudes. At the names 
 of Danton, Marat, Robespierre, the ranks opened 
 to make way for these idols of the populace, and 
 shouts of the most enthusiastic greeting fell 
 upon their ears. When the names of Verg- 
 niaud, Brissot, and others of the leading Gi- 
 rondists were mentioned, clinched fists, brand- 
 ished daggers, and angry menaces declared that 
 those who refused to obey the wishes of the peo- 
 ple should encounter dire revenge. The very 
 sentinels placed to guard the deputies encour- 
 aged the mob to insult and violence. The lob- 
 bies were filled with the most sanguinary ruf- 
 fian* of Paris. The interior of the hall wat
 
 1793.] THE GIRONDISTS 189 
 
 Trial of tha king. Proportion of Bobetptom 
 
 dimly lighted. A chandelier, suspended from 
 the center of the ceiling, illuminated certain 
 portions of the room, while the more distant 
 parts remained in deep obscurity. That all 
 might act under the full sense of their respons- 
 ibility to the mob, Robespierre had proposed 
 and carried the vote that the silent form of bal- 
 lot should be rejected, and that each deputy, in 
 his turn, should ascend the tribune, and, with 
 a distinct voice, announce his sentence. For 
 some time after the voting commenced it was 
 quite uncertain how the decision would turn. 
 In the alternate record of the vote, death and 
 exile appeared to be equally balanced. All now 
 depended upon the course which the Girondists 
 should pursue. If they should vote for death, 
 the doom of the king was sealed. Vergniaud 
 was the first of that party to be called to record 
 his sentence. It was well known that he look- 
 ed with repugnance and horror upon the san- 
 guinary scenes with which the Revolution had 
 been deformed, and that he had often avowed 
 his sympathy for the hard fate of a prince whose 
 greatest crime was weakness. His vote would 
 unquestionably be the index of that of the whole 
 party, and thus the life or death of the king ap- 
 peared to be suspended from his lips. It \rae
 
 L90 MADAMK ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Vote of VergnUmd. Vote of the GirondUu 
 
 known that the very evening before, while sup- 
 ping with a lady who expressed much commis- 
 eration for the captives in the Temple, ho had 
 declared that he would save the life of the king. 
 The courage of Vergniaud was above suspicion, 
 and his integrity above reproach. Difficult aa 
 it was to judge impartially, with the cannon and 
 the pikes of the mob leveled at his breast, it was 
 not doubted that he would vote conscientiously. 
 
 As the name of Vergniaud was called, all con- 
 versation instantly ceased. Perfect silence per- 
 vaded the hall, and every eye was riveted upon 
 him. Slowly he ascended the steps of the trib- 
 une. His brow was calm, but his mouth close- 
 ly compressed, as if to sustain some firm resolve. 
 He paused for a moment, and the Assembly was 
 breathless with suspense. He contracted his 
 eyebrows, as if again reflecting upon his deci- 
 sion, and then, in a low, solemn, firm voice, ut- 
 tered the word " Death." 
 
 The most profound silence reigned for a mo 
 ment, and then again the low murmur of sup- 
 pressed conversation filled the hall. Vergniaud 
 descended from the tribune and disappeared in 
 the crowd. All hope for the king was now gone. 
 The rest of the Girondists also voted for death, 
 and Louis was condemned to the scaffold.
 
 1793.] THE GIRONDISTS. 19] 
 
 Indignation at the king's death. The Revolutionary Tribon&l 
 
 This united vote upon the death of the king 
 for a short time mingled together again the Gi- 
 rondists and the Jacobins. But the dominant 
 party, elated by the victory which they had 
 gained over their adversaries, were encouraged 
 to fresh extortions. Perils increased. Europe 
 was rising in arms against the blood-stained 
 Republic. The execution of the king aroused 
 emotions of .unconquerable detestation in the 
 bosoms of thousands who had previously looked 
 upon the Revolution with favor. Those who 
 had any opulence to forfeit, or any position in 
 society to maintain, were ready to welcome as 
 deliverers the allied army of invasion. It was 
 then, to meet this emergency, that that terrible 
 Revolutionary Tribunal was organized, which 
 raised the ax of the guillotine as the one all-po- 
 tent instrument of government, and which shed 
 such oceans of innocent blood. " Two hundred 
 and sixty thousand heads," said Marat, " must 
 fall before France will be safe from internal 
 foes." Danton, Marat, and Robespierre were 
 now in the ascendency, riding with resistless 
 power upon the billows of mob violence. When- 
 ever they wished to carry any measure, they 
 sent forth their agents to the dens and lurking- 
 places of degradation and crime, and surround'
 
 1U2 MADAMB ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Unlimited powers of the Rarolutionary Tribunal Atrooion* emeltW* 
 
 ed and filled the hall of the Assembly with blood- 
 thirsty assassins. " Those who call themselves 
 respectable" said Marat, " wish to give laws 
 to those whom they call the rabble. We will 
 teach them that the time is come in which the 
 rabble is to reign." 
 
 This Revolutionary Tribunal, consisting of 
 five judges, a jury, and a public accuser, all ap- 
 pointed by the Convention, was proposed and 
 decreed on the same evening. It possessed un- 
 limited powers to confiscate property and take 
 life. The Girondists dared not vote against 
 this tribunal. The public voice would pro- 
 nounce them the worst of traitors. France was 
 now a charnel-house. Blood flowed in streams 
 which were never dry. Innocence had no pro- 
 tection. Virtue was suspicion, suspicion a 
 crime, the guillotine the penalty, and the con- 
 fiscated estate the bribe to accusation. Thus 
 there was erected, in the name of liberty and 
 popular rights, over the rains of the French 
 monarchy, a system of despotism the most atro- 
 cious and merciless under which humanity haa 
 ever groaned. 
 
 Again and again had the Jacobins called the 
 mob into the Assembly, and compelled the mem- 
 bore to vote with the poniards of assassint ftl
 
 i?y3.J THE GIRONDISTS. 193 
 
 Embarrassments of M. Holand. He sends in his resignation, 
 
 their breasts. Madame Roland now despaired 
 of liberty. Calumny, instead of gratitude, was 
 unsparingly heaped upon herself and her hus- 
 band. This requital, so unexpected, was more 
 dreadful to her than the scaffold. All the prom- 
 ised fruits of the Revolution had disappeared, 
 and desolation and crime alone were realized. 
 The Girondists still met hi Madame Roland's 
 library to deliberate concerning measures for 
 averting the impending ruin. All was una- 
 vailing. 
 
 The most distressing embarrassments now 
 surrounded M. Roland. He could not abandon 
 power without abandoning himself and his sup- 
 porters in the Assembly to the guillotine ; and 
 while continuing hi power, he was compelled to 
 witness deeds of atrocity from which not only 
 his soul revolted, but to which it was necessary 
 for him apparently to give his sanction. His 
 cheek grew pale and wan with care. He could 
 neither eat nor sleep. The Republic had proved 
 an utter failure, and France was but a tem 
 pest-tossed ocean of anarchy. 
 
 Thus situated, M. Roland, with the most 
 melancholy forebodings, sent in his final resig- 
 nation. He retired to humble 'odgings in one 
 eftho obscure streets of Paris Here, anxious- 
 1813
 
 194 MADAME ROLANO. [1793 
 
 Attempts to assassinate the Roland*. Entreaties of friend* 
 
 ly watohing the progress of events, he began to 
 make preparations to leave the mob-enthralled 
 metopolis, and seek a retreat, in the calm se- 
 clusion of La Platiere, from these storms which 
 no human power could allay. Still, the influ 
 ence of Roland and his wife was feared by those 
 who were directing the terrible enginery of law- 
 less violence. It was well known by them both 
 that assassins had been employed to silence 
 them with the poniard. Madame Roland seem- 
 ed, however, perfectly insensible to personal 
 fear. She thought only of her husband and v *r 
 child. Desperate men were seen lurking about 
 the house, and their friends urged them to re- 
 move as speedily as possible from the perils by 
 which they were surrounded. Neither the sa- 
 credness of law nor the weapons of their friends 
 could longer afford them any protection. The 
 danger became so imminent that the friends of 
 Madame Roland brought her the dress of a 
 peasant girl, and entreated her to put it on, as 
 a disguise, and escape by night, that her hus- 
 band might follow after her, unencumbered by 
 ius family ; but she proudly repelled that which 
 she deemed a cowardly artifice. She threw the 
 dress aside, exclaiming, " I am ashamed to re- 
 sort to any such expedient. I will neither dia-
 
 1793.] THE GIRONDISTS. 195 
 
 FtrmneM of Madame Roland. Roland'* influence In the department*. 
 
 guise myself, nor make any attempt at secret 
 escape. My enemies may find me always in 
 my place. If I am assassinated, it shall be in 
 my own home. I owe my country an example 
 of firmness, and I will give it." 
 
 She, however, was so fully aware of her peril, 
 and each night was burdened with such atroci- 
 ties, that she placed loaded pistols under her 
 pillow, to defend herself from those outrages, 
 worse than death, of which the Revolution af- 
 forded so many examples. While the influence 
 of the Girondists was entirely overborne by the 
 clamors of the mob in Paris, in the more virtu- 
 ous rural districts, far removed from the corrup- 
 tion of the capital, their influence was on the in- 
 crease. The name of M. Roland, uttered with 
 execrations in the metropolis by the vagabonds 
 swarming from all parts of Europe, was spoken 
 in tones of veneration in the departments, where 
 husbandmen tilled the soil, and loved the reign 
 of law and peace. Hence the Jacobins had se- 
 rious cause to fear a reaction, and determined 
 to silence their voices by the slide of the guil- 
 lotine. The most desperate measures were now 
 adopted for the destruction of the Girondists. 
 One conspiracy was formed to collect the moo, 
 ever ready to obey a signal from Marat, around
 
 196 MADAME ROLAND [1793. 
 
 Plot* against the GlrondUtt. Insurrections in favor of the monarchy 
 
 the Assembly, to incite them to burst in at the 
 doors and the windows, and fill the hall with 
 confusion, while picked men were to poniard 
 the Girondists in their seats. The conspiracy 
 was detected and exposed but a few hours be- 
 fore its appointed execution. The Jacobin lead- 
 ers, protected by their savage allies, were rais- 
 ed above the power of law, and set all punish- 
 ment at defiance. 
 
 A night was again designated, in which bands 
 of armed men were to surround the dwelling 
 of each Girondist, and assassinate these foes of 
 Jacobin domination in their beds. This plot 
 also was revealed to the Girondists but a few 
 hours before its destined catastrophe, and it was 
 with the utmost difficulty that the doomed vic- 
 tims obtained extrication from the toils which 
 had been wound around them. Disastrous 
 news was now daily arriving from the frontiers. 
 The most alarming tidings came of insurrec- 
 tions in La Vendee, and other important por- 
 tions of France, in favor of the restoration of 
 the monarchy. These gathering perils threw 
 terror into the hearts of the Jacobins, and rous- 
 ed them to deeds of desperation. Though Ma- 
 dame Roland was now in comparative obsour- 
 fty, night after night the most illustrious men
 
 1793.J THE GIRONDISTS. 197 
 
 Meeting! at Madame Roland's. Jacobin insurrection. 
 
 of France, battling for liberty and for life in 
 the Convention, ascended the dark staircase to 
 her secluded room, hidden in the depth of a 
 oourt o* the Rue de la Harpe, and there talked 
 over tne scenes of the day, and deliberated re- 
 specting the morrow. 
 
 The Jacobins now planned one of those hor- 
 rible insurrections which sent a thrill of terror 
 into every bosom in Paris. Assembling the 
 multitudinous throng of demoniac men and 
 women which the troubled times had collected 
 from every portion of Christendom, they gath- 
 ered them around the hall of the Assembly to 
 enforce their demands. It was three o'clock in 
 the morning of the 31st of May, 1793, when 
 the dismal sounds of the alarm bells, spreading 
 from belfry to belfry, and the deep booming of 
 the insurrection gun, reverberating through the 
 streets, aroused the citizens from their slum 
 bers, producing universal excitement and con- 
 sternation. A cold and freezing wind swept 
 clouds of mist through the gloomy air, and the 
 moaning storm seemed the appropriate requiem 
 of a sorrow-stricken world. The Hotel de Ville 
 was the appointed place of rendezvous for the 
 swarming multitudes. The affrighted citizens, 
 knowing but too well to what scenes of violeno*
 
 198 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 rorfeentonf mattering*. Precaution* of the Olrondictfc 
 
 and blood these demonstrations were the pre- 
 cursors, threw up their windows, and looked out 
 with fainting hearts upon the dusky forms 
 crowding by like apparitions of darkness. The 
 rumbling of the wheels of heavy artillery, the 
 flash of powder, with the frequent report of fire- 
 arms, and the uproar and the clamor of count- 
 less voices, were fearful omens of a day to dawn 
 in blacker darkness than the night. The Gi- 
 rondists had recently been called in the journals 
 and inflammatory speeches of their adversaries 
 the Rolandists. The name was given them in 
 recognition of the prominent position of Ma- 
 dame Roland in the party, and with the e 
 deavor to cast reproach upon her and her hus- 
 band. Through all the portentous mutterings 
 of this rising storm could be heard deep and 
 significant execrations and menaces, coupled 
 with the names of leading members of the Gi- 
 rondist party. "Down with the aristocrats, 
 the traitors, the Rolandists !" shouted inces- 
 santly hoarse voices and shrill voices, of drunk- 
 en men, of reckless boys, of fiendish women 
 
 The Girondists, apprehensive of some move- 
 ment of this kind, had generally taken the pre- 
 caution not to sleep that night in their own 
 dwellings. The intrepid Vergniaud alone re-
 
 1793.] THE GIRONDISTS. JLiJ9 
 
 Intrepidity of Vergnlaud. Power of prajrer 
 
 fused to adopt any measure of safety. " What 
 signifies life to me now ?" said he ; " my blood 
 may be more eloquent than my words in awak- 
 ening and saving my country. I am ready for 
 the sacrifice." One of the Girondists, M. Ra- 
 bout, a man of deep, reflective piety, hearing 
 these noises, rose from his bed, listened a mo- 
 ment at his window to the tumult swelling up 
 from every street of the vast metropolis, and 
 calmly exclaiming, " Ilia suprema dies," it is 
 our last day, prostrated himself at the foot of 
 his bed, and invoked aloud the Divine protec- 
 tion upon his companions, his country, and 
 himself. Many of his friends were with him, 
 friends who knew not the power of prayer. But 
 there are hours in which every soul instinctive- 
 ly craves the mercy of its Creator. They all 
 oowed reverently, and were profoundly affected 
 by the supplications of their Christian friend. 
 Fortified and tranquilized by the potency of 
 prayer, and determining to die, if die they must, 
 at the post of duty, at six o'clock they descend- 
 ed into the street, with pistols and daggers con- 
 cealed beneath their clothes. They succeeded, 
 unrecognized, in reaching the Convention in 
 afety. 
 
 One or two of the Jacobin party were assem-
 
 200 MADAME ROLAND. [17931 
 
 * Horrible hope." The power of the Girondists gone 
 
 bled there at that early hour, and Danton, pale 
 with the excitement of a sleepless night, walk- 
 ing to and fro in nervous agitation, greeted his 
 old friends with a wan and melancholy smile. 
 " Do you see," said Louvet to Gaudet, " what 
 horrible hope shines upon that hideous face?" 
 The members rapidly collected. The hall wai 
 soon filled. The Girondists were now helpless, 
 their sinews of power were cut, and the strug- 
 gle was virtually over. All that remained for 
 them was to meet their fate heroically and with 
 an unvanquished spirit.
 
 1793.] ARREST OF MADAME ROLAND. 20) 
 
 Tin Oonrention, the mob, the Jacobins. Robespierre, Danton, Marat 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 ARREST OF MADAME ROLAND. 
 
 FRANCE was now governed by the Con- 
 vention. The Convention was governed by 
 the mob of Paris. The Jacobins were the head 
 of this mob. They roused its rage, and guided 
 its fury, when and where they listed. The 
 friendship of the mob was secured and retained 
 by ever pandering to their passions. The Jac- 
 obins claimed to be exclusively the friends of 
 the people, and advocated all those measures 
 which tended to crush the elevated and flatter 
 the degraded. Robespierre, Danton, Marat, 
 were now the idols of the populace. 
 
 On the morning of the 30th of May, 1793, 
 the streets of Paris were darkened with a dis- 
 mal storm of low, scudding clouds, and chilling 
 winds, and sleet and rain. Pools of water stood 
 in the miry streets, and every aspect of nature 
 was cheerless and desolate. But there was an- 
 other storm raging in those streets, more terri- 
 ble than any elemental warfare. In locust le- 
 gions, the deformed, the haggard, the brutalized
 
 202 MADAME ROLAND. [179 
 
 Aspect of the mob. The Jacoblni' i word of justice 
 
 in form, in features, in mind, in heart demo- 
 niao men, satanio women, boys burly, sensual, 
 blood-thirsty, like imps of darkness rioted along 
 toward the Convention, an interminable multi- 
 tude whom no one could count. Their hideous 
 bowlings thrilled upon the ear, and sent panio 
 to the heart. There was no power to resist 
 them. There was no protection from their vio- 
 lence. And thousands wished that they might 
 call up even the most despotic king who ever 
 sat upon the throne of France, from his grave, 
 to drive back that most terrible of all earthly 
 despotisms, the despotism of a mob. This was 
 the power with which the Jacobins backed their 
 arguments. This was the gory blade which 
 they waved before their adversaries, and called 
 the sword of justice. 
 
