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The Private Memoirs of 
 Madame Roland 
 
MADAME ROLAND 
 
The Private Memoirs 
 
 of 
 
 Madame Roland 
 
 Edited, with an Introduction, 
 By Edward Gilpin Johnson 
 
 Chicago 
 
 A. C. McClurg & Co. 
 1900 
 

 Copyright 
 
 By a.' C. McClurg & Co. 
 
 A.D. 1900 
 
"During these five months, those Memoirs of 
 hers were written, which all the world still 
 reads." — Carlyle. 
 
Preface 
 
 THE translation which is reprinted in this 
 volume in a revised form and after com- 
 parison with the text of a standard French 
 edition, was made from Bosc's original edition 
 of the Memoirs, and was published at London 
 in 179s, within two years after Madame Roland's 
 death by the guillotine on November 8, I793. 
 The Private Memoirs of Madame Roland is a 
 favorite French classic which, though widely 
 quoted in historical' literature as an attractive 
 and authoritative work, has not for many years 
 been procurable in an English version. In issu- 
 ing the present edition, therefore, the publishers 
 believe that they have supplied an actual want. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 Introduction 13 
 
 The Private Memoirs of Madame Roland 
 
 Part 1 35 
 
 Part II 105 
 
 Part III 270 
 
 Supplementary Sketch 343 
 
 Detached Notes 366 
 
 Madame Roland's Farewell 370 
 
 Editor's Note 370 
 
 Index 375 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Madame Roland Frontispiece 
 
 Facing page 
 
 The Abbaye 20 
 
 Madame Roland, on the way to the guillotine . 32 
 
 Madame Roland, from the painting by Goupil ... 50 
 
 The Conxiergerie 80 
 
 Charlotte Corday 112 
 
 ChAteau de Versailles 130 
 
 Camille Desmoulins 154 
 
 Gensonn^ 170 
 
 Chateau de Meudon 184 
 
 Rousseau . . . ' 210 
 
 Chateau de St. Cloud 240 
 
 Madame Roland, from the painting by Heinsiu.s . . . 272 
 
 Brissot 302 
 
 Pache 316 
 
 Roland de la PLATifeRE 322 
 
 Barbaroux 340 
 
 BuzoT 360 
 
 PiTioN 374 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 IF Plutarch. did not, as M. Brunetiere some- 
 what fancifully asserts, " make the French 
 Revolution," his influence upon the generation 
 of Frenchmen that made it was nevertheless 
 such as to give point and color of truth to the 
 epigram. It was so largely to the old Greek 
 biographer that the typical mind of the epoch 
 owed its distinctive tinge and ply that the Revo- 
 lution, in so far as it reflected the intellectual 
 pecuharities of the day, may in a sense be said 
 to have been his work. The import of M. 
 Brunetiere's observation is nowhere so clearly 
 illustrated as in the history of the celebrated 
 group of political dreamers whose central figure 
 was the author of the following Memoir. It' 
 was from Plutarch's pages that the Girondins, 
 drew that extraordinary enthusiasm for thei 
 republics of classic antiquity which was perhaps 
 their most striking characteristic as a party;; 
 
14 Introduction 
 
 and Madame Roland was the soul of the 
 Gironde. To view her as essentially the dis- 
 ciple of Plutarch, bent through life on enacting 
 a Plutarchian r61e, and maintaining through 
 life a more or less Plutarchian pose, is to 
 possess the master-key to her career, and to 
 understand why there was in that career always 
 a certain tinge or suggestion of the theatrical, 
 even where her bearing was finest. In her 
 memoirs Madame Roland relates how the book 
 which so deeply affected her life first fell into 
 her hands.^ 
 
 " Plutarch," she adds, " seemed to be exactly the 
 food that suited my mind. I shall never forget the 
 Lent of 1763, at which time I was nine years of age, 
 when I carried it to church instead of my prayer- 
 book. From that period I may date the impressions 
 
 1 There were then two French translations of the "Lives " 
 available for popular use — Amyot's, of which a new edition 
 was issued in 1783, and Dacier's. It was Dacier's Plutarch 
 that Madame Roland read as a child, and which she sent for 
 while in the Abbaye prison. When Charlotte Corday left 
 Caen on her errand of tyrannicide, she took with her a copy 
 of Amyot's version; and it was undoubtedly the book that 
 inspired the deed. Another fruitful source of the curious 
 neo-classicism of the period was the Abb^ Barthilemy's 
 " Travels of the Young Anacharsis in Greece " — the author- 
 ship of which saved the Abbe's life during the Terror. 
 