 The Assembly consisted of about eight hund- 
 red members. There were twenty-two illus- 
 trious men who were considered the leaders of 
 the Girondist party. The Jacobins had resolv- 
 ed that they should be accused of treason, ar- 
 rested, and condemned. The Convention had 
 refused to submit to the arbitrary and bloody 
 demand. The mob were now assembled to co- 
 erce submission. The melancholy tocsin, and 
 the thunders of the alarm gun, resounded
 
 1793.] ARREST OF MADAME ROLAND. 208 
 
 The CoBTention invaded. Triumph of the mob 
 
 through the air, as the countless throng came 
 pouring along like ocean billows, with a resist- 
 lessness which no power could stay. They sur- 
 rounded the Assembly on every side, forced 
 their way into the hall, filled every vacant 
 space, clambered upon the benches, crowded the 
 speaker hi his chair, brandished their daggers, 
 and mingled their oaths and imprecations with 
 the fierce debate Even the Jacobins were ter- 
 rified by the frightful spirits whom they had 
 evoked. " Down with the Girondists !" " Death 
 to the traitors!" the assassins shouted. The 
 clamor of the mob silenced the Girondists, and 
 they hardly made an attempt to speak in their 
 defense. They sat upon their benches, pale 
 with the emotions which the fearful scenes ex- 
 cited, yet firm and unwavering. As Couthon 
 a Jacobin orator, was uttering deep denuncia- 
 tions, he became breathless with the vehemence 
 of his passionate speech. He turned to a wait- 
 er for a glass of water. " Take to Couthon a 
 glass of blood," said Vergniaud ; " he is thirst* 
 ing for it." 
 
 The decree of accusation was proposed, and 
 carried, without debate, beneath the poniards 
 of uncounted thousands of assassins. The mob 
 was triumphant. By acclamation it was then
 
 204 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Fraternizing with the mob. Parti flhuninated 
 
 Toted that all Paris should be joyfully illuminat- 
 ed, hi celebration of the triumph of the people 
 over those who would arrest the onward career 
 of the Revolution ; and every citizen of Paris 
 well knew the doom which awaited him if brill- 
 iant lights were not burning at his windows. 
 It was then voted, and with enthusiasm, that 
 the Convention should go out and fraternize 
 with the multitude. Who would have the te- 
 merity, in such an hour, to oppose the affection- 
 ate demonstration? The degraded Assembly 
 obeyed the mandate of the mob, and marched 
 into the streets, where they were hugged in the 
 unclean arms and pressed to the foul bosoms of 
 beggary, and infamy, and pollution. Louis was 
 avenged. The hours of the day had now pass- 
 ed ; night had come ; but it was noonday light 
 in the brilliantly-illuminated streets of the me- 
 tropolis. The Convention, surrounded by torch- 
 bearers, and an innumerable concourse of drunk- 
 en men and women, rioting in hideous orgies, 
 traversed, in compulsory procession, the princi- 
 pal streets of ttye city. The Girondists were 
 led as captives to grace the triumph. " Which 
 do you prefer," said a Jacobin to Vergniaud, 
 " this ovation or the scaffold ?" " It is all the 
 ame to me," replied Vergniaud, with stoical in-
 
 1793.] ARREST OF MADAME ROLAND. 205 
 
 Arrest of the Girondists. 8upeaj of the Roland*. 
 
 difference. " There is no choice between this 
 walk and the guillotine. It conducts us to it." 
 The twenty-two Girondists were arrested and 
 committed to prison. 
 
 During this dreadful day, while these scenes 
 were pasting in the Assembly, Madame Roland 
 and her husband were in their solitary room, op- 
 pressed with the most painful suspense. The 
 cry and the uproar of the insurgent city, the 
 tolling of bells and thundering of cannon, were 
 borne upon the wailings of the gloomy storm, 
 and sent consternation even to the stoutest 
 hearts. There was now no room for escape, for 
 the barriers were closed and carefully watched. 
 Madame Roland knew perfectly well that if her 
 friends fell she must fall with them. She had 
 shared their principles ; she had guided their 
 measures, and she wished to participate in their 
 doom. It was this honorable feeling which led 
 her to refuse to provide for her own safety, and 
 which induced her to abide, in the midst of ever 
 increasing danger, with her associates. No per- 
 son obnoxious to suspicion could enter the street 
 without fearful peril, though, through the lin- 
 gering hours of the day, friends brought them 
 tidings of the current of events. Nothing re- 
 mained to be done but to await, as patiently
 
 MADAMB ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Arrwt of M. Roland. Prompt action of Madame Roland 
 
 as possible, the blow that was inevitably to 
 fall 
 
 The twilight was darkening into night, when 
 six armed men ascended the stairs and burst 
 into Roland's apartment. The philosopher look* 
 ed calmly upon them as, in the name of the Con- 
 vention, they informed him of his arrest. "I 
 do not recognize the authority of your warrant," 
 said M. Roland, " and shall not voluntarily fol- 
 low you. I can only oppose the resistance of 
 my gray hairs, but I will protest against it with 
 my last breath." 
 
 The leader of the party replied, " I have no 
 orders to use violence. I will go and report 
 your answer to the council, leaving, in the mean 
 time, a guard to secure your person." 
 
 This was an hour to rouse all the energy and 
 heroic resolution of Madame Roland. She im- 
 mediately sat down, and, with that rapidity of 
 action which her highly -disciplined mind had 
 attained, wrote, in a few moments, a letter to 
 the Convention. Leaving a friend who was in 
 the house with hpr husband, she ordered a hack- 
 ney coach, and drove as fast as possible to the 
 Tuileries, where the Assembly was in session. 
 The garden of the Tuileriea was filled with the 
 tumultuary concourse. She forced her way
 
 1793.] ARREST OF MADAME ROLAND. 207 
 
 Madame Roland In the petitioners' halL Uproar In the AMembly 
 
 through the crowd till she arrived at the doori 
 of the outer halls. Sentinels were stationed at 
 all the passages, who would not allow her to 
 enter. 
 
 " Citizens," said she, at last adroitly adopting 
 the vernacular of the Jacobins, " in this day of 
 salvation for our country, in the midst of those 
 traitors who threaten us, you know not the im- 
 portance of some notes which I have to trans- 
 mit to the president." 
 
 These words were a talisman. The doors 
 were thrown open, and she entered the petition- 
 ers' hall. " I wish to see one of the messengers 
 of the House," she said to one of the inner senti- 
 nels. 
 
 " Wait till one comes out," was the gruff 
 reply. 
 
 She waited for a quarter of an hour in burn- 
 ing impatience. Her ear was almost stunned 
 with the deafening clamor of debate, of applause, 
 of execrations, which now in dying murmurs, 
 and again in thundering reverberations, awak- 
 ening responsive echoes along the thronged 
 streets, swelled upon the night air. Of all hu- 
 man sounds, the uproa* of a countless multi 
 tnde of maddened human voices is the most 
 awful
 
 208 MADAME ROLAWD. [1783 
 
 Madame Roland's letter. 
 
 At last she caught a glimpse of the messen- 
 ger who had summoned her to appear before 
 the bar of the Assembly in reply to the accu- 
 sations of Viard, informed him of their peril, 
 and implored him to hand her letter to the pres- 
 ident. The messenger, M. Roze, took the pa- 
 per, and, elbowing his way through the throng, 
 disappeared. An hour elapsed, which seemed 
 an age. The tumult within continued unabated 
 At length M. Roze reappeared. 
 
 "Well!" said Madame Roland, eagerly, 
 " what has been done with my letter ?" 
 
 " I have given it to the president," was the 
 reply, " but nothing has been done with it as 
 yet. Indescribable confusion prevails. The 
 mob demand the accusation of the Girondists. 
 I have just assisted one to escape by a private 
 way. Others are endeavoring, concealed by the 
 tumult, to effect their escape. There is no 
 knowing what is to happen." 
 
 " Alas !" Madame Roland replied, " my let- 
 ter will not be read. Do send some deputy to 
 me, with whom, I can speak a few words." 
 
 "Whom shall I send?" 
 
 " Indeed I have but little acquaintance with 
 any, and but little esteem for any, except those 
 who are proscribed. Tell Vergniaud that I am 
 Inq for bJiife"
 
 1793.] ARREST OF MADAME ROLAND. 
 
 Intenriew with Vergnlaud. Hope 
 
 Vergniaud, notwithstanding the terrific agi- 
 tations of the hour, immediately attended the 
 summons of Madame Roland. She implored 
 him to try to get her admission to the bar, that 
 she might speak in defense of her husband and 
 her friends. 
 
 "In the present state of the Assembly," said 
 Vergniaud, " it would be impossible, and if pos- 
 sible, of no avail. The Convention has lost all 
 power. It has become but the weapon of the 
 rabble. Your words can do no good." 
 
 " They may do much good," replied Madame 
 Roland. " I can venture to say that which you 
 could not say without exposing yourself to ac- 
 cusation. I fear nothing. If I can not save 
 Roland, I will utter with energy truths which 
 may be useful to the Republic. An example 
 of courage may shame the nation." 
 
 " Think how unavailing the attempt," re- 
 plied Vergniaud. " Your letter can not possi- 
 bly be read for two or three hours. A crowd 
 of petitioners throng the bar. Noise, and con- 
 fusion, and violence fill the House." 
 
 Madame Roland paused for a moment, and 
 replied, " I must then hasten home, and ascer- 
 tain what has become of my husband. I wilJ 
 immediately return. Tell our friends so." 
 
 1814
 
 210 MADAME ROLAND, (1793 
 
 Etcape of 1L Roland. BOOM at the TuilerlM. 
 
 Vergniaud sadly pressed her hand, as if for a 
 last farewell, and returned, invigorated by her 
 courage, to encounter the storm which was hail- 
 ed upon him in the Assembly. She hastened 
 to her dwelling, and found that her husband 
 had succeeded in eluding the surveillance of his 
 guards, and, escaping by a back passage, had 
 taken refuge in the house of a friend. After a 
 short search she found him in his asylum, and, 
 too deeply moved to weep, threw herself into 
 his arms, informed him of what she had done, 
 rejoiced at his safety, and heroically returned 
 to the Convention, resolved, if possible, to ob- 
 tain admission there. It was now near mid- 
 night The streets were brilliant with illumi- 
 nations; but Madame Roland knew not of 
 which party these illuminations celebrated the 
 triumph. 
 
 On her arrival at the court of the Tuileries, 
 which had so recently been thronged by a mob 
 of forty thousand men, she found it silent and 
 deserted. The sitting was ended. The mem- 
 bers, accompanied by the populace with whom 
 they had frater nixed, were traversing the streets. 
 A few sentinel* stood shivering in the cold and 
 drizzling rain around the doors of the national 
 palace. A group of rough -look ing men
 
 1793.] ARREST OF MADAMK ROLAND. 211 
 
 fha deputies embraced by th mob. Aneodota 
 
 gathered before a oannon. Madame Roland ap- 
 proached them. 
 
 " Citizens," inquired she, " has every thing 
 gone well to-night ?" 
 
 " Oh ! wonderfully well," was the reply. 
 " The deputies and the people embraced, and 
 sung the Marseilles Hymn, there, under the tree 
 of liberty." 
 
 " And what has become of the twenty-two 
 Girondists ?" 
 
 " They are all to be arrested." 
 
 Madame Roland was almost stunned by the 
 61ow. Hastily crossing the court, she arrived 
 at her hackney-coach. A very pretty dog, which 
 nad lost its master, followed her. " Is the poor 
 little creature yours ?" inquired the coachman. 
 The tones of kindness with which he spoke call- 
 ed up the first tears which had moistened the 
 eyes of Madame Roland that eventful night. 
 
 " I should like him for my little boy," said 
 the coachman. 
 
 Madame Roland, gratified to have, at such 
 an hour, for a driver, a father and a man of 
 feeling, said, " Put him into the coach, and 1 
 will take care of him for you. Drive immedi- 
 ately to the galleries of the Louvre." Madame 
 Roland caressed the affectionate animal, and,
 
 212 MADAMB ROLAND. (1793 
 
 iladama Roland return* home. A mother 1 tear* 
 
 weary of the passions of man, longed for retire- 
 ment from the world, and to seclude herself 
 with those animals who would repay kindness 
 with gratitude. She sank back in her seat, ex- 
 claiming, " O that we could escape from France, 
 and find a home in the law-governed republic 
 of America." 
 
 Alighting at the Louvre, she called upon a 
 friend, with whom she wished to consult upon 
 the means of effecting M. Roland's escape from 
 the city. He had just gone to bed, but arose, 
 conversed about various plans, and made an ap- 
 pointment to meet her at seven o'clock the next 
 morning. Entirely unmindful of herself, she 
 thought only of the rescue of her friends. Ex- 
 hausted with excitement and toil, she returned 
 to her desolated home, bent over the sleeping 
 form of her child, and gave vent to a mother's 
 gushing love in a flood of tears. Recovering 
 her fortitude, she sat down and wrote to M. Ro- 
 land a minute account of all her proceedings. It 
 would have periled his safety had she attempt- 
 ed to share his asylum. The gray of a dull and 
 somber morning was just beginning to appear 
 as Madame Roland threw herself upon a bed 
 for a few moments of repose. Overwhelmed 
 by sorrow and fatigue, she had just fallen asleep,
 
 1793.] ARREST OF MADAME KOLAXD. 213 
 
 irrest of Madame Roland. Her eomporara 
 
 when a band of armed men rudely broke into 
 her house, and demanded to be conducted to 
 her apartment. She knew too well the object 
 of the summons. The order for her arrest was 
 presented her. She calmly read it, and re- 
 quested permission to write to a friend. The 
 request was granted. When the note was fin- 
 ished, the officer informed her that it would be 
 necessary for him to be made acquainted with 
 its contents. She quietly tore it into frag- 
 ments, and cast it into the fire. Then, imprint- 
 ing her last kiss upon the cheek of her uncon- 
 scious child, with the composure which such a 
 catastrophe would naturally produce in so he- 
 roic a mind, she left her home for the prison. 
 Blood had been flowing too freely in Paris, the 
 guillotine had been too active in its operations, 
 *br Madame Roland to entertain any doubts 
 whither the path she now trod was tending. 
 
 It was early in the morning of a bleak and 
 dismal day as Madame Roland accompanied 
 the officers through the hall of her dwelling, 
 where she had been the object of such enthusi- 
 astic admiration and affection. The servants 
 gathered around her, and filled the house with 
 their lamentations. Even the hardened so) 
 diers were moved bv the scone, and one of them
 
 S14 MADAME ROLAND. [1793. 
 
 brate of the mob. ConTerMtlon wtth officer*. 
 
 exclaimed, "How much you are beloved!" 
 Madame Roland, who alone was tranquil in this 
 hour of trial, calmly replied, "Because I love. n 
 As she was led from the house by the gens 
 d'armes, a vast crowd collected around the door, 
 who, believing her to be a traitor to her coun- 
 try, and in league with their enemies, shouted, 
 "A la guillotine!" Unmoved by their cries, 
 she looked calmly and compassionately upon the 
 populace, without gesture or reply. One of the 
 officers, to relieve her from the .insults to which 
 she was exposed, asked her if she wished to have 
 the windows of the carriage closed. 
 
 "No!" she replied; "oppressed innocence 
 should not assume the attitude of crime and 
 shame. I do not fear the looks of honest men, 
 and I brave those of my enemies." 
 
 " You have very great resolution," was the 
 reply, " thus calmly to await justice." 
 
 " Justice !" she exclaimed ; " were justice 
 done I should not be here. But I shall go to 
 the scaffold as fearlessly as I now proceed to 
 the prison." 
 
 "Roland's flight," said one of the officers, 
 brutally, " is a proof of his guilt." 
 
 She indignantly replied, " It is so atrocious 
 to persecute a man who has rendered such serv-
 
 1793.] ARREST OF MADAME ROLAND. 215 
 
 / 
 
 Tbe Abbmy*. Ktodnam of the jafler'i wife. 
 
 ices to the cause of liberty. His conduct has 
 been so open and his accounts so olear, that he 
 is perfectly justifiable in avoiding the last out- 
 rages of envy and malice. Just as Aristides 
 %nd inflexible as Cato, he is indebted to his vir- 
 tues for his enemies. Let them satiate their 
 fury upon me. I defy their power, and devote 
 myself to death. He ought to save himself for 
 the sake of his country, to which he may yet 
 lo good." 
 
 When they arrived at the prison of the Ab- 
 baye, Madame Roland was first conducted into 
 a large, dark, gloomy room, which was occu- 
 pied by a number of men, who, in attitudes of 
 the deepest melancholy, were either pacing the 
 floor or reclining upon some miserable pallets 
 From this room she ascended a narrow and 
 dirty staircase to the jailer's apartment. The 
 jailer's wife was a kind woman, and imme- 
 diately felt the power of the attractions of her 
 fascinating prisoner. As no cell was yet pro- 
 vided for her, she permitted her to remain in her 
 'com for the rest of the day. ,The commission- 
 *rs who had brought her to the prison gave or- 
 ders that she should receive no indulgence, but 
 be treated with the utmost rigor. The instruc- 
 tions, however, being merely verbal, were but
 
 216 MADAME ROLAWD. [1793 
 
 Madame Roland (inters her cell. Her fint night thero 
 
 little regarded. She was furnished with com- 
 fartable refreshment instead of the repulsive 
 prison fare, and, after breakfast, was permitted 
 to write a letter to the National Assembly upon 
 her illegal arrest. Thus passed the day. 
 
 At ten o'clock in the evening, her cell being 
 prepared, she entered it for the first time. It 
 was a cold, bare room, with walls blackened by 
 the dust and damp of ages. There was a small 
 fire-place in the room, and a narrow window, 
 with a double iron grating, which admitted but 
 a dim twilight even at noon day. In one cor- 
 ner there was a pallet of straw. The chill night 
 air crept in at the unglazed window, and the 
 dismal tolling of the tocsin proclaimed that the 
 metropolis was still the scene of tumult and of 
 violence. Madame Roland threw herself upon 
 her humble bed, and was so overpowered by fa- 
 tigue and exhaustion that she woke not from 
 her dreamless slumber until twelve o'clock of 
 the next day. 
 
 Eudora, who had been left by her mother in 
 tte care of weeping domestics, was taken by a 
 friend, and watch'ed over and protected with ma- 
 ternal care. Though Madame Roland never 
 saw her idolized child again, her heart was com- 
 forted in the prison by the assurance that she
 
 1793.) ARREST OF MADAME ROLAND. 217 
 
 Emb*rTM*mont of M. Roland. Hlf escape from ParU 
 
 had found a home with those whc, for her moth- 
 er's sake, would love and cherish her. 
 
 The tidings of the arrest and imprisonment 
 of Madame Roland soon reached the ears of hei 
 unfortunate husband in his retreat. His em- 
 barrassment was most agonizing. To remain 
 and participate in her doom, whatever that doom 
 might be, would only diminish her chances of 
 escape and magnify her peril ; and yet it seemed 
 riot magnanimous to abandon his noble wife to 
 encounter her merciless foes alone. The tri- 
 umphant Jacobins were now, with the eager- 
 ness of blood-hounds, searching every nook and 
 corner in Paris, to drag the fallen minister from 
 his concealment. It soon became evident that 
 no dark hiding-place in the metropolis could long 
 conceal him from the vigilant search which was 
 commenced, and that he must seek safety in pre 
 oipitate flight. His friends obtained for him the 
 tattered garb of a peasant. In a dark night, 
 alone and trembling, he stole from his retreat, 
 and commenced a journey on foot, by a circuit- 
 ous and unfrequented route, to gain the front- 
 iers of Switzerland. He hoped to find a tem- 
 porary refuge by burying himself among the 
 lonely passes of the Alps. A man can face his 
 foo with a spirit undaunted and unyielding,
 
 218 MADAME ROLAND 1793 
 
 The re-arrest and escape. Cheerful philosophy of Madame Roland 
 
 but he can not fly from them without trembling 
 as he looks behind. For two or three days, 
 with blistered feet, and a heart agitated even 
 beyond all his powers of stoical endurance, he 
 toiled painfully along his dreary journey. As 
 he was entering Moulines, his marked features 
 were recognized. He was arrested, taken back 
 to Paris, and oast into prison, where he lan- 
 guished for some time. He subsequently again 
 made his escape, and was concealed by some 
 friends in the vicinity of Rouen, where he re- 
 mained in a state of indescribable suspense and 
 anguish until the death of his wife. 
 
 When Madame Roland awoke from her long 
 sleep, instead of yielding to despair and sur- 
 rendering herself to useless repinings, she im- 
 mediately began to arrange her cell as comfort- 
 ably as possible, and to look around for such 
 sources of comfort and enjoyment as might yet 
 be obtained. The course she pursued most 
 beautifully illustrates the power of a contented 
 and cheerful spirit not only to alleviate the 
 pangs of severest affliction, but to gild with 
 comfort even the darkest of earthly sorrows. 
 With those smiles of unaffected affability which' 
 won to her all hearts, she obtained the favor of 
 a small table, and then of a neat white spread
 
 1793.] ARREST OF MADAME ROLAND. 219 
 
 The cell mde study. Delight of the Jallar toad bit wife 
 
 to cover it. This she placed near the window 
 to serve for her writing-desk. To keep this ta- 
 ble, which she prized so highly, unsoiled, she 
 smilingly told her keeper that she should make 
 dining-table of her stove. A rusty dining-ta- 
 ble indeed it was. Two hair-pins, which she 
 drew from her own clustering ringlets, she drove 
 into a shelf for pegs to hang her clothes upon 
 These arrangements she made as cheerfully as 
 when superintending the disposition of the gor- 
 geous furniture in the palace over which she 
 had presided with so much elegance and grace 
 Having thus provided her study, her next cars 
 was to obtain a few books. She happened to 
 have Thomson's Seasons, a favorite volume of 
 hers, in her pocket. Through the jailer's wife 
 she succeeded in obtaining Plutarch's Lives and 
 Sheridan's Dictionary. 
 
 The jailer and his wife were both charmed 
 with their prisoner, and invited her to dint with 
 them that day. In the solitude of her cell she 
 oould distinctly hear the rolling of drums, the 
 tolling of bells, and all those sounds of tumult 
 which announced that the storm of popular in- 
 surrection was still s weeping through the streets 
 One of her faithful servants called to see her, 
 and, on beholding her mistress in such a situa-
 
 V20 MADAME ROLAND. [17913 
 
 Prtoon regulation*. COWM tar* 
 
 tion, the poor girl burst into tears. Madame 
 Roland was, for a moment, overcome by this 
 sensibility ; she, however, soon again regained 
 her self-command. She endeavored to banish 
 from her mind all painful thoughts of her hus- 
 band and her child, and to accommodate her- 
 self as heroically as possible to her situation 
 The prison regulations were very severe. The 
 government allowed twenty pence per day for 
 the support of each prisoner. Ten pence was 
 to be paid to the jailer for the furniture he put 
 into the cell ; ten pence only remained for food. 
 The prisoners were, however, allowed to pur- 
 chase such food as they pleased from their own 
 purse. Madame Roland, with that stoicism 
 which enabled her to triumph over all ordinary 
 ills, resolved to conform to the prison allowance. 
 She took bread and water alone for breakfast. 
 The dinner was coarse meat and vegetables. 
 The money she saved by this great frugality 
 she distributed among the poorer prisoners. The 
 only indulgence she allowed herself was in the 
 purchase of books and flowers. In reading and 
 with her pen she beguiled the weary days of 
 her imprisonment. And though at times hei 
 spirit was overwhelmed with anguish in view of 
 her desolate home and blighted hopes, she still
 
 1793.] ARREST OF MADAME ROLAND. 221 
 
 Prison employment Madame Roland's serenity of spirit 
 
 found great solace in the warm affections which 
 sprang up around her, even in the uncongenial 
 atmosphere of a prison. 
 
 Though she had been compelled to abandon 
 ilJ the enthusiastic dreams of her youth, she 
 still retained confidence in her faith that these 
 dark storms would ere long disappear from the 
 political horizon, and that a brighter day would 
 soon dawn upon the nations. No misfortunes 
 could disturb the serenity of her soul, and no 
 accumulating perils could daunt her courage. 
 She immediately made a methodical arrange- 
 ment of her time, so as to appropriate stated 
 employment to every hour. She cheered her- 
 self with the reflection that her husband was 
 safe in his retreat, with kind friends ready to 
 minister to all his wants. She felt assured that 
 her daughter was received with maternal love 
 by one who would ever watch over her with the 
 tenderest care. The agitation of the terrible 
 conflict was over. She submitted with calm- 
 ness and quietude to her lot. After having 
 been so long tossed by storms, she seemed to find 
 a peaceful harbor in her prison cell, and her spir- 
 it wandered back to those days, so serene and 
 happy, which she spent with her books in the 
 IHtle chamber beneath her father's roof She
 
 222 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 'nteDectual pMtlme. Visit from commUsloner* 
 
 however, made every effort in her power to re- 
 gain her freedom. She wrote to the Assembly, 
 protesting against her illegal arrest. She found 
 all these efforts unavailing. Still, she gave way 
 to no despondency, and uttered no murmurs. 
 Most of her time she employed in writing his- 
 toric notices of the scenes through which she 
 had passed. These papers she intrusted, for 
 preservation, to a friend, who occasionally gained 
 access to her. These articles, written with great 
 eloquence and feeling, were subsequently pub- 
 lished with her memoirs. Having such resour- 
 ces in her own highly-cultivated mind, even the 
 hours of imprisonment glided rapidly and hap- 
 pily along. Time had no tardy flight, and there 
 probably might have been found many a lady 
 in Europe lolling in a sumptuous carriage, or 
 reclining upon a silken couch, who had far fewer 
 hours of enjoyment. 
 
 One day some commissioners called at her 
 cell, hoping to extort from her the secret of her 
 husband's retreat. She looked them oahnly in 
 the face, and saii, " Gentlemen, I know per- 
 fectly well where my husband is. I scorn to 
 tell you a lie. I know also my own strength. 
 And I assure you that there is no earthly pow- 
 er which can induce me to betray him." The
 
 1793.] ARREST OF MADAME ROLAND. 223 
 
 Madame Roland'* horoUm aeoounted crime. 
 
 commissioners withdrew, admiring her heroism, 
 and convinced that she was still able to wield 
 an influence which might yet bring the guillo- 
 tine upon their own necks. Her doom wag 
 sealed. Her heroism was her crime. She was 
 too illustrious to live.
 
 224 MADAMB ROLAND. [1793 
 
 fate of the Oirtmdlrta. Their heroic courage 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 FATE OF THE GIRONDISTS. 
 
 A S the fate of the Girondist party, of which 
 ^*- Madame Roland was the soul, is so inti- 
 mately connected with her history, we must 
 leave her in the prison, while we turn aside to 
 contemplate the doom of her companions. The 
 portentous thunders of the approaching storm 
 had given such warning to the Girondists, that 
 many had effected their escape from Paris, and 
 in various disguises, in friendlessness and pov- 
 erty, were wandering over Europe. Others, 
 however, were too proud to fly. Conscious of 
 the most elevated patriotic sentiments, and 
 with no criminations of conscience, except for 
 sacrificing too much in love for their country, 
 they resolved to remain firm at their post, and 
 to face their foes. Calmly and sternly they 
 awaited the onset. This heroic courage did 
 but arouse and invigorate their foes. Mercy 
 had long since died in France. 
 
 Immediately after the tumult of that dread* 
 fal night in which the Convention was iimnda-
 
 1793.] FATE OF THE GIRONDISTS. 225 
 
 fbe UlrondijtB In the Conciergerie. Their mUorable oooditio*. 
 
 ted with assassins clamoring for blood, twenty- 
 one of the Girondists were arrested and thrown 
 into the dungeons of the Conciergerie. Impris- 
 oned together, and fully conscious that thnir 
 trial would be but a mockery, and that their 
 doom was already sealed, they fortified one an- 
 other with all the consolations which philosophy 
 and the pride of magnanimity could administer 
 In those gloomy cells, beneath the level of the 
 street, into whose deep and grated windows the 
 rays of the noonday sun could but feebly pene- 
 trate, their faces soon grew wan, and wasted, 
 and haggard, from confinement, the foul prison 
 air, and woe. 
 
 There is no sight more deplorable than that 
 of an accomplished man of intellectual tastes, 
 accustomed to all the refinements of polished 
 life, plunged into those depths of misery from 
 which the decencies even of our social being are 
 excluded. These illustrious statesmen and elo- 
 quent orators, whose words had vibrated upon 
 the ear of Europe, were transformed into the 
 most revolting aspect of beggared and haggard 
 misery. Their clothes, ruined by the humid 
 filth of their dungeons, moldered to decay 
 Unwashed, unshorn, in the loss almost of the 
 aspect of humanity, they became repulsive to 
 1815
 
 226 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 TouthfiU hopM omt ihort Bute of Pmrts 
 
 each other. Unsupported by any of those con- 
 solations which religion affords, many hours of 
 the blackest gloom must have enveloped them. 
 Not a few of the deputies were young men, 
 in the morning of their energetic being, their 
 bosoms glowing with all the passions of this tu- 
 multuous world, buoyant with hope, stimulated 
 by love, invigorated by perfect health. And 
 they found themselves thus suddenly plunged 
 from the heights of honor and power to the dis- 
 mal darkness of the dungeon, from whence the} 
 could emerge only to be led to the scaffold. A1J 
 the bright hopes of life had gone down amid the 
 gloom of midnight darkness. Several months 
 lingered slowly away while these men wtre 
 awaiting their trial. Day after day they heard 
 the tolling of the tocsin, the reverberations of 
 the alarm gun, and the beating of the insurrec- 
 tion drum, as the demon of lawless violence ri- 
 oted through the streets of the blood-stained me- 
 tropolis. The execrations of the mob, loud and 
 fiend-like, accompanied the cart of the con- 
 demned, as it, rumbled upon the pavements 
 above their heads, bearing the victims of popu- 
 .ar fury to the guillotine ; and still, most stoic- 
 ally, they struggled to nerve their souls with 
 fortitude to meet their fate.
 
 1793.] FATE OF THE GIRONDISTS. 227 
 
 Book* and friends. Anecdote of Vergnland 
 
 From these massive stone walls, guarded by 
 triple doors of iron and watched by numerous 
 sentinels, answerable for the safe custody of 
 their prisoners with their lives, there was no 
 possibility of escape. The rigor of their impris- 
 onment was, consequently, somewhat softened 
 as weeks passed on, and they were occasionally 
 permitted to see their friends through the iron 
 wicket. Books, also, aided to relieve the tedium 
 of confinement. The brother-in-law of Vergn- 
 iaud came to visit him, and brought with him 
 his son, a child ten years of age. The features 
 of the fair boy reminded Vergniaud of his be- 
 oved sister, and awoke mournfully in his heart 
 f .he remembrance of departed joys. When the 
 child saw his uncle imprisoned like a malefac- 
 tor, his cheeks haggard and sunken, his matted 
 hair straggling over his forehead, his long beard 
 disfiguring his face, and his clothes hanging in 
 tatters, he clung to his father, affrighted by the 
 sad sight, and burst into tears. 
 
 " My child," said Vergniaud, kindly, taking 
 him in his arms, " look well at me. When yon 
 are a man, you can say that you saw Vergn- 
 iaud, the founder of the Republic, at the most 
 glorious period, and in the most splendid cos- 
 tame he ever wore that in which he suffered
 
 228 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Sentiment* of the QlrondlaU Inscribed on the prison walla. 
 
 unmerited persecution, and in which he prepar- 
 ed to die for liberty." These words produced 
 a deep impression upon the mind of the child. 
 He remembered them to repeat them after the 
 lapse of half a century. 
 
 The cells in which they were imprisoned stii. 
 remain as they were left on the morning b 
 which these illustrious men were led to theii 
 execution. On the dingy walls of stone are still 
 recorded those sentiments which they had in 
 scribed there, and which indicate the nature of 
 those emotions which animated and sustained 
 them. These proverbial maxims and heroic ex 
 pressions, gleaned from French tragedies or the 
 classic page, were written with the blood which 
 they had drawn from their own veins. In one 
 place is carefully written, 
 
 4 Quand il n'a pu sauver la libertfc de Rome, 
 Caton eat libra encore et suit mourir en bornme." 
 
 ' When he no longer had pover to preterit the liberty of ROHM 
 Cato itill vat free, and knew koto to die f+r man." 
 
 Again, 
 
 " Oui/virtua non deest 
 Ille nunquam omnino miser." 
 
 " Ht who retain* hit integrity 
 Can ntoer be wholly mittrmbl*." 
 
 IB another place,
 
 L793.] FATE OF THE GIRONDISTS. 229 
 
 HeetlnionU of the Girondists inecribtd on the prUoa walla. 
 
 " La vraie libertfe eat celle de 1'ame." 
 "True liberty it that of the tend." 
 
 On a beam was written, 
 
 " Dignum oerte Deo spectaoulum fortem vi- 
 rum cum oalamitate oolmctantem." 
 
 " Even God may look with pleasure upon a 
 brave man struggling against adversity." 
 
 Again, 
 
 'Quels Bolides appui dans le malheur supreme! 
 J'ai pour moi ma vertu, 1'fequitfe, Dieu mftme." 
 
 ' How rubstantial the consolation in the greatest calamity 
 I have for mine, my virtue, juttice, God kimielf." 
 
 Beneath this was written, 
 
 " Le jour n'est pas plus pur qua le fond de mon coBur." 
 " The day it not more pure than the deptht of my heart." 
 
 In large letters of blood there was inscribed, 
 In the hand- writing of Vergniaud, 
 
 " Potius mori quam fadari." 
 
 " Death it preferable to dithonor. " 
 
 But one sentence is recorded there which 
 oould be considered strictly of a religious char 
 aoter. It was taken from the " Imitation of 
 Christ." 
 
 " Remember that you are not called to a life 
 of indulgence and pleasure, but to toil and to 
 suffer."
 
 230 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 La Source and Sillerr. Their eveainf dbft 
 
 La Source and Sillery, two very devoted 
 friends, occupied a cell together. La Source 
 was a devoted Christian, and found, in the con- 
 solations of piety, an unfailing support. Sil- 
 lery possessed a feeling heart, and was soothed 
 and comforted by the devotion of his friend. 
 La Source composed a beautiful hymn, adapted 
 to a sweet and solemn air, which they called 
 their evening service. Night after night this 
 mournful dirge was heard gently issuing from 
 the darkness of their cell, in tones so melodious 
 and plaintive that they never died away from 
 the memory of those who heard them. It is 
 difficult to conceive of any thing more affecting 
 than this knell, so softly uttered at'midnight in 
 those dark and dismal dungeons. 
 