Introduction 1 5 
 
 and ideas that rendered me a republican, though I 
 did not then dream that I should ever be a citizen 
 of a republic." 
 
 In thus defining Madame Roland as the 
 spiritual daughter of Plutarch, it is not intended 
 to .figure her as the mere embodiment of a trait, 
 or as the victim of a fixed idea. Influences 
 other than Plutarch's, and qualities less admir- 
 able than the pursuit of a high, if delusive, 
 ideal, played an appreciable part in shaping 
 her course and character. Rousseau left an 
 early and indelible impress on her mind ; and a 
 shade of truth must be conceded to the some- 
 what cynical theory which depicts her as es- 
 sentially the vain bourg^oise, whose republican 
 raptures were at bottom the expression of her 
 hatred of a society in which she found her- 
 self so inadequately placed. Vanity, wounded 
 self-esteem, the rankling memory of social 
 slights and humiliations, were potent forces in 
 the overthrow of the old regime. The jealousy 
 of the Third Estate of the artificial superiorities 
 and unearned privileges of decadent feudalism 
 is the central fact of the Revolution; and 
 Madame Roland was no stranger to the senti- 
 ments of her class. How keenly she resented 
 
1 6 Introduction 
 
 the distinctions of birth that blocked the path 
 and galled the pride of the educated and pros- 
 perous commoner of the eighteenth century, 
 her memoirs too bitterly attest. To this alloy 
 of jaundiced class feeling, joined to a certain 
 native hardness and implacability of temper, 
 must be ascribed what is palpably impolitic and 
 ungenerous in the conduct of Madame Roland. 
 A more temperate politician would have seen 
 the folly of rejecting the alliance of Danton ; 
 a gentler woman would have relented at the 
 sorrows of Marie Antoinette. 
 
 But whatever her blemishes may have been, 
 Madame Roland is still the heroine of the 
 Revolution. It is to her that the eye instinc- 
 tively turns for a type and symbol of the 
 earlier and finer characteristics of that move- 
 ment, — its quasi-religious enthusiasm, its 
 broad philanthropy, its passion for liberty and 
 ■ social justice, its faith in the original goodness 
 and ultimate high destiny of man. She was 
 the genius and inspirer of the men whose elo- 
 quence overthrew the throne and founded the 
 Republic. Writers unfriendly to the Revolu- 
 tion find food for satire in the classical affecta- 
 tions of these young orators and their " Egeria," 
 
Introduction 1 7 
 
 in their capacity for self-admiration, and their 
 foible of regarding themselves and each other 
 as so many Solons and Catos, Philopoemens 
 and Phocions, providentially sent to refresh 
 the tradition of ancient virtue, and to herald 
 the regeneration of a world that priests had 
 darkened and tyrants had enslaved. But youth- 
 ful extravagances born of an honest enthusiasm 
 for the great and the good may be easily con- 
 doned. A suggestion of tender and poetic 
 grace will always linger about the memory of 
 the Girondins; and impartial history, while 
 pointing out their manifest and fatal short- 
 comings, will not fail to add that when the 
 final test of their courage and sincerity came, 
 they met their fate with 'a constancy worthy of 
 those great spirits of antiquity whose renown 
 they aspired to share. 
 
 To appreciate the " Memoirs " of Madame 
 Roland justly it is necessary to realize and 
 bear in mind the circumstances under which 
 they were written. The writer was a prisoner, 
 and under no illusions as to her impending fate. 
 Across her path lay in unmistakable outlines 
 the shadow of the guillotine. Her husband and 
 her friends were outlaws, tracked from hiding- 
 
1 6 Introduction 
 
 the distinctions of birth that blocked the path 
 and galled the pride of the educated and pros- 
 perous commoner of the eighteenth century, 
 her memoirs too bitterly attest. To this alloy 
 of jaundiced class feeling, joined to a certain 
 native hardness and implacability of temper, 
 must be ascribed what is palpably impolitic and 
 ungenerous in the conduct of Madame Roland. 
 A more temperate politician would have seen 
 the folly of rejecting the alliance of Danton; 
 a gentler woman would have relented at the 
 sorrows of Marie Antoinette. 
 