 " Calm all the tumults that invade 
 
 Our souls, and lend thy powerful aid. 
 
 Oh ! source of mercy ! soothe our pains, 
 
 And break, break our cruel chains ! 
 
 To Thee the captive pours his cry, 
 
 To Thee the mourner loves to fly. 
 
 The incense of our tears receive 
 
 'Tis all the incense we can give. 
 ' Eternal Pdwer ! our cause defend, 
 
 God ! of innocence the friend. 
 
 Near Thee forever she resides, 
 
 In Thee forever she confides. 
 
 Thou know'st the secrets of the breast : 
 
 Thou knowV the oppressor and the oppreM'4
 
 1793.] FATE OF THE GIRONDISTS. 231 
 
 DM day of trial. The mUnamod Hall* of Juttoa 
 
 Do thou our wrongs with pity see, 
 Avert a doom offending thee. 
 ' But should the murderer's arm prevail ) 
 Should tyranny our lives assail ; 
 Unmoved, triumphant, scorning death, 
 We'll bless Thee with our latest breath. 
 The hour, the glorious hour will come, 
 That consecrates the patriots' tomb ; 
 And with the pang our memory claims, 
 Our country will avenge our names." 
 
 Summer had come and gone while these dis 
 tinguished prisoners were awaiting their doom. 
 World-weary and sick at heart, they still strug- 
 gled to sustain each other, and to meet their 
 dreadful fate with heroic constancy. The day 
 for their trial at length arrived. It was the 
 20th of October, 1793. They had long been 
 held up before the mob, by placards and impas- 
 sioned harangues, as traitors to their country, 
 and the populace of Paris were clamorous for 
 their consignment to the guillotine. They were 
 led from the dungeons of the Conoiergerie tc 
 the misnamed Halls of Justice. A vast con 
 course of angry men surrounded the tribunal, 
 and filled the air with execrations. Paris that 
 day presented the aspect of a camp. The Jao- 
 bins, conscious that there were still thousands 
 of the most influential of the citizens who re- 
 garded tha Girondists with veneration as inoor-
 
 232 MADAME ROLAND. [171K1 
 
 Frecaotionj of thn Joobin*. Demeanor of tha prtMMn 
 
 mptible patriots, determined to prevent the pos- 
 sibility of a rescue. They had some cause tc 
 apprehend a counter revolution. They there- 
 fore gathered around the scene of trial all that 
 imposing military array which they had at then 
 disposal. Cavalry, with plumes, and helmets, 
 and naked sabers, were sweeping the streets, 
 that no accumulations of the multitude might 
 gather force. The pavements trembled beneath 
 the rumbling wheels of heavy artillery, ready 
 to belch forth their storm of grape-shot upon 
 any opposing foe. Long lines of infantry, with 
 loaded muskets and glittering bayonets, guard- 
 ed all the avenues to the tribunal, where ran- 
 corous passion sat enthroned in mockery upon 
 the seat of justice. 
 
 The prisoners had nerved themselves sternly 
 to meet this crisis of their doom. Two by two, 
 in solemn procession, they marched to the bar 
 of judgment, and took their seat upon benches 
 surrounded by gens d'armes and a frowning pop 
 tilace, and arraigned before judges already de- 
 termined upon their doom. The eyes of the 
 world were, however, upon them. The accus- 
 ed were illustrious in integrity, in rank, in tal- 
 ent. In the distant provinces there were thou- 
 sands who were their friends. It was necessary
 
 L793.J FATE OF THE GIRONDISTS 233 
 
 The trial and condemnation. Death of ValaM 
 
 to go through the formality of a trial. A few 
 of the accused still clung to the hope of life. 
 They vainly dreamed it possible that, by si- 
 lence, and the abandonment of themselves to 
 the resistless power by which they were crush- 
 ed, some mercy might be elicited. It was a 
 weakness unworthy of these great men. But 
 there are few minds which can remain firm 
 while immured for months in the wasting mis- 
 ery of a dungeon. In those glooms the sinews 
 of mental energy wither with dying hope. The 
 trial continued for a week. On the 30th of Oc- 
 tober, at eleven o'clock at night, the verdict was 
 Drought in. They were all declared guilty of 
 naving conspired against the Republic, and 
 were condemned to death. With the light of 
 the next morning's sun they were to be led to 
 the guillotine. 
 
 As the sentence was pronounced, one of the 
 accused, M. Valaze, made a motion with his 
 hand, as if to tear his garment, and fell from 
 his seat upon the floor. "What, Valaz6," said 
 Brissot, striving to support him, "are you los- 
 ing your courage ?" " No," replied Valaze, 
 faintly, " I am dying ;" and he expired, with 
 his hand still grasping the hilt of the dagger 
 with which he had pierced his heart. For a
 
 234 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Vwtau emotion*. Return to the Concforgwfe 
 
 moment it was a scene of unutterable horror 
 The condemned gathered sadly around the re- 
 mains of their lifeless companion. Some, who 
 had confidently expected acquittal, overcome 
 by the near approach of death, yielded to mo- 
 mentary weakness, and gave utterance to rr 
 proaches and lamentations. Others, pale and 
 stupefied, gazed around in moody silence. One, 
 in the delirium of enthusiasm, throwing his 
 arms above his head, shouted, " This is the 
 most glorious day of my life !" Vergniaud, 
 seated upon the highest bench, with the com- 
 posure of philosophy and piety combined, look- 
 ed upon the scene, exulting in the victory his 
 own spirit had achieved over peril and death. 
 
 The weakness which a few displayed was 
 but momentary. They rallied their energies 
 boldly to meet their inevitable doom. They 
 gathered for a moment around the corpse of 
 their lifeless companion, and were then formed 
 in procession, to march back to their ceils. It 
 was midnight as the condemned Girondists 
 were led from the bar of the Palace of Justice 
 back to the dungeons of the Conciergerie, there 
 to wait till the swift- winged hours should bring 
 the dawn which was to guide their steps to the 
 guillotine. Their presence of mind had no*
 
 1793.] FATE OF THE GIRONDISTS. 235 
 
 The Girondist* exultingly ling the MarsefllaUe Hymn. 
 
 returned, and their bosoms glowed with the 
 loftiest enthusiasm. In fulfillment of a prom- 
 ise they had made their fellow-prisoners, to in- 
 form them of their fate by the echoes of their 
 voices, they burst into the Marseillaise Hymn. 
 The vaults of the Conciergerie rang with the 
 song as they shouted, in tones of exultant en- 
 
 " Aliens, enfans de la patrie, 
 
 Le jour de glorie est arrivfe, 
 Centre nous de la tyrannie 
 L'etendard sanglant eat Iev6. 
 
 " Come ! children of your country, come ! 
 
 The day of glory dawns on high, 
 And tyranny has wide unfurl'd 
 
 Her blood-stain'd banner in the sky." 
 
 It was their death-knell. As they were slowly 
 led along through the gloomy corridors of their 
 prison to the cells, these dirge-like wailings of 
 a triumphant song penetrated the remotest dun- 
 geons of that dismal abode, and roused every 
 wretched head from its pallet. The arms of 
 the guard clattered along the stone floor of the 
 subterranean caverns, and the unhappy victims 
 of the Revolution, roused from the temporary 
 oblivion of sleep, or from dreams of the homes 
 of refinement and luxury from which they had 
 taen torn, glared through the iron gratings
 
 236 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 The Otrondiita prepare for the last (ceoe. Brutal daerea 
 
 upon the melancholy procession, and uttered last 
 words of adieu to those whose fate they almost 
 envied. The acquittal of the Girondists would 
 have given them some little hope that they also 
 might find mercy. Now they sunk back upon 
 their pillows in despair, and lamentations and 
 wailings filled the prison. 
 
 The condemned, now that their fate was seal- 
 ed, had laid aside all weakness, -and, mutually 
 encouraging one another, prepared as martyrs 
 to encounter the last stern trial. They were 
 all placed in one large room opening into sev- 
 eral cells, and the lifeless body of their compan- 
 ion was deposited in one of the corners. By a 
 decree of the tribunal, the still warm and bleed- 
 ing remains of Valaze were to be carried back 
 to the cell, and to be conveyed the next morn- 
 ing, in the same cart with the prisoners, to the 
 guillotine. The ax was to sever the head from 
 the lifeless body, and all the headless trunks 
 were to be interred together. 
 
 A wealthy friend, who had escaped proscrip- 
 tion, and was concealed in Paris, had agreed to 
 send them a sumptuous banquet the night aftei 
 their trial, which banquet was to prove to them 
 r funeral repast or a triumphant feast, accord- 
 ing TO the verdict af acquittal or condemnation
 
 1793.1 KATE OF THE GIRONDISTS. 237 
 
 Lait (out of tb Girwutirt*. Strange <:e.ne 
 
 Their friond kept his word. Soon after the pris- 
 oners were remanded to their cell, a table was 
 spread, and preparations were made for their 
 last supper. There was a large oaken table in 
 the prison, where those awaiting their trial, and 
 those awaiting their execution, met for their 
 coarse prison fare. A rich cloth was spread upon 
 that table. Servants entered, bearing brilliant 
 lamps, which illuminated the dismal vault with 
 an unnatural luster, and spread the glare of 
 noon-day light upon the miserable pallets of 
 straw, the rusty iron gratings and chains, and 
 the stone walls weeping with moisture, which 
 no ray of the sun or warmth of fire ever dried 
 away. It was a strange scene, that brilliant 
 festival, in the midst of the glooms of the most 
 dismal dungeon, with one dead body lying upon 
 the floor, and those for whom the feast was pre- 
 pared waiting only for the early dawn to light 
 them to their death and burial. The richest 
 viands of meats and wines were brought hi and 
 placed before the condemned. Vases of flowers 
 iH'used their fragrance and expanded their beau- 
 ty where flowers were never seen to blocrn be* 
 fore. Wan and haggard faces, unwashed and 
 unshorn, gazed upon the unwonted spectacle, 
 us dazzling flambeaux, and rich table furniture..
 
 238 MADAME ROLAND. [1793. 
 
 Fhe Abb* Lambert HI* memoranda. 
 
 and bouquets, and costly dishes appeared, one 
 after another, until the board was covered with 
 Luxury and splendor. 
 
 In silence the condemned took their places al 
 the table. They were men of brilliant intellects, 
 of enthusiastic eloquence, thrown suddenly from 
 the heights of power to the foot of the sctJfold. 
 A priest, the Abbe Lambert, the intimate per- 
 sonal friend of several of the most eminent of 
 the Girondists, had obtained admittance into 
 the prison to accompany his friends to the guil- 
 lotine, and to administer to them the last con- 
 solations of religion. He stood in the corridor, 
 looking through the open door upon those as- 
 sembled around the table, and, with his pencil 
 in his hand, noted down their words, their ges- 
 tures, their sighs their weakness and their 
 strength. It is to him that we are indebted for 
 all knowledge of the sublime scenes enacted at 
 the last supper of the Girondists. The repast 
 was prolonged until the dawn of morning began 
 to steal faintly in at the grated windows of the 
 prison and the gathering tumult without w* 
 nounoed the preparations to conduct them to 
 their execution. 
 
 Vergniaud, the most prominent and the moet 
 eloquent of their number, presided at the foast
 
 1793.] FATE OP THE GIRONDISTS. 239 
 
 Vecgniaud preside! at the feast Unnatural gayety 
 
 He had little, save the love of glory, to bind him 
 to life, for he had neither father nor mother, 
 wife nor child; and he doubted not that pos- 
 terity would do him justice, and that his death 
 would be the most glorious act of his life. No 
 one could imagine, from the calm and subdued 
 conversation, and the quiet appetite with which 
 these distinguished men partook of the enter- 
 tainment, that this was their last repast, and 
 but the prelude to a violent death. But when 
 the cloth was removed, and the fruits, the wines, 
 and the flowers alone remained, the conversa- 
 tion became animated, gay, and at times rose 
 to hilarity. Several of the youngest men of the 
 party, in sallies of wit and outbursts of laugh- 
 ter, endeavored to repel the gloom which dark- 
 ened their spirits in view of death on the mor- 
 row. It was unnatural gayety, unreal, un- 
 worthy of the men. Death is not a jest, and no 
 one can honor himself by trying to make it so. 
 A spirit truly noble can encounter this king of 
 terrors with lortitude, but never with levity. 
 Still, now and then, shouts of laughter and 8ong& 
 of merriment burst from the lips of these young 
 men, as they endeavored, with a kind of hys- 
 terical energy, to nerve themselves tt show to 
 their enemies their contempt of life and of death.
 
 240 MADAME ROLAND. |17 l Jo 
 
 LMt thoughts. Religion, philosophy, ud Uftdelity 
 
 Others were more thoughtful, serene, and truly 
 brave. 
 
 " What shall we be doing to-morrow at this 
 timo> ?" said Ducos. 
 
 All paused. Religion had its hopes, philos- 
 ophy its dreams, infidelity its dreary blank. 
 Each answered according to his faith. "We 
 shall sleep after the fatigues of the day," said 
 some, " to wake no more." Atheism had dark- 
 ened their minds. " Death is an eternal sleep,'' 
 had become their gloomy creed. They looked 
 forward to the slide of the guillotine as ending 
 all thought, and consigning them back to that 
 non-existence from which they had emerged at 
 their creation. " No !" replied Fauohet, Carru, 
 and others, " annihilation is not our destiny 
 We- are immortal. These bodies may perish 
 These living thoughts, these boundless aspira- 
 tions, can never die. To-morrow, far away in 
 other worlds, we shall think, and feel, and act 
 and solve the problems of the immaterial des- 
 tiny of the human mind." Immortality wa* 
 the theme. The song was hushed upon thetff 
 dying lips. The forced laughter fainted awaj . 
 Standing upon the brink of that dread abyss 
 from whence no one has returned with tidings, 
 every soul felt a longing for immortality. They
 
 1793.J FATE OF THI GIRONDISTS. 241 
 
 Eloquence of Vergnlv ad. Argnrnoct for Immortality 
 
 turned to Vergniaud, whose brilliant intellect, 
 whose soul-moving eloquence, whose spotless 
 life commanded their reverence, and appealed 
 to him for light, and truth, and consolation. 
 His words are lost. The effect of his discourse 
 alone is described. " Never,'' Gaid the abbe 
 " had his look, his gesture, his language, and 
 his voice more profoundly affected his hearers." 
 In the conclusion of a discourse which is de- 
 scribed as one of almost superhuman eloquence, 
 during which some were aroused to the most 
 exalted enthusiasm, all were deeply moved, and 
 many wept, Vergniaud exclaimed, 
 
 " Death is but the greatest act of life, since 
 it gives birth to a higher state of existenca 
 Were it not thus there would be something 
 greater than God. It would be the just man 
 immolating himself uselessly and hopelessly for 
 his country. This supposition is a folly of blas- 
 phemy, and I repel it with contempt E".d hor- 
 ror. No! Vergniaud is not greater than God, 
 but God is more just than Vergniaud ; and He 
 will not to-morrow suffer him to ascend a scaf- 
 fold but to justify and avenge him in future 
 ages." 
 
 And now the light of day began to stream io 
 
 at the windows. " Let us go to bed," said one, 
 1816
 
 MAD'AME ROLAND. [179& 
 
 LMt preparttioBi. Arrival of the eiecutionert. 
 
 " and sleep until we are called to go forth to oui 
 Last sleep. Life is a thing so trifling that it is 
 not worth the hour of sleep we lose in regret- 
 ting it." 
 
 " Let us rather watch," said another, "dur- 
 ing the few moments which remain to us. Eter- 
 nity is so certain and so terrible that a thou 
 sand lives would not suffice to prepare for it." 
 
 They rose from the table, and most of them 
 retired to their cells and threw themselves upon 
 their beds for a few moments of bodily repose 
 and meditation. Thirteen, however, remained 
 in the larger apartment, finding a certain kind 
 of support in society. In a low tone of voice 
 they conversed with each other. They were 
 worn out with excitement, fatigue, and want 
 of sleep. Some wept. Sleep kindly came to 
 some, and lulled their spirits into momentary 
 oblivion. 
 
 At ten o'clock the iron doors grated on their 
 hinges, and the tramp of the gens d'armes, with 
 the clattering of their sabers, was heard rever 
 berating through the gloomy corridors and vaults 
 of their dungeon, as they came, with the exe 
 cutioners. to lead the condemned to the scaffold. 
 Their long hair was cut from their necks, that 
 the ax, with unobstructed edge, might do it*
 
 L793.J FATE OP THE GIRONDISTS. 243 
 
 Bouvomru to friend*. The carts of the condemned. 
 
 work. Each one left some simple and affecting 
 souvenir to friends. Gensonne picked up a look 
 of his black hair, and gave it to the Abbe Lam- 
 bert o give to his wife " Tell her," said he, 
 u that it is the only memorial of my love which I 
 can transmit to her, and that my last thoughts 
 in death were hers." Vergniaud drew from his 
 pocket his watch, and, with his knife, scratched 
 upon the case a few lir Q s of tender remembrance, 
 and sent the token to a young lady to whom he 
 was devotedly attached, and to whom he was ere 
 long to have been married. Each gave to the 
 abbe some legacy of affection to be conveyed to 
 loved ones who were to be left behind. Few 
 emotions are stronger in the hour of death thar 
 the desire to be embalmed in the affections of 
 those who are dear to us. 
 
 All being ready, the gens d'armes marched 
 the condemned, in a column, into the prison 
 yard, where five rude carts were awaiting them, 
 to convey them to the scaffold. The^ countless 
 thousands of Paris were swarming around the 
 prison,, filling the court, and rolling, like ocean 
 tides, into every adjacent avenue. Each cart 
 contained five persons, with the exception cf the 
 last, into which the dead body of Valaze had 
 .been cast with four of his living companions.
 
 244 MADAME ROLAND. [1703. 
 
 Enthui!an of the GlrondliU. Tto tot erabnea 
 
 And now came to the Girondists their hour 
 of triumph. Heroism rose exultant over all ills. 
 The brilliant sun and the elastic air of an Ooto- 
 ber morning invigorated their bodies, and the 
 cene of sublimity through which they were 
 passing stimulated their spirits to the highest 
 pitch of enthusiasm. As the carts moved from 
 the court-yard, with one simultaneous voice, 
 clear and sonorous, the Girondists burst into 
 the Marseillaise Hymn. The crowd gazed in 
 silence as this funereal chant, not like the wail- 
 ings of a dirge, but like the strains of an exult- 
 ant song, swelled and died away upon the air. 
 Here and there some friendly voice among the 
 wpulaoe ventured to swell the volume of sound 
 as the significant words were uttered, 
 
 " Contre nous de la tyrannie 
 
 L'fetendard sanglant eat levfe." 
 
 " And tyranny has wide unforl'd 
 
 Her blood-ataiu'd banner in the iky." 
 
 At the end of each verse their voices sank loi 
 
 
 
 a moment into silence. The strain was then 
 again renewed*, loud and sonorous. On arriv- 
 ing at the scaffold, they all embraced In one 
 long, last adieu. It was a token of their com- 
 munion in death as in life. They then, in con- 
 cert, loudly and firmly resumed their funereal
 
 1793.] FATE OF THE QIBONDISTS. 245 
 
 HM Mention. Fortitude of Vergniaud. 
 
 ohaiit. One ascended the scaffold, continuing 
 the song with his companions. He was bound 
 to the plank. Still his voice was heard full and 
 strong. The plank slowly fell. Still his voice, 
 vrithout a tremor, joined in the triumphant cho- 
 rus. The glittering ax glided like lightning 
 down the groove. His head fell into the basket, 
 and one voice was hushed forever. Another 
 ascended, and another, and another, each with 
 the song bursting loudly from his lips, till death 
 ended the strain. There was no weakness. No 
 step trembled, no cheek paled, no voice faltered. 
 But each succeeding moment the song grew 
 more faint as head after head fell, and the bleed- 
 ing bodies were piled side by side. At last one 
 voice alone continued the song. It was that 
 of Vergniaud, the most illustrious of them all. 
 Long confinement had spread deathly pallor over 
 his intellectual features, but firm and daunt- 
 less, and with a voice of surpassing richness, he 
 continued the solo into which the chorus had 
 now died away. Without the tremor of a 
 nerve, he mounted the scaffold. For a moment 
 he stood in silence, as he looked down upon the 
 lifeless bodies of his friends, and around upon 
 the overawed multitude gazing in silent admi- 
 ration upon this heroic enthusiasm. As he then
 
 JJ46 MADAME ROLAWD. [1793 
 
 Burial of the txxK.. Errors ef the Glrondlito 
 
 surrendered himself to the executioner, he com 
 menced anew the strain, 
 
 " Aliens ! enfans de la patrie, 
 Le jour de gloire eat arrivfe." 
 
 " Come ! children of your country, come ! 
 The day of glory dawns on high." 
 
 In the midst of the exultant tones, the ax glided 
 on its bloody mission, and those lips, which had 
 guided the storm of revolution, and whose patri- 
 otic appeals had thrilled upon the ear of France, 
 were silent in death. Thus perished the Gi- 
 rondists, the founders of the Republic and its 
 victims. Their votes consigned Louis and Ma- 
 ria to the guillotine, and they were the first to 
 follow them. One cart conveyed the twenty- 
 one bodies away, and they were thrown into 
 one pit, by the side of the grave of Louis XVI. 
 They committed many errors. Few minds 
 could discern distinctly the path of truth and 
 duty through the clouds and vapors of those 
 stormy times. But they were most sincerely 
 devoted to the liberties of France. They over- 
 threw the moharchy, and established the Re- 
 public. They died because they refused to open 
 those sluice-ways of blood which the people de- 
 manded. A few of the Girondists had made 
 their escape. Petion, Buzot, Barbaroux, and
 
 1793.J FATE OP THE GIRONDISTS. 249 
 
 Kacape of Qandet and other*. The Jacobin* clamor for more blood 
 
 Gaudet wandered in disguise, and hid them 
 selves in the caves of wild and unfrequented 
 mountains. La Fayette, who was one of tht 
 most noble and illustrious apostles of this creed, 
 was saved from the guillotine by weary years 
 of imprisonment in the dungeons of Olmutz. 
 Madame Roland lingered in her cell, striving 
 to maintain serenity, while her soul was tor- 
 tured with the tidings of carnage and woe which 
 every morning's dawn brought to her ears. 
 
 The Jacobins were now more and more clam- 
 orous for blood. They strove to tear La Fay- 
 ette from his dungeon, that they might triumph 
 in his death. They pursued, with implacable 
 vigilance, the Girondists who had escaped from 
 their fury. They trained blood-hounds to scent 
 them out in their wild retreats, where they were 
 suffering, from cold and starvation, all that hu- 
 man nature can possibly endure. For a time, 
 five of them lived together in a cavern, thirty 
 feet in depth This cavern had a secret com- 
 munication with the cellar of a house. Their 
 generous hostess, periling her own life for them, 
 daily supplied them with food. She could fur- 
 nish them only with the most scanty fare, let 
 he should be betrayed by the purchase of pro- 
 visions necessary for so many mouths. It wa
 
 250 MADAMB ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Mora Girondists executed. Fat* of Pttion and Boaot 
 
 mid-winter. No fire warmed them in theii 
 damp and gloomy vault, and this living burial 
 must have been worse than death. The search 
 became so rigid that it was necessary for them 
 to disperse. One directed his steps toward the 
 Pyrenees. He was arrested and executed. 
 Three toiled along by night, through cold, and 
 snow, and rain, the keen wind piercing their 
 tattered garments, till their sufferings made 
 them reckless of life. They were arrested, and 
 found, in the blade of the guillotine, a refuge 
 from their woes. At last all were taken and 
 executed but Petion and Buzot. Their fate is 
 involved in mystery. None can tell what their 
 sufferings were during the days and the nights 
 of their weary wanderings, when no eye but 
 that of God could see them. Some peasants 
 found among the mountains, where they had 
 taken refuge, human remains rent in pieces by 
 the wolves. The tattered garments were scat- 
 tered around where the teeth of the ferocious 
 animals had left them. They were all that 
 was left of the noble Petion and Buzot. But 
 how did they die ? Worn out by suffering and 
 abandoned to despair, did they fall by their own 
 hands ? Did they perish from exposure to hun- 
 ger and exhaustion, and the freezing blasts of
 
 1793.] FATE OF THE GIRONDISTS. 251 
 
 Mystery attending the death of Pfetion and Busot 
 
 winter ? Or, in their weakness, were they at- 
 tacked by the famished wolves of the mount- 
 ains ? The dying scene of Petion and Buzot is 
 involved in impenetrable obscurity. Its tragio 
 accompaniments can only be revaaled when all 
 mysteries shall be unfolded.
 
 252 MADAME ROLAND. [17<J3 
 
 Ubentkm of Madame Roland. MM U r*-<UT<*tod 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 PRISON It i P K. 
 
 JY/IADAME ROLAND remained for foni 
 -'-'-- months in the Abbay6 prison. On the 
 24th day of her imprisonment, to her inexpress- 
 ible astonishment, an officer entered her cell, 
 and informed her that she was liberated, as no 
 charge could be found against her. Hardly 
 crediting her senses fearing that she should 
 wake up and find her freedom but the blissful 
 ielirium of a dream she took a coach and 
 hastened to her own door. Her eyes were full 
 of tears of joy, and her heart almost bursting 
 with the throbbings of delight, in the anticipa- 
 tion of again pressing her idolized child to hef 
 bosom. Her hand was upon the door latch 
 she had not yet passed the threshold when two 
 men, who had watched at the door of her dwell- 
 ing, again seized her in the name of the law. 
 In spite of her tears and supplications, they 
 conveyed her to the prison of St. P61agi6. This 
 loathsome receptacle of crime was filled with 
 the abandoned females who had been swept, in
 
 1793.] PRISON LIFE. 5>53 
 
 Infamous cruelty of the Jacobin*. Anguish of Madura Roland 
 
 impurity and degradation, from the streets of 
 Paris. It was, apparently, a studied humilia- 
 tion, to compel their victim to associate with 
 beings from whom her soul shrunk with loath- 
 ing. She had resigned herself to die, but not 
 to the society of infamy and pollution. 
 
 The Jacobins, conscious of the illegality oi 
 her first arrest, and dreading her power, were 
 anxious to secure her upon a more legal foot- 
 ing. They adopted, therefore, this measure of 
 liberating her and arresting her a second time. 
 Even her firm and resigned spirit was for a 
 moment vanquished by this cruel blow. Her 
 olissful dream of happiness was so instantane- 
 ously converted into the blackness of despair, 
 that she buried her face in her hands, and, in 
 the anguish of a bruised and broken heart, wept 
 aloud. The struggle, though short, was very 
 violent ere she regained her wonted composure. 
 She soon, however, won the compassionate sym- 
 pathy of her jailers, and was removed from 
 ^ihis degrading companionship to a narrow cell, 
 where she could enjoy the luxury of being alone. 
 AJI humble bed was spread for her in one cor 
 ner, and a small table was placed near the few 
 raya of light which stole feebly in through tha 
 iron grating of the inaccessible Window. Sum-
 
 254 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Madame Roland recoTen her composure. Intellectual enjoynifint* 
 
 rnoning all her fortitude to her aid, she again 
 resumed her usual occupations, allotting to each 
 hour of the day its regular employment. She 
 angaged vigorously in the study of the English 
 language, and passed some hours every day in 
 drawing, of which accomplishment she was very 
 fond. She had no patterns to copy ; but her 
 imagination wandered through the green fields 
 and by the murmuring brooks of her rural home. 
 Now she roved with free footsteps through the 
 vineyards which sprang up beneath her creative 
 pencil. Now she floated upon the placid lake, 
 reclining upon the bosom of her husband and 
 caressing her child, beneath the tranquil- sub- 
 limity of the evening sky. Again she sat down 
 at the humble fireside of the peasant, minister- 
 ing to the wants of the needy, and receiving 
 the recompense of grateful hearts. Thus, on 
 the free wing of imagination, she penetrated all 
 scenes of beauty, and spread them out in vivid 
 reality before her eye. At times she almost 
 forgot that she was a captive. Well might she 
 have exclaimed, in the language of M ma An- 
 toinette, *' What a resource, amid tue calami- 
 ties of life, is a highly-cultivated mind !" 
 
 A few devoted friends periled their own livet 
 by gaining occasional access to her. On i ing
 
 1793.] PRISON LIFE. 255 
 
 If ore comfortable apartment!. Kindness if the Jailer's wife. 
 
 the dark hours of that reign of terror and of 
 blood, no crime was more unpardonable than 
 the manifestation of sympathy for the accused. 
 These friends, calling as often as prudence 
 would allow, brought to her presents of fruit 
 and of flowers. At last the jailer's wife, una- 
 ble to resist the pleadings of her own heart for 
 one whom she could not but love and admire, 
 ventured to remove her to a more comfortable 
 apartment, where the daylight shone brightly 
 in through the iron bars of the window. Here 
 she could see the clouds and the birds soaring 
 in the free air. She was even allowed, through 
 her friends, to procure a piano-forte, which af- 
 forded her many hours of recreation. Music, 
 drawing, and flowers were the embellishments 
 of her life. Madame Bouchaud, the wife of 
 the jailer, conceived for her prisoner the kind- 
 est affection, and daily visited her, doing ev- 
 ery thing in her power to alleviate the bitter- 
 ness of her imprisonment. At last her sym- 
 pathies were so aroused, that, regardless of all 
 prudential considerations, she offered to aid her 
 in making her escape. Madame Roland was 
 deeply moved by this proof of devotion, and, 
 though she was fully aware that she must soon 
 plac*< her head upon the scaffold, she firmly re-
 
 256 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Madamti Roland entreated to escape. Rlgorou* treatinent 
 
 fused all entreaties to escape in any way *t ich 
 might endanger her friend. Others united with 
 Madame Bouohaud in entreating her to accept 
 of her generous offer. Their effort*, were en- 
 tirely unavailing. She preferred to die hersell 
 rather than to incur the possibility of exposing 
 those who loved her to the guillotine. The kind- 
 ness with which Madame Roland was treated 
 was soon spied out by those in power. The 
 jailer was severely reprimanded, and ordered 
 immediately to remove the piano- forte from the 
 room, and to confine Madame Roland rigorous- 
 ly in her cell. This change did not disturb the 
 equanimity of her spirit. She had studied so 
 deeply and admired so profoundly all that was 
 noble in the most illustrious characters of an- 
 tiquity, that her mind instinctively assumed 
 the same model. She found elevated enjoy- 
 ment in triumphing over every earthly ill. 
 
 An English lady, then residing in France, 
 who had often visited her in the days of her 
 power, when her home presented all that earth 
 could give of, splendor, and when wealth and 
 rank were bowing obsequiously around her, 
 thus describes a visit which she paid to her cell 
 in these dark day& of adversity. 
 
 " T visited her in the prison of Sainte Pela
 
 I79J.J PRISON Lir*. 357 
 
 rutt of an EngUih lady. Klndoau of the Jailer* 
 
 gie, where her soul, superior to circumstances, 
 retained its accustomed serenity, and she con- 
 versed with the same animated cheerfulness in 
 her cheerless dudgeon as she used to do in the 
 hotel of the minister. She had provided her- 
 self with a few books, and I found her reading 
 Plutarch. She told me that she expected to die, 
 and the look of placid resignation with which 
 she said it convinced me that she was prepared 
 to meet death with a firmness worthy of her ex- 
 alted character. When I inquired after her 
 daughter, an only child of thirteen years of age, 
 she burst into tears ; and, at the overwhelming 
 recollection of her husband and child, the courr 
 age of the victim of liberty was lost in the feel- 
 ings of the wife and the mother." 
 
 The rr erciless commissioners had ordered her 
 to be incarcerated in a cell which no beam of 
 light could penetrate. But her compassionate 
 keepers ventured to misunderstand the orders, 
 and to place her in a room where a few rays of 
 the morning sun could struggle through the 
 grated windows, and where the light of day, 
 though seen but dimly, might still, in some de- 
 gree, cheef those eyes so soon to be closed for 
 ever. The soul, instinctively appreciative of 
 beauty, will under the most adverse circum 
 
 1817
 
 258 MADAME ROLAND. [179& 
 
 Cheerful Mpct of lUdam* Roland'* ce.T Hnr1tto CutMl 
 
 stances, evoke congenial visions. Her friends 
 brought her flowers, of which from childhood 
 she had been most passionately fond. These 
 cherished plants seemed to comprehend and re- 
 quite unaffected love. At the iron window of 
 her prison they appeared to grow with the joy 
 and luxuriance of gratitude. With intertwin- 
 ing leaf and blossom, they concealed the rusty 
 bars, till they changed the aspect of the grated 
 cell into a garden bower, where birds might 
 nestle and sing, and poets might love to linger. 
 When in the convent, she had formed a strong 
 attachment for one of her companions, which 
 the lapse of time had not diminished. Through 
 all the vicissitudes of their lives they had kept 
 up a constant correspondence. This friend, 
 Henriette Cannet, one day obtained access to 
 her prison, and, in the exercise of that roman- 
 tic friendship of which this world can present 
 but few parallels, urged Madame Roland to ex- 
 change garments with her, and thus escape from 
 prison and the scaffold. " If you remain," said 
 Henriette, " ^our death is inevitable If I re- 
 main in your place, they will not take my life, 
 out, after a short imprisonment, I shall be lib- 
 erated. None fear me, and I am too obscure to 
 attract attention in these troubled times. I.''
 
 1793.] PRISON LIFE. 
 