 But whatever her blemishes may have been, 
 Madame Roland is still the heroine of the 
 Revolution. It is to her that the eye instinc- 
 tively turns for a type and symbol of the 
 earlier and finer characteristics of that move- 
 ment, — its quasi-religious enthusiasm, its 
 broad philanthropy, its passion for liberty and 
 ' social justice^ its faith in the original goodness 
 and ultimate high destiny of man. She was 
 the genius and inspirer of the men whose elo- 
 quence overthrew the throne and founded the 
 Republic. Writers unfriendly to the Revolu- 
 tion find food for satire in the classical affecta- 
 tions of these young orators and their " Egeria," 
 
Introduction 1 7 
 
 in their capacity for self-admiration, and their 
 foible of regarding themselves and each other 
 as so many Solons and Catos, Philopoemens 
 and Phocions, providentially sent to refresh 
 the tradition of ancient virtue, and to herald 
 the regeneration of a world that priests had 
 darkened and tyrants had enslaved. But youth- 
 ful extravagances born of an honest enthusiasm 
 for the great and the good may be easily con- 
 doned. A suggestion of tender and poetic 
 grace will always linger about the memory of 
 the Girondins; and impartial history, while 
 pointing out their manifest and fatal short- 
 comings, will not fail to add that when the 
 final test of their courage and sincerity came, 
 they met their fate with a constancy worthy of 
 those great spirits of antiquity whose renown 
 they aspired to share. 
 
 To appreciate the " Memoirs " of Madame 
 Roland justly it is necessary to realize and 
 bear in mind the circumstances under which 
 they were written. The writer was a prisoner, 
 and under no illusions as to her impending fate. 
 Across her path lay in unmistakable outlines 
 the shadow of the guillotine. Her husband and 
 her friends were outlaws, tracked from hiding- 
 
1 8 Introduction 
 
 place to hidingplace by foes in whose eyes 
 clemency was a political crime. The trumped- 
 up charge of her own infamy was ringing in 
 the ears of all Paris. Under her cell window 
 hawkers of the filthy journals of the day were 
 audibly crying their wares and shouting her 
 name coupled with the epithets and calum- 
 nies of Pire Duchesne?- Her day was done. 
 Her stately Plutarchian republic of wisdom 
 and virtue was sunk in mire and blood. How 
 clearly she had come to see the futility of the 
 dreams on which she had lived and fed her 
 hopes so long is shown in the apostrophe in 
 which she bids them a last farewell: — 
 
 " Sublime illusions, generous sacrifices, hope, hap- 
 piness, and country, adieu ! At twelve years old I 
 lamented in the first expansions of my young heart 
 that I was not born at Sparta or at Rome. In the 
 French Revolution I thought I saw the application 
 
 1 "... I was not only transformed into the abettor of a 
 counter-revolution, but into an old and toothless hag, and was 
 exhorted to weep for my sins till the time sho'uld come to ex- 
 piate them on the scaffold. The hawkers, in consequence 
 no doubt of their instructions, did not leave the vicinity of the 
 prison for a moment, but accompanied their proclamation of 
 ' P^re Duchesne's Great Visit to the Wife of Roland ' with the 
 most sanguinary advice to the market-people." — Madame R.'s 
 " Historical Notes." 
 
Introduction 19 
 
 of the principles in which my mind was steeped. 
 Splendid chimeras ! enchanting reveries, by which I 
 have been beguiled ! The horror and corruption of 
 one great city dispels you all." 
 
 Thus, broken and disillusionized, Madame 
 Roland took up her pen to recount the story of 
 her life. To refute the current slanders of her 
 political enemies was naturally her first con- 
 cern. Gradually, as she became absorbed in 
 her task and lost in the contemplation of her 
 tranquil and studious youth, the old idealizing 
 mood came back and resumed its sway. 
 Madame Roland became, as it were, her own 
 Plutarch. Conscious of her worth and recti- 
 tude, eager to secure in history the esteem that 
 her own times had denied her, the portrait she 
 paints is one in which her own charms are too 
 unreservedly portrayed, and the account of her 
 own virtues is too strictly rendered. Madame 
 Roland's detractors, making no allowance for 
 the stress of her tragic situation, have dealt 
 none too generously with this flaw in her 
 "Memoirs." Partisan critics, countrymen of 
 Madame Roland, have not scrupled to vent 
 their satiric wit upon these tear-stained pages, 
 in which a high and misjudged soul, already in 
 
20 Introduction 
 
 the Valley of the Shadow, claims its meed of 
 recognition from posterity. But the sympa- 
 thetic reader will perhaps find more pathos 
 than vanity in the "self-admiration" of a 
 defamed, and desolate woman who, from the 
 foot of the scaffold, looks back fondly upon her 
 earlier and happier self as upon one she had 
 known and communed with in the past. 
 