 Vain eBtrMttM. Rotoptam to the iiatik of Mb pown 
 
 she oontinned, "am a widow, r*nd childless 
 There are no responsibilities which claim my 
 wime. You have a husband, advanced in years, 
 and a lovely little child, both needing your ut- 
 most care." Thus she pleaded with her to ex- 
 change attire, and endeavor to escape. But 
 neither prayers nor tears availed. " They would 
 kill thee, my good Henriette !" exclaimed Ma- 
 dame Roland, embracing her friend with tears 
 of emotion. " Thy blood would ever rest on 
 me. Sooner would I suffer a thousand deaths 
 than reproach myself with thine." Henriette, 
 finding all her entreaties in vain, sadly bade her 
 adieu, and was never permitted to see her more. 
 Robespierre was now in the zenith of his pow- 
 er. He was the arbiter of life and death. One 
 word from him would restore Madame Roland 
 to liberty. But he had steeled his heart against 
 every sentiment of humanity, and was not will 
 ing to deprive the guillotine of a single victim 
 One day Madame Roland was lying sick in the 
 Infirmary of the prison. A physician attended 
 her, who styled himself the friend of Robes- 
 pierre The mention of his name recalled to 
 her remembrance their early friendship, and her 
 own exertions to save his life when it was ix 
 imminent peril. This suggested to aer tne laea
 
 JJC2 MADAMB ROLAND. [17UIJ 
 
 MaduM RoUnd'f letter to Robespierre. 
 
 of writing to him. She obeyed the impulse, 
 and wrote as follows : 
 
 " Robespierre ! I am about to put you to tha 
 proof, and to repeat to you what I said respect- 
 ing your character to the friend who has under- 
 taken to deliver this letter. You may be very 
 sure that it is no suppliant who addresses you. 
 I never asked a favor yet of any human being, 
 and it is not from the depths of a prison I would 
 supplicate him who could, if he pleased, restore 
 me to liberty. No ! prayers and entreaties be- 
 long to the guilty or to slaves. Neither would 
 murmurs or complaints accord with my nature. 
 I know how to bear all. I also well know that 
 at the beginning of every republic the revolu- 
 tions which effected them have invariably se- 
 lected the principal actors in the change as their 
 victims. It is their fate to experience this, as 
 it becomes the task of the historian to avenge 
 their memories. Still I am at a ioss to imagine 
 how I, a mere woman, should oe exposed to the 
 *ury of a storm, ordinarily suffered to expend 
 tseli upon the great leaders of a revolution 
 You, Robespierre, were well acquainted with 
 my husband, and I defy you to say that yon 
 ever thought him other than an honorable man 
 He had all tha roughness of virtue, even as CaU
 
 1793.] PRISON LIFE. 263 
 
 Miidajiie Roland'* letter to Robeipierr*. 
 
 possessed its asperity. Disgusted with busi- 
 ness, irritated by persecution, weary of the 
 world, and worn out with years and exertions, 
 he desired only to bury himself and his troubles 
 hi some unknown spot, and to conceal himself 
 there to save the age he lived in from the com- 
 mission of a crime. 
 
 " My pretended confederacy would be amus- 
 ing, were it not too serious a matter for a jest. 
 Whence, then, arises that degree of animosity 
 manifested toward me ? I never injured a creat- 
 ure in my life, and can not find it in my heart 
 to wish evil even to those who injure and op- 
 press me. Brought up in solitude, my mind 
 directed to serious studies, of simple tastes, an 
 enthusiastic admirer of the Revolution^-exclud- 
 ed, by my sex, from participating in public af- 
 fairs, yet taking delight in conversing of them 
 I despised the first calumnies circulated re- 
 specting me, attributing them to the envy felt 
 by the ignorant and low-minded at what they 
 were pleased to style my elevated position, but 
 to which I infinitely preferred the peaceful ob- 
 sonrity in which I had passed so many happy 
 days. 
 
 "Yet I have now been for five months the 
 inhabitant of a orison, torn from my beloved
 
 264 MADAMK ROLAND. 
 
 Roland'* letter to Robespierre. 
 
 child, whose innocent head may never more be 
 pillowed upon a mother's breast ; far from all I 
 hold dear ; the mark for the invectives of a mis- 
 taken people ; constrained to hear the very sen- 
 tinels, as they keep watch beneath my win- 
 dows, discussing the subject of my approaching 
 execution, and outraged by reading the violent 
 and disgusting diatribes poured forth against 
 me by hirelings of the press, who have never 
 once beheld me. I have wearied no one with 
 requests, petitions, or demands. On the con- 
 trary, I feel proudly equal to battle with my 
 own ill fortune, and it may be to trample it un- 
 der my feet. 
 
 " Robespierre ! I send not this softened pic- 
 ture of nry condition to excite your pity. No ! 
 noh a sentiment, expressed by you, would not 
 only offend me, but be rejected as it deserves. 
 I write for your edification. Fortune is fickle 
 popular favor equally so. Look at the fate 
 of those who led on the revolutions of former 
 ages the idols of the people, and afterward theii 
 governors fijom Vitellius to Caesar, or from 
 Hippo, the orator of Syracuse, down to our Pa- 
 risian speakers. Scylla and Marius proscribed 
 thousands of knights and senators, besides a vast 
 number of other unfortunate beings ; but
 
 1793.] PRISON LIFE. 366 
 
 Madame Roland letter to Robecptarft. 
 
 they enabled to prevent history from handing 
 down their names to the just execration of pos- 
 terity, and did they themselves enjoy happi- 
 aess ? Whatever may be the fate awarded to 
 me, 1 shall know how to submit to it in a man- 
 ner worthy of myself, or to anticipate it should 
 I deem it advisable. After receiving the hon- 
 ors of persecution, am I to expect the still great- 
 er one of martyrdom ? Speak ! It is something 
 to know your fate, and a spirit such as mine 
 can boldly face it, be it as it may. Should you 
 bestow upon my letter a fair and impartial pe- 
 rusal, it will neither be useless to you nor to 
 my country. But, under any circumstances, 
 this I say, Robespierre and you can not deny 
 the truth of my assertion none who have ever 
 known me can persecute me without a feeling 
 of remorse." 
 
 Madame Roland preferred to die rather than 
 to owe her life to the compassion of her ene- 
 mies Could she obtain a triumphant acquit- 
 tal, through the force of her own integrity, she 
 would greatly exult. But her imperial spirit 
 would not stoop to the acceptance of a pardon 
 from those who deserved the execrations of man- 
 kind; such a pardon she would have torn in
 
 266 MADAME ROLAND. [1793, 
 
 Bmpporti of philosophy. Influence of the BLomaa Catholic nlUiom 
 
 fragments, and have stepped resolutely upon the 
 scaffold. 
 
 There is something cold and chilling in the 
 supports which pride and philosophy alone can 
 afford under the calamities of life. Madame 
 Roland had met with Christianity only as it ap- 
 peared in the pomp and parade of the Catholic 
 Church, and in the openly-dissolute lives of its 
 ignorant or voluptuous priesthood. While her 
 poetic temperament was moved by the sublime 
 conception of a God ruling over the world of 
 matter and the world of mind, revealed relig- 
 ion, as her spirit encountered it, consisted only 
 in gorgeous pageants, and ridiculous dogmas, 
 and puerile traditions. The spirit of piety and 
 pure devotion she could admire. Her natural 
 temperament was serious, reflective, and pray- 
 erful. Her mind, so far as religion was con- 
 cerned, was very much in the state of that of 
 any intellectual, high-minded, uncorruptible Ro- 
 man, who renounced, without opposing, the idol- 
 atry of the benighted multitude; who groped 
 painfully for some revelation of God and of 
 truth ; who at 'times believed fully in a superin- 
 tending providence, and again had fears wheth- 
 er there ware any God or any immortality. ID 
 the processions, the relics, the grotesque garb.
 
 1793.J PRISON LIFB. 267 
 
 Energy of if (dime Roland. She prepare* for rolnntary death. 
 
 and the spiritual terrors wielded by the Roman 
 Catholic priesthood, she could behold but bare- 
 faced deception. The papal system appeared 
 to her but as a colossal monster, oppressing the 
 people with hideous superstition, and sustain- 
 ing, with its superhuman energies, the corrup- 
 tion of the nobles and of the throne. In reject- 
 ing this system, she had no friend to conduct her 
 to the warm, sheltered, and congenial retreats 
 of evangelical piety. She was led almost inev- 
 itably, by the philosophy of the times, to those 
 chilling, barren, storm-swept heights, where the 
 soul can find no shelter but in its own indom- 
 itable energies of endurance. These energies 
 Madame Roland displayed in such a degree as 
 to give her a name among the very first of those 
 in any age who by heroism have shed lu c i 
 
 human nature. 
 
 Under the influence of these feelings, she 
 came to the conclusion that it would be mor 
 honorable for her to die by her own hand than 
 to be dragged to the guillotine by her foes. She 
 obtained some poison, and sat down calmly to 
 write her last thoughts, and her last messages 
 of love, before she should plunge into the deep 
 mystery of the unknown. There is something 
 exceedingly affecting in the vague and shadowy
 
 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Madame Roland' t prayer. Mote* to hw kubtMd and child 
 
 p ayer which she offered on this occasion. It 
 betrays a painful uncertainty whether there 
 were any superintending Deity to hear her cry, 
 and yet it was the soul's instinctive breathings 
 for a support higher and holier than could be 
 found within itself. 
 
 " Divinity ! Supreme Being ! Spirit of the 
 Universe ! great principle of all that 1 feel great, 
 or good, or immortal within myself whose ex- 
 istence I believe in, because I must have ema- 
 nated from something superior to that by which 
 I am surrounded I am about to reunite my- 
 self to "thy essence." In her farewell note to 
 her husband, she writes, " Forgive me, my es- 
 teemed and justly-honored husband, for taking 
 upon myself to dispose of a life I had consecrat- 
 ed to you. Believe me, I could have loved life 
 and you better for your misfortunes, had I been 
 permitted to share them with you. At pres- 
 ent, by my death, you are only freed from a 
 useless object of unavailing anguish." 
 
 All the fountains of a mother's love gush forth 
 is she writes to her idolized Eudora : " Pardon 
 me, my beloved child, my sweet daughter, whoso 
 gentle image dwells within my heart, and whose 
 rery remembrance shake* my sternest resolu- 
 tion. Never would your fond mother have left
 
 1793.) PRISON LIFE. 269 
 
 Apostrophe to friend*. Farewell to Natur* 
 
 you helpless in the world, could she but have 
 remained to guide and guard you." 
 
 Then, apostrophizing her friends, she ex- 
 claims, " And you, my cherished friends, trans- 
 fer to my motherless child the affection you 
 have ever manifested for me. Grieve not at a 
 resolution which ends my many and severe tri- 
 als. You know me too well to believe that 
 weakness or terror have instigated the step I 
 am about to take." 
 
 She made her will, bequeathing such trifling 
 souvenirs of affection as still remained in her 
 possession to her daughter, her friends, and her 
 servants. She then reverted to all she had lov 
 ed and admired of the beauties of nature, and 
 which she was now to leave forever. " Fare- 
 well !" she wrote, " farewell, glorious sun ! that 
 never failed to gild my windows with thy gold- 
 en rays, ere thou hiddest thy brightness in the 
 heavens. Adieu, ye lonely banks of the Saone, 
 whose wild beauty a-uld fill my heart with such 
 deep delight. And you too, poor but honest 
 people of Thizy, whose labors I lightened, whose 
 distress I relieved, and whose sick beds 1 tend- 
 ed farewell ! Adieu, oh ! peaceful chambers 
 of ray childhood, where I learned to love virtue 
 truth where my imagination found in
 
 270 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Maternal lore trtompk*. The (truggl* ended 
 
 books and study the food to delight it, and 
 where I learned in silence to command my 
 passions and to despise my vanity. Again 
 farewell, my child ! Remember your mother 
 Doubtless your fate will be less severe than 
 hers. Adieu, beloved child ! whom I nourished 
 at my breast, and earnestly desired to imbue 
 with every feeling and opinion I myself enter- 
 tained." 
 
 The cup of poison was in her hand. In her 
 heart there was no consciousness that she should 
 violate the command of any higher power by 
 drinking it. But love for her child triumphed. 
 The smile of Eudora rose before her, and for 
 ner sake she clung to life. She threw away 
 the poison, resolved never again to think of a 
 voluntary withdrawal from the cares and sor- 
 rows of her earthly lot, but with unwavering 
 fortitude to surrender herself to those influences 
 over which she could no longer exert any con- 
 trol. This brief conflict ended, she resumed 
 her wonted composure and cheerfulness. 
 
 Tacitus was now her favorite author. Honre 
 and days she passed in studying his glowing de 
 criptions of heroic character and deeds. He* 
 roisin became her religion; magnanimity and 
 fortitude the idol* of her sotd. With a | listen-
 
 17S/3.] PRISON LIFE. 271 
 
 {toccrtpttuu of Tacltu*. Madame Roland wrltM her memoir* 
 
 ing eye and a bosom throbbing with lofty emo- 
 tion, she meditated npon his graphic paintings 
 of the martyrdom of patriots and philosophers, 
 where the soul, by its inherent energies, tri- 
 umphed over obloquy, and pain, and death 
 Anticipating that each day might conduct her 
 to the scaffold, she led her spirit through all the 
 possible particulars of the tragic drama, that 
 she might become familiar with terror, and look 
 upon the block and the ax with an undaunted 
 eye. 
 
 Many hours of every day she beguiled in 
 writing the memoirs of her own life. It was 
 an eloquent and a touching narrative, written 
 with the expectation that each sentence might 
 be interrupted by the entrance of the execu- 
 tioners to conduct her to trial and to the guil- 
 lotine. In this unveiling of the heart to the 
 world, one sees a noble nature, generous and 
 strong, animated to benevolence by native gen- 
 erosity, and nerved to resignation by fatalism. 
 The consciousness of spiritual elevation consti- 
 tuted her only religion and her only solace. The 
 anticipation of a lofty reputation after death 
 was her only heaven. The Christian must pity 
 while ho must admire. No one can read the 
 thoughts he penned bat with the deepest emo- 
 tion.
 
 272 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 The i plrlt wtnden among happier *cene*. 
 
 Now her mind wanders to the hours of hei 
 precocious and dreamy childhood, and lingers 
 in her little chamber, gazing upon the golden 
 sunset, and her eye is bathed in tears as she re 
 fleets upon her early home, desolated by death, 
 and still inure desolated by that unhonored union 
 which the infidelity of the times tolerated, when 
 one took the position o e the wife unblessed by the 
 sanction of Heaven. Again her spirit wings its 
 flight through the gloomy bars of the prison to 
 the beautiful rural home to which her bridal 
 introduced her, where she spent her happiest 
 years, and she forgets the iron, and the stone, 
 and the dungeon-glooms which surround her, 
 as in imagination she walks again among her 
 flowers and through the green fields, and, at the 
 vintage, eats the rich, ripe clusters of the grape 
 Her pleasant household cares, her dairy, the do- 
 mestic fowls recognizing her voice, and fed from 
 her own hand ; her library and her congenia 
 intellectual pursuits rise bef( re her, an entranc- 
 ing vision, and she mourns, like Eve, the los? 
 >f Eden. The days of celebrity and of powei 
 engross her thoughts. Her husband is again 
 minister of the king. The most influential 
 rtatesmen and brilliant orators are gathered 
 around her chair. Her mind is guiding th
 
 1793.] PRISON LIFE. 278 
 
 Striking contrasts. Madame Roland conveyed to the Conciergerie 
 
 surging billows of the Revolution, and iuflueno- 
 ing the decisions of the proudest thrones of 
 Europe. 
 
 The slightest movement dispels the illusion. 
 From dreams she awakes to reality. She is a 
 prisoner in a gloomy cell of stone and iron, from 
 which there is no possible extrication. A bloody 
 death awaits her. Her husband is a fugitive, 
 pursued by human blood-hounds more merci- 
 less than the brute. Her daughter, the object 
 of her most idolatrous love, is left fatherless and 
 motherless in this cold world. The guillotine 
 has already consigned many of those whom she 
 loved best to the grave. But a few more days 
 of sorrow can dimly struggle through her pris- 
 on windows ere she must be conducted to the 
 scaffold. Woman's nature triumphs over phil- 
 osophic fortitude, and she finds momentary re- 
 lief in a flood of tears. 
 
 The Girondists were led from their dungeons 
 in the Conciergerie to their execution on th 
 31st of October, 1793. Upon that very day 
 Madame Roland was conveyed from the prison 
 of St. Pelagie to the same gloomy cells vacated 
 by the death of her friends. She was cast into 
 a bare and miserable dungeon, in that subter- 
 ranean receptacle of woe, where there was not 
 1818
 
 274 MADAME ROLANB. [1793 
 
 Dlraal eelL IVsseription of the Condra-gerU 
 
 even a bed. Another prisoner, moved with com- 
 passion, drew his own pallet into her cell, that 
 she might not be compelled to throw herself for 
 repose upon the cold, wet stones. The chill air 
 of winter had now come, and yet no covering 
 was allowed her. Through the long night she 
 shivered with the cold. 
 
 The prison of the Conciergerie consists of a 
 series of dark and damp subterranean vaults sit- 
 uated beneath the floor of the Palace of Justice. 
 Imagination can conceive of nothing more disma* 
 than these somber caverns, with long and wind- 
 ing galleries opening into cells as dark as the 
 tomb. You descend by a flight of massive stone 
 steps into this sepulchral abode, and, passing 
 through double doors, whose iron strength time 
 has deformed but not weakened, you enter upon 
 the vast labyrinthine prison, where the imag- 
 ination wanders affrighted through intricate 
 mazes of halls, and arches, and vaults, and dun 
 geons, rendered only more appalling by the dim 
 light which struggles through those grated ori- 
 fices which pierced the massive walls.'' The 
 Seine flows by upon one side, separated only by 
 the high way of the quays. The bed of the 
 Seme is above the floor of the prison. The sur- 
 rounding earth was consequently saturated with
 
 1793.] Pa i sow Lirfc. 
 
 Marrow conrtt. Quadrangular toww 
 
 water, and the oozing moisture diffused over the 
 walls and the floors the humidity of the sepul- 
 oher. The plash of the river ; the rumbling of 
 carts upon the pavements overhead; the heavy 
 tramp of countless footfalls, as the multitude 
 poured into and out of the halls of justice, min- 
 gled with the moaning of the prisoners in those 
 solitary cells. There were one or two narrow 
 courts scattered in this vast structure, where 
 the prisoners could look up the precipitous 
 walls, as of a well, towering high above them, 
 and see a few square yards of sky. The gi- 
 gantic quadrangular tower, reared above these 
 firm foundations, was formerly the imperial pal- 
 ace from which issued all power and law. Here 
 the French kings reveled in voluptuousness, 
 with their prisoners groaning beneath their feet 
 This strong-hold of feudalism had now become 
 the tomb of the monarchy. In one of the most 
 loathsome of these cells, Maria Antoinette, the 
 daughter of the Ceesars, had languished in mis- 
 ery as profound as mortals can suffer, till, in the 
 endurance of every conceivable insult, she was 
 dragged to the guillotine. 
 
 It was into a cell adjoining that which the 
 hapless queen had occupied that Madame Ro- 
 land wa oast. Here the proud daughter of the
 
 276 MADAME ROLAND. (1793 
 
 Fhe daughter of the Cecan. The daughter of the 
 
 emperors of Austria and the humble child of 
 the artisan, each, after a career of unexampled 
 vicissitudes, found their paths to meet but a 
 few steps from the scaffold. The victim of the 
 monarchy and the victim of the Revolution 
 were conducted to the same dungeons and per- 
 ished on the same block. They met as an- 
 tagonists in the stormy arena of the French 
 Revolution. They were nearly of equal age. 
 The one possessed the prestige of wealth, and 
 rank, and ancestral power ; the other, the en- 
 ergy of vigorous and cultivated mind. Both 
 were endowed with unusual attractions of per- 
 son, spirits invigorated by enthusiasm, and the 
 loftiest heroism. From the antagonism of life 
 they met in death.
 
 I793.J TRIAL AND EXECUTION. 277 
 
 f cjuxiination of Madame Roland. Her eitrxroi for the Glrondlita 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 TKIAL AND EXECUTION OF MADAME RO- 
 LAND. 
 
 HE day after Madame Roland was placed 
 in the Conoiergerie, she was visited by one 
 of the notorious officers of the revolutionary 
 party, and very closely questioned concerning 
 the friendship she had entertained for the Gi- 
 rondists. She frankly avowed the elevated af- 
 fection and esteem with which she cherished 
 their memory, but she declared that she and 
 they were the cordial friends of republican lib- 
 erty ; that they wished to preserve, not to de- 
 stroy, the Constitution. The examination was 
 vexatious and intolerant in the extreme. It 
 lasted for three hours, and consisted in an in- 
 cessant torrent of criminations, to which she 
 was hardly permitted to offer one word in re- 
 aly. This examination taught her the nature 
 of the accusations which would be brought 
 against her. She sat down in her cell that 
 very night, and, with a rapid pen, sketched that 
 defense which has been pronounced one of the
 
 MADAME ROLANI* [1793 
 
 Eloquent defense of Madame Roland. 
 
 most eloquent and touching monuments of the 
 Revolution. It so beautifully illustrates the 
 heroism of her character, the serenity of her 
 spirit, and the beauty and energy of her men- 
 tal operations, that it will ever be read with the 
 liveliest interest. 
 
 " I am accused," she writes, " of being the 
 accomplice of men called conspirators. My in- 
 timacy with a few of these gentlemen is of much 
 older date than the occurrences in consequence 
 of which they are now deemed rebels. Our 
 correspondence, since they left Paris, has been 
 entirely foreign to public affairs. Properly 
 speaking, I have been engaged in no political 
 correspondence whatever, and in that respect I 
 might confine myself to a simple denial. I cer- 
 tainly can not be called upon to give an account 
 of my particular affections. I have, however, 
 the right to be proud of these friendships. I 
 glory in them. I wish to conceal nothing. I 
 acknowledge that, with expressions of regret at 
 my confinement, I received an intimation that 
 Duperiet had two letters for me, whether writ- 
 ten by one or by two of my friends, before or 
 after their leaving Paris, I can not say. Du- 
 perret had delivered them into other hands, and 
 they never came to mine. Another time I re-
 
 1793.] TRIAL IND EZKCUTIOM. 279 
 
 Madame Roland's reasons for not escaping. 
 
 oeived a pressing invitation to break my chains, 
 and an offer of services, to assist me in effect- 
 ing my escape in any way I might think prop- 
 er, and to convey me whithersoever I might 
 afterward wish to go. I was dissuaded from 
 listening to such proposals by duty and by hon- 
 or : by duty, that I might not endanger the 
 safety of those to whose care I was confided ; 
 and by honor, because I preferred the risk of an 
 unjust trial to exposing myself to the suspicion 
 of guilt by a flight unworthy of me. When I 
 consented to my arrest, it was not with the in- 
 tention of afterward making my escape. With- 
 out doubt, if all means of communication had 
 not been cut off, or if I had not been prevented 
 oy confinement, I should have endeavored to 
 earn what had become of my friends. I know 
 of no law by which my doing so is forbidden 
 In what age or in what nation was it ever con- 
 sidered a crime to be faithful to those senti- 
 ments of esteem and brotherly affection which 
 bind man to man ? 
 
 " I do not pretend to judge of the measure* 
 of those who have been proscribed, but I will 
 never believe hi the evil intentions of rnen of 
 whose probity and patriotism I am thoroughly 
 convinced. If they erred, it was unintention-
 
 280 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Madame Roland's opinion of the Girondists. 
 
 ally. They fall without being abased, and I 
 regard them as being unfortunate without be- 
 ing liable to blame. I am perfectly easy as to 
 their glory, and willingly consent to participate 
 in the honor of being oppressed by their ene- 
 mies. They are accused of having conspired 
 against their country, but I know that they 
 were firm friends of the Republic. They were, 
 however, humane men, and were persuaded that 
 good laws were necessary to procure the Repub 
 lie the good will of persons who doubted wheth- 
 er the Republic could be maintained. It is 
 more difficult to conciliate than to kill. The 
 history of every age proves that it requires great 
 talents to lead men to virtue by wise institu- 
 tions, while force suffices to oppress them by 
 terror, or to annihilate them by death. I have 
 often heard them assert that abundance, as well 
 as happiness, can only proceed from an equi- 
 table, protecting, and beneficent government 
 The omnipotence of the bayonet may produce 
 fear, but not bread. I have seen them anima 
 ted by the most lively enthusiasm for the good 
 of the people, disdaining to flatter them, and 
 resolved rather to fall victims to their delusion 
 than to be the means of keeping it up. I con- 
 fess that these principles and this conduct ap.
 
 1793.] TRIAL AND EXECUTION. SJ81 
 
 Madame Roland's opinion of the Revolution. 
 
 peared to me totally different from the senti- 
 ments and proceedings of tyrants, or ambitions 
 men, who seek to please the people to effect 
 their subjugation. It inspired me with the 
 highest esteem for those generous men. This 
 arror, if an error it be, will accompany me to 
 the grave, whither 1 shall be proud of follow- 
 ing those whom I was not permitted to accom- 
 oany. 
 
 " My defense is more important for those who 
 wish for the truth than it is for myself. Calm 
 and contented in the consciousness of having 
 done my duty, I look forward to futurity with 
 perfect peace of mind. My serious turn and 
 studious habits have preserved me alike from 
 the follies of dissipation and from the bustle of 
 intrigue. A friend to liberty, on which reflec- 
 tion had taught me to set a just value, I beheld 
 the Revolution with delight, persuaded it was 
 destined to put an end to the arbitrary power I 
 detested, and to the abuses I had so often la 
 mented, when reflecting with pity upon the in- 
 digent classes of society. I took an interest in 
 the progress of the Revolution, and spoke with 
 warmth of public affairs, but I did not pass the 
 oounds prescribed by my sex. Some small tal- 
 ents, a considerable share of philosophy, a de>
 
 282 MADAMS ROLAND. {1793 
 
 Mmdune Roland estimate of her husband. 
 
 gree of courage more uncommon, and which 
 did not permit me to weaken my husband's en- 
 ergy in dangerous times such, perhaps, are the 
 qualities which those who know me may have 
 indiscreetly extolled, and which may have made 
 me enemies among those to whom I am un- 
 known. M. Roland sometimes employed me aa 
 a secretary, and the famous letter to the king, 
 for instance, is copied entirely in my hand- writ- 
 ing. This would be an excellent item to add to 
 my indictment, if the Austrians were trying me, 
 and if they should have thought fit to extend a 
 minister's responsibility to his wife. But M 
 Roland long ago manifested his knowledge of, 
 and his attachment to, the great principles of 
 political economy. The proof is to be found in 
 his numerous works published during the last 
 fifteen years His learning and his probity are 
 all his own. He stood in no need of a wife to 
 make him an able minister. Never were se- 
 cret councils held at his house. His colleagues 
 and a few friends met once a week at his table, 
 and there conversed, in a public manner, on 
 matters in which every body was concerned. 
 His writings, which breathe throughout a love 
 of order and peace, and which enforce the best 
 principles of public prosperity and morals, will
 
 I793J TRIAL AND EXECUTION. 23 
 
 Madame Roland's correspondence with Duperret 
 
 forever attest his wisdom. His accounts prove 
 his integrity. 
 
 " As to the offense imputed to me, I observe 
 that I never was intimate with Duperret. 1 
 saw him occasionally at the time of M. Roland's 
 administration. He never came to our house 
 during the six months that my husband was no 
 longer in office. The same remark will apply 
 to other membe'rs, our friends, which surely 
 does not accord with the plots and conspiracies 
 laid to our charge. It is evident, by my first 
 letter to Duperret, I only wrote to him because 
 I knew not to whom else to address myself, and 
 because I imagined he would readily consent to 
 oblige me. My correspondence with him could 
 not, then, be concerted. It could not be the con- 
 sequence of any previous intimacy, and could 
 have only one object hi view. It gave me aft- 
 erward an opportunity of receiving accounts 
 from those who had just absented themselves, 
 and with whom I was connected by the ties of 
 friendship, independently of all political consid- 
 erations. The latter were totally out of the 
 question in the kind of correspondence I kept 
 up with them during the early part of their 
 absence. No written memorial bears witness 
 against me in that respect. Those adduced
 
 884 MADAME ROLAND. [1793. 
 
 Effects of prejudice! and violent animosities. 
 
 only lead to the belief that I partook of the opin- 
 ions and sentiments of the persons called con- 
 spirators. This deduction is well founded. I 
 confess it without reserve. I am proud of the 
 conformity. But I never manifested my opin- 
 ion in a way which can be construed into a crime, 
 or which tended to occasion any disturbance. 
 Now, to become an accomplice in any plan 
 whatever, it is necessary to give advice, or to 
 furnish means of execution. I have done nei- 
 ther. There is no law to condemn me. 
 
 " I know that, in revolutions, law as well as 
 justice is often forgotten, and the proof of it is 
 that I am here. I owe my trial to nothing but 
 the prejudices and violent animosities which 
 arise in times of great agitation, and which are 
 generally directed against those who have been 
 placed in conspicuous situations, or are known 
 to possess any energy or spirit. It would have 
 been easy for my courage to put rne out of the 
 reach of the sentence which I foresaw would 
 be pronounced against me. But I thought it 
 rather, became' me to undergo that sentence. I 
 thought that I owed the example to my coun- 
 try. I thought that if I were to be condemned, 
 it must be right to leave to tyranny all the odi- 
 um of MLcrifioing a woman, whose crime is thai
 
 1793.J TRIAL AND EXECUTION. 286 
 
 Madam* Roland avows her opinion*. 
 
 of possessing some small talent, which she never 
 misapplied, a zealous desire to promote the wel- 
 fare of mankind, and courage enough to ac- 
 knowledge her friends when in misfortune, and 
 to dc homage to virtue at the risk of life. Minds 
 which have any claim to greatness are capable 
 of divesting themselves of selfish considerations. 
 They feel that they belong to the whole human 
 race. Their views are directed to posterity. I 
 am the wife of a virtuous man exposed to per- 
 secution. I was the friend of men who have 
 been proscribed and immolated by delusion, and 
 the hatred of jealous mediocrity. It is necessa- 
 ry that I should perish in my turn, because it 
 is a rule with tyranny to sacrifice those whom 
 it has grievously oppressed, and to annihilate 
 the very witnesses of its misdeeds. I have this 
 double claim to death at your hands, and I ex 
 peot it. When innocence walks to the scaffold 
 *t the command of error and perversity, every 
 step she takes is an advance toward glory. May 
 \ be the last victim sacrificed to the furious spirit 
 of party. I shall leave with joy this unfortu- 
 nate earth, which swallows up the friends of 
 virtue and drinks the blood of the just. 
 
 " Truth ! friendship ! my country ! sacred 
 objects, sentiments dear to my heart, accept mv
 
 286 MADAME ROLAND. [1793. 
 
 Madame Roland's apostrophe to Liberty. 
 
 last sacrifice. My life was devoted to you, and 
 you will render my death easy and glorious. 
 
 " Just Heaven ! enlighten this unfortunate 
 people for whom I desired liberty. Liberty ! it 
 is for noble minds, who despise death, and who 
 know how, upon occasion, to give it to them- 
 selves. It is not for weak beings, who enter 
 into a composition with guilt, and cover selfish- 
 ness and cowardice with the name of prudence. 
 It is not for corrupt wretches, who rise from the 
 bed of debauchery, or from the mire of indi- 
 gence, to feast their eyes upon the blood that 
 streams from the scaffold. It is the portion of 
 a people who delight in humanity, practice just- 
 ice, despise their flatterers, and respect the truth. 
 While you are not such a people, O my fellow- 
 citizens ! you will talk in vain of liberty. In- 
 stead of liberty you will have licentiousness, to 
 which you will all fall victims in your turn. 
 You will ask for bread ; dead bodies will be 
 given you, and you at last will bow down your 
 own necks to the yoke. 
 
 " I have neither concealed my sentiments noi 
 my opinions. I know that a Roman lady waa 
 sent to the scaffold for lamenting the death of 
 her son. I know that, in times of delusion and 
 party rage, he who dares avow himself the friend
 
 1793.] TRIAL AND EXECUTION. 28? 
 
 Repeated exainkifitiona. Madame Roland's elf-poMion. 
 
 of the condemned or of the proscribed exposes 
 himself to their fate. But I have no fear of 
 death. I never feared any thing but guilt, and 
 I will not purchase life at the expense of a base 
 subterfuge. Woe to the times ! woe to the peo- 
 ple among whom doing homage to disregarded 
 truth can be attended with danger; and hap- 
 py is he who, in such circumstances, is bold 
 enough to brave it. 
 
 " It is now your part to see whether it an- 
 swer your purpose to condemn me without proof 
 upon mere matter of opinion, and without the 
 support or justification of any law." 
 
 Having concluded this magnanimous defense, 
 which she wrote in one evening with the rapid- 
 ity which characterized all her mental opera- 
 tions, she retired to rest, and slept with the se- 
 renity of a child. She was called upon several 
 times by committees sent from the revolution- 
 ary tribunal for examination. They were re- 
 solved to take her life, but were anxious to do 
 tt, if possible, under the forms of law. She 
 passed through all their examinations with thf. 
 iriost perfect composure and the most dignified 
 elf-possession. Her enemies could not with- 
 hold their expressions of admiration as they s&vi 
 bar in her sepulchral cell of stone and of iron,
 
 288 MADAMS ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Mtihrno Roland's enthwUun. Her Influence apo UK prifoom 
 
 cheerful, fascinating, and perfectly at ease. She 
 knew that she was to be led from that cell to a 
 violent death, and yet no faltering of soul could 
 bo detected. Her spirit had apparently achieved 
 * perfect victory over all earthly ills. 
 
 The upper part of the door of her cell was an 
 iron grating. The surrounding cells were filled 
 w th the most illustrious ladies and gentlemen 
 of France. As the hour of death drew near, 
 her courage and animation seemed to increase. 
 Her features glowed with enthusiasm ; her 
 thoughts and expressions were refulgent with 
 sublimity, and her whole aspect assumed the 
 impress of one appointed to fill some great and 
 lofty destiny. She remained but a few days in 
 the Conciergerie before she was led to the scaf- 
 fold. During those few days, by her example 
 and her encouraging words, she spread among 
 the numerous prisoners there an enthusiasm and 
 a spirit of heroism which elevated, above the 
 fear of the scaffold, even the most timid and de- 
 pressed. This glow of feeling and exhilaration 
 gave a new impress of sweetness and fascina- 
 tion to her beauty, The length of her captiv- 
 ity, the calmness with which she contemplated 
 the certain approach of death, gave to her voice 
 that depth of tone and slight tromulousnese of
 
 1793.J TRIAL AND EXECUTION 289 
 
 Madame Rciand ' sddreesee to the prisoners. Effect! of her eloqnene* 
 
 utterance which sent her eloquent words home 
 with thrilling power to every heart. Those who 
 were walking in the corridor, or who were the 
 occupants of adjoining cells, often called for her 
 to speak to them words of encouragement and 
 consolation. 
 