 The writings of Madame Roland, which are 
 embraced under the collective title of "An 
 Appeal to Impartial Posterity," and of which 
 the personal memoir given in this volume 
 forms a part, were composed during the five 
 months of her imprisonment in the Abbaye 
 and Sainte P61agie. She was arrested and 
 taken to the Abbaye on the morning of June i, 
 1793, the day before the expulsion of the 
 Girondists from the Convention. Twenty- 
 four days later she was set free, but was at 
 once rearrested and confined in Sainte Pelagic,' 
 
 ' This proceeding was not a mere piece of wanton cruelty, 
 as some of her biographers assume. There had been, it seems, 
 a technical flaw in her first commitment ; and it was to cure 
 this that she was freed and rearrested. She, says, in her " His- 
 torical Notes " : " Joubert . . . confessed that my first arrest 
 was illegal, and that it was necessary to set me at liberty in 
 order that I might be afterwards taken into custody accord- 
 ing to legal forms." 
 
THE ABBAYE 
 
Introduction 2 1 
 
 where she remained until transferred to the 
 Conciergerie, eight days before her execution 
 on November 8. Of her prison life Madame 
 Roland has told the story in detail in her 
 "Historical Notes." Her lot was smoothed in 
 various ways by the kindness of the jailers, 
 who braved the anger of the Commune in 
 furtively bestowing little favors upon their win- 
 ning and illustrious captive. She tells us 
 how, after arriving at the Abbaye, she at once 
 set about arranging the interior of her cell in 
 her usual thrifty way — for, be it remembered, 
 "Cato's wife" was in her domestic concerns a 
 most practical and housewifely woman. " Ris- 
 ing at about noon," she says, "I considered 
 how I should order my new lodgings : " — 
 
 " With a white napkin I covered the rude little 
 table, which I moved to the window, where it might 
 serve as a desk ; for I made up my mind to take my 
 meals from a corner of the mantelpiece, so that the 
 table might be kept clean and in order for writing. 
 Two large hat-pins, stuck into the boards, answered 
 for • a wardrobe. In my pocket I had Thomson's 
 " Seasons," a work which I valued on more than one 
 account; and I made a list of what other books I 
 wanted. First was Plutarch's "Lives of Illustrious 
 
2 2 Introduction 
 
 Persons." Lavacquerie (the jailer) who had never 
 seen his cell occupied by so contented an inmate, 
 and who used to admire the pleasure I took in 
 arranging my books and my flowers, told me that in 
 future he should call it the Pavilion of Flora." 
 
 At Sainte Pdlagie Madame Roland was at 
 first confined in the common corridor of the 
 wing set apart for female criminals. "There," 
 she says, "under the same roof, and in the 
 same line of cells, I dwell in the midst of 
 murderers, thieves, and harlots. By the side 
 of me is one of those creatures who make a 
 trade of seduction and a traffic of innocence; 
 above me is a forger of ^ssignats, who, with a 
 band of monsters to which she belonged, tore a 
 person of her own sex to pieces upon the high- 
 way." From this Inferno of oaths and obscen- 
 ity she was temporarily delivered through the 
 compassion of the concierge, Madame Bouchaud. 
 This good woman, not content with occasion- 
 ally allowing Madame Roland the use of her 
 own apartment, at length determined to assume 
 the responsibility of removing her altogether 
 from the cell in the corridor, and lodging her 
 in a quiet and comfortable room on the ground, 
 floor. Here, cheered by her books and by the 
 
Introduction 2 3 
 
 flowers which the faithful Bosc brought daily 
 from the Jardin des Plantes, Madame Roland 
 passed the serener and busier days of her cap- 
 tivity. It was no longer, she says, the sinister 
 visage of the turnkey that first met her eyes 
 in the morning, and that was the last to look 
 in upon her at night. 
 