 Standing upon a stool at the door of her own 
 cell, she grasped with her hands the iron grat- 
 ing which separated her from her audience. 
 This was her tribune. The melodious accents 
 of her voice floated along the labyrinthine ave- 
 nues of those dismal dungeons, penetrating cell 
 after cell, and arousing energy in hearts which 
 had been abandoned to despair. It was, indeed, 
 a strange scene which was thus witnessed in 
 these sepulchral caverns. The silence, as of 
 the grave, reigned there, while the clear and 
 musical tones of Madame Roland, as of an an- 
 gel of consolation, vibrated through the rusty 
 bars, and along the dark, damp cloisters. One 
 who was at that time an inmate of the prison, 
 and survived those dreadful scenes, has describ- 
 ed, in glowing terms, the almost miraculous 
 effects of her soul-moving eloquence. She was 
 already past the prime of life, but she was still 
 fascinating. Combined with the most wonder- 
 ful power of exuression, she possessed a voice 
 
 1819
 
 290 MADAMS ROLAND. [1793 
 
 HduM Rolnd' mwrieal Toice. HOT friendihlp for the Gtrondlitt. 
 
 so exquisitely musical, that, long after her lips 
 were silenced in death, its tones vibrated in lin- 
 gering strains in the souls of those by whom 
 they had ever been heard. The prisoners list- 
 ened with the most profound attention to her 
 glowing words, and regarded her almost as a 
 celestial spirit, who had come to animate them 
 to heroic deeds. She often spoke of the Girond- 
 ists who had already perished upon the guillo- 
 tine. With perfect fearlessness she avowed her 
 friendship for them, and ever spoke of them as 
 our friends. She, however, was careful never 
 to utter a word which would bring tears into 
 the eye. She wished to avoid herself all the 
 weakness of tender emotions, and to lure the 
 thoughts of her companions away from every 
 contemplation which could enervate their en- 
 ergies. 
 
 Occasionally, in the solitude of her cell, as 
 the image of her husband and of her child rose 
 before her, and her imagination dwelt upon her 
 desolated home and her blighted hopes hei 
 husband denounced and pursred by lawless vio- 
 lence, and her child soon tt be an orphan 
 woman's tenderness would triumph over the 
 heroine's stoicism. Burying, for a moment, her 
 face in her hands, she would burst into a flood
 
 1793.J TRIAL AND EXECUTION 291 
 
 OharmUf karaetor of Madame Roland. She U lored and ertoomed, 
 
 of tears. Immediately straggling to regain 
 composure, she would brush her tears away, 
 and dress her countenance in its accustomed 
 smiles. She remained in the Conoiergerie but 
 one week, and during that time so endeared 
 herself to all as to become the prominent object 
 of attention and love. Her case is one of the 
 most extraordinary the history of the world has 
 presented, in which the very highest degree of 
 heroism is combined with the most resistless 
 charms of feminine loveliness. An un feminine 
 woman can never be loved by men. She may 
 be respected for her talents, she may be honor- 
 ed for her philanthropy, but she can not win 
 the warmer emotions of the heart. But Ma- 
 dame Roland, with an energy of will, an in^ 
 ibility of purpose, a firmness of stoical endur- 
 ance which no mortal man has ever exceeded, 
 combined that gentleness, and tenderness, and 
 affection that instinctive sense of the propri 
 eties of her sex which gathered around her a 
 love as pure and as enthusiastic as woman ever 
 excited. And while her friends, many of whom 
 were the most illustrious men in France, had 
 enthroned her as an idol in their hearts, the 
 breath of slander never ventured to intimate 
 that she was guilty even of an impropriety.
 
 292 MADAME ROLAND 
 
 Madame Roland's advocate. Her appcaranc* at the tribunal 
 
 The day before her trial, her advocate, Chau 
 yeau de la Garde, visited her to consult respect 
 ing her defense. She, well aware that no one 
 could speak a word in her favor but at the peri] 
 of his own life, and also fully conscious that hei 
 doom was already sealed, drew a ring from her 
 finger, and said to him, 
 
 " To-morrow I shall be no more. I know 
 the fate which awaits me. Your kind assist- 
 ance can not avail aught for me, and would but 
 endanger you. I pray you, therefore, not to 
 come to the tribunal, but to accept of this last 
 testimony of my regard." 
 
 The next day she was led to her trial. She 
 attired herself in a white robe, as a symbol of 
 her innocence, and her long dark hair fell in 
 thick curie on her neck and shoulders. She 
 emerged from her dungeon a vision of unusual 
 loveliness. The prisoners who were walking in 
 the corridors gathered around her, and with 
 smiles and words of encouragement she infused 
 energy into their hearts. Calm and invincible 
 he met her judges She was accused of the 
 crimes of being the wife of M. Roland and the 
 friend of his friends. Proudly she acknowledg- 
 ed herself guilty of both those charges. When- 
 -ar she attempted to utter a word in her de*
 
 1793.] TRIAL AND EXECUTION 293 
 
 Demand of the president Madame Roland's refusal. The aonteno* 
 
 fense, she was brow-beaten by the judges, and 
 silenced by the clamors of the mob which filled 
 the tribunal. The mob now ruled with undis- 
 puted sway in both legislative and executive 
 halls. The serenity of her eye was untroubled, 
 and the composure of her disciplined spirit un- 
 moved, save by the exaltation of enthusiasm, 
 as she noted the progress of the trial, which was 
 bearing her rapidly and resistlessly to the scaf- 
 fold. It was, however, difficult to bring any 
 accusation against her by which, under the 
 form of law, she could be condemned. France, 
 even in its darkest hour, was rather ashamed 
 to behead a woman, upon whom the eyes of all 
 Europe were fixed, simply for being the wife 
 of her husband and the friend of his friends. 
 At last the president demanded of her that she 
 ghauld reveal her husband's asylum. She proud- 
 ly replied, 
 
 " I do not know of any law fry which I can 
 be obliged to violate the strongest feelings of 
 nature." This was sufficient, and she was im- 
 mediately condemned. Her sentence was thui 
 expressed : 
 
 " The public accuser has drawn up the pres- 
 ent indictment against Jane Mary Phlippon, 
 the wife of Roland, late Minister of the Interior
 
 294 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Madame Roland dignity and oalmnew. She return* to her oeO. 
 
 for having wickedly and designedly aided and 
 assisted in the conspiracy which existed against 
 the unity and indivisibility of the Republic, 
 against the liberty and safety of the French peo* 
 pie, by assembling, at her house, in secret coun- 
 cil, the principal chiefs of that conspiracy, and 
 by keeping up a correspondence tending to fa- 
 cilitate their treasonable designs. The tribu- 
 nal, having heard the public accuser deliver his 
 reasons concerning the application of the law, 
 condemns Jane Mary Phlippon, wife of Roland, 
 to the punishment of death." 
 
 She listened calmly to her sentence, and 
 then, rising, bowed with dignity to her judges, 
 and, smiling, said, 
 
 " I thank you, gentlemen, for thinking me 
 worthy of sharing the fate of the great men 
 whom you have assassinated. I shall endeavor 
 to imitate their firmness on the scaffold." 
 
 With the buoyant step of a child, and with a 
 rapidity which almost betokened joy, she passed 
 oeneath the narrow portal, and descended to her 
 oell, from which she was to be led, with the 
 morning light, to a bloody death. The prison- 
 ers had assembled to greet her on her return, 
 and anxiously gathered around her. She look- 
 ed upon them with a smile of perfect tranquil-
 
 1793.] TRIAL AND EXECUTION. 295 
 
 Madam* Roland's requiem. She attirei herself tar th bridal f daith. 
 
 lity, and, drawing her hand aoross her neck, 
 made a sign expressive of her doom. But a 
 few hours elapsed between her sentence and her 
 execution. She retired to her cell, wrote a few 
 words of parting to her friends, played, upon a 
 harp which had found its way into the prison, 
 her requiem, in tones so wild and mournful, 
 that, floating, in the dark hours of the night, 
 through those sepulchral caverns, they fell like 
 unearthly music upon the despairing souls there 
 incarcerated. 
 
 The morning of the 10th of November, 1793, 
 dawned gloomily upon Paris. It was one of 
 the darkest days of that reign of terror which, 
 ibr so long a period, enveloped France in its 
 somber shades. The ponderous gates of the 
 court-yard of the Conciergerie opened that morn- 
 ing to a long procession of carts loaded with vic- 
 tims for the guillotine. Madame Roland had 
 contemplated her fate too long, and had disci- 
 plined her spirit too severely, to fail of fortitude 
 in this last hour of trial. She came from her 
 cell scrupulously attired for the bridal of death. 
 A serene smile was upon her cheek, and the 
 glow of joyous animation lighted up her feat- 
 ures as she waved an adieu to the weeping pris- 
 oners who gathered around her. The last cart
 
 296 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 The ptMage to the guillotine. Horrlbl* paitime 
 
 was assigned to Madame Roland. She entered 
 it with a step as light and elastic as if it were 
 a carriage for a pleasant morning's drive. By 
 her side stood an infirm old man, M. La Marche. 
 He was pale and trembling, and his fainting 
 heart, in view of the approaching terror, almost 
 ceased to beat. She sustained him by her arm, 
 and addressed to him words of consolation and 
 encouragement, in cheerful accents and with a 
 benignant smile. The poor old man felt that 
 God had sent an angel to strengthen him in the 
 dark hour of death. As the cart heavily rum- 
 bled along the pavement, drawing nearer and 
 nearer to the guillotine, two or three times, by 
 her cheerful words, she even caused a smile 
 faintly to play upon his pallid lips. 
 
 The guillotine was now the principal instru- 
 ment of amusement for the populace of Paris. 
 It was so elevated that all could have a good 
 view of the spectacle it presented. To witness 
 *he conduct of nobles and of ladies, of boys and 
 of girls, while passing through the horrors of * 
 sanguinary death, was far more exciting than 
 the unreal and bombastic tragedies of the thea- 
 ter, or the conflicts of the cock-pit and the bear 
 garden. A countless throng flooded the street* , 
 men, women, and children, shouting, laughing,,
 
 1793.) TRIAL AND RTECHTIOM. 29? 
 
 Madame Roland's Appearance in the cart She address** the mob 
 
 execrating. The celebrity of Madame Roland, 
 her extraordinary grace and beauty, and her 
 aspect, not only of heroic fearlessness, but of 
 joyous exhilaration, made her the prominent 
 object of the public gaze. A white robe grace- 
 fully enveloped her perfect form, and her black 
 and glossy hair, which for some reason the exe- 
 cutioners had neglected to cut, fell in rich pro- 
 fusion to her waist. A keen November blast 
 swept the streets, under the influence of which, 
 and the excitement of the scene, her animated 
 countenance glowed with all the ruddy bloom 
 of youth. She stood firmly in the cart, looking 
 with a serene eye upon the crowds which lined 
 the streets, and listening with unruffled seren- 
 ity to the clamor which filled the air. A large 
 crowd surrounded the cart in which Madame 
 Roland stood, shouting, " To the guillotine ! to 
 the guillotine !" She looked kindly upon them, 
 and, bending over the railing of the cart, said 
 to them, in tones as placid as if she were ad- 
 dressing her own child, " My friends, I am going 
 to the guillotine. In a few moments I shall be 
 there. They who send me thither will ere long 
 follow me. I go innocent. They will come stain- 
 ed with blood. You who now applaud our exe- 
 cution will then applaud theirs with equal zeal"
 
 298 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 f owerfttl motion* of Madame Roland. Work of the executioner*. 
 
 Madame Roland had continued writing her 
 memoirs until the hour in which she left her 
 cell for the scaffold. When the cart had almost 
 arrived at the foot of the guillotine, her spirit 
 was so deeply moved by the tragic scene such 
 emotions came rushing in upon her soul from 
 departing time and opening eternity, that she 
 could not repress the desire to pen down her 
 glowing thoughts. She entreated an officer to 
 furnish her for a moment with pen and paper. 
 The request was refused. It is much to be re- 
 gretted that we are thus deprived of that un- 
 written chapter of her life. It can not be doubt- 
 ed that the words she would then have written 
 would have long vibrated upon the ear of a lis- 
 tening world. Soul-utterances will force their 
 way over mountains, and valleys, and oceans. 
 Despotism can not arrest them. Time can not 
 enfeeble them. 
 
 The long procession arrived at the guillotine, 
 and the bloody work commenced. The victims 
 were dragged from the carts, and the ax rose 
 and fell with unceasing rapidity. Head after 
 head fell into the basket, and the pile of bleed- 
 ing trunks rapidly increased in size. The ex- 
 eontioners approached the cart where Madame 
 Rf land stood by the side of her fainting com-
 
 1793.] TRIAL AND EXECUTION. 299 
 
 Scene at the scaffold. Execution of the old mm. 
 
 pafiion. With an animated countenance and a 
 cheerful smile, she was all engrossed in endeav- 
 oring to infuse fortitude into his soul. The ex- 
 ecutioner grasped her by the arm. " Stay," 
 said she, slightly resisting his grasp ; "I have 
 one favor to ask, and that is not for myself. I 
 beseech you grant it me." Then turning to the 
 old man, she said, " Do you precede me to the 
 scaffold. To see mj blood flow would make 
 you suffer the bitterness of death twice over. 
 I must spare you the pain of witnessing my ex- 
 ecution." The stern officer gave a surly refus- 
 al, replying, " My orders are to take you first." 
 With that winning smile and that fascinating 
 grace which were almost resistless, she rejoined, 
 " You can not, surely, refuse a woman her last 
 request." The hard-hearted executor of the law 
 was brought within the influence of her enchant- 
 ment. He paused, looked at her for a moment 
 in slight bewilderment, and yielded. The poor 
 old man, more dead than alive, was conducted 
 upon the scaffold and placed beneath the fatal 
 ax. Madame Roland, without the slightest 
 change of color, or the apparent tremor of a 
 nerve, saw the ponderous instrument, with its 
 glittering edge, glide upon its deadly mission, 
 and the decapitated trunk of her friend wa
 
 300 MADAME ROLAND. [1793 
 
 Situation of the guillotine. Death of Madame RoUoA. 
 
 thrown aside to give place for her. With a plao- 
 id countenance and a buoyant step, she ascend, 
 ed the platform. The guillotine was erected 
 upon the vacant spot between the gardens of 
 the Tuileries and the Elysian Fields, then 
 known as the Place de la Revolution. This 
 spot is now called the Place de la Concorde. 
 It is unsurpassed by any other place in Europe. 
 Two marble fountains now embellish the spot. 
 The blood-stained guillotine, from which crim- 
 son rivulets were ever flowing, then occupied 
 the space upon which one of these fountains has 
 been erected ; and a clay statue to Liberty reared 
 its hypocritical front where the Egyptian obe- 
 lisk now rises. Madame Roland stood for a mo- 
 ment upon the elevated platform, looked calm- 
 ly around upon the vast concourse, and then 
 bowing before the colossal statue, exclaimed, 
 " O Liberty ! Liberty ! how many crimes are 
 committed in thy name." She surrendered her- 
 self to the executioner, and was bound to the 
 plank. The plank fell to its horizontal position, 
 bringing her head under the fatal ax. The glit- 
 tering steel glided through the groove, and the 
 head of Madame Roland was severed from her 
 body. 
 
 Thus died Madame Roland, in the thirty-
 
 1793.] TRIAL AND EXECUTION. 303 
 
 Wonderful attachment Grief of M. Roland 
 
 ninth year of her age. Her death oppressed all 
 who had known her with the deepest grief 
 Her intimate friend Buzot, who was then a fu- 
 gitive, on hearing the tidings, was thrown into 
 a state of perfect delirium, from which he did 
 not recover for many days. Her faithful fe- 
 male servant was so overwhelmed with grief, 
 that she presented herself before the tribunal, 
 and implored them to let her die upon the same 
 scaffold where her beloved mistress had perish- 
 ed. The tribunal, amazed at such transports 
 of attachment, declared that she was mad, and 
 ordered her to be removed from their presence. 
 A man-servant made the same application, and 
 was sent to the guillotine. 
 
 The grief of M. Roland, when apprised of the 
 event, was unbounded. For a time he entirely 
 lost his senses. Life to him was no longer en- 
 durable. He knew not of any consolations of 
 religion. Philosophy could only nerve him to 
 etoicism. Privately he left, by night, the kind 
 friends who had hospitably concealed him for 
 six months, and- wandered to such a distance 
 from his asylum as to secure his protectors from 
 any danger on his account. Through the long 
 hours of the winter's night he continued hi* 
 dreary walk, till the first gray of the morning
 
 304 .MAC* ME ROLAND. [1793, 
 
 D*th of M. Roland. Subsequent life of Endora 
 
 appeared in the east. Drawing a long stiletto 
 from the inside of his walking-stick, he placed 
 the head of it against the trunk of a tree, and 
 threw himself upon the sharp weapon. The 
 point pierced his heart, and he fell lifeless upon 
 the frozen ground. Some peasants passing by 
 discovered his body. A piece of paper was pin- 
 ned to the breast of his coat, upon which there 
 were written these words: "Whoeverthou art 
 that findest these remains, respect them as those 
 of a virtuous man. After hearing of my wife's 
 death, I would not stay another day in a world 
 so stained with crime." 
 
 The daughter* of Madame Roland succeeded 
 in escaping the fury of the tyrants of the Rev- 
 olution. She lived surrounded by kind protec- 
 tors, and in subsequent years was married to 
 M. Champeneaux, the son of one of her moth- 
 er's intimate friends. 
 
 Such was the wonderful career of Madame 
 Roland It is a history full of instruction, and 
 ever reminds us that truth is stranger than 
 fiction. 
 
 THE END.
 
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