 " It was the kindly face of Madame Bouchaud 
 which first greeted my eyes ; she it was whose loving 
 attentions I perceived every moment of the day. 
 There was nothing, even to the very jessamine 
 carried up to my window and twining its pliant 
 tendrils round the bars, that did not testify to her 
 benevolence." 
 
 While at Sainte Pela^ie Madame Roland was 
 allowed the services of a female attendant, a 
 prisoner confined for some minor offence, who 
 relieved her of the coarser and more menial 
 work. It was not without some philosophical 
 scruples that the austere republican accepted 
 this assistance; and she makes thereon some 
 characteristic reflections in her most Plutar- 
 chian vein: 
 
 "... Not but that I was very well able to be 
 my own servant. 'Everything becomes a noble 
 
24 Introduction 
 
 spirit,' was said of Favonius performing for Pompey 
 in his misfortunes the offices which valets perform 
 for their masters. This may be applied with equal 
 justice ... to the austere philosopher disdaining 
 every superfluity. Quinctius* was roasting his tur- 
 nips when he received the ambassadors of the Sam- 
 nites; and, I could very well have made my bed, 
 etc., at Sainte Pdagie." 
 
 Madame Roland was not long permitted to 
 occupy the retreat assigned her by Madame 
 Bouchaud. An inspector going his rounds. of 
 the prison was scandalized at the comparative 
 comfort of her surroundings, and roughly or- 
 dered her back to her cell, adding sternly to 
 the concierge : " It is your business to maintain 
 equality." Thus was the apostle of the new 
 social order, by an ironically drastic application 
 , of her own principles, shorn of her " privileges," 
 I and forced to do homage to the goddess of 
 ' /ga/it/. 
 
 While at the Abbaye Madame Roland wrote 
 her " Historical Notes," a summary and vindi- 
 cation of her public life, which she intrusted to 
 Champagneux for safe keeping. Being himself 
 
 1 Madame Roland is in error here. It was Marcus Curius 
 Dentatus of whom this story is related. 
 
Introduction 25 
 
 arrested, Champagneux consigned the manu- 
 script to a third person, who, unwilling to be 
 the custodian of the compromising papers, 
 threw them into the fire, where they were 
 partially consumed. Believing them wholly 
 lost, the author was in despair. 
 
 " I should have preferred," she says, " to have 
 been thrown into the fire myself. . . . These writings 
 were the anchor to which I trusted for the justifica- 
 tion of my memory." 
 
 After her removal to Sainte Pdlagie she re- 
 wrote her "Historical Notes," adding thereto a 
 series of " Portraits and Anecdotes," an account 
 of her second arrest, and of the two ministries 
 of Roland. At the same time she prepared 
 her "Private Memoirs," — a detailed narrative 
 of her life from infancy to the date of her mar- 
 riage. Some fragmentary notes and reflections 
 were added later, and the whole was intrusted 
 to Bosc. But this friend, too, was presently 
 proscribed by the Mountain. Forced to flee 
 for his life, he first hid the precious manu- 
 scripts in a hollow tree in the forest of Mont- 
 morency, whence they were recovered eight 
 months later, when the storm of the Terror 
 
2 6 Introduction 
 
 had subsided. Bosc's first edition of the 
 "Memoirs" was published in 1795; and the 
 original manuscript of seven hundred small- 
 sized sheets of grayish paper, compactly filled 
 in with Madame Roland's neat and firm hand- 
 writing, is now in the Bibliotheque Nationale. 
 
 The " Private Memoirs " of Madame Roland 
 is a familiar classic of French literature, and its 
 merits need hardly be enlarged upon here. Its 
 pathos, its playful humor, its trenchant satire, 
 its vivid pictures of contemporary life and 
 manners, will not be lost upon the reader. As 
 a reflection of the most striking peculiarities 
 of the French mind of the time, and as a 
 description of the life of a young woman of the 
 bourgeois class, the book has few rivals in its 
 kind. It abounds in graceful and essentially 
 feminine touches, in which the somewhat 
 pompous and declamatory " Historical Notes " 
 are lacking. One feels the sincerity, the unaf- 
 fected eloquence of such charming passages, 
 for instance, as that in which Madame Roland 
 says, of her love of flowers : — 
 
 " I always remember the singular effect produced 
 on me by a bunch of violets at Christmas. When I 
 
Introduction 27 
 
 received them I was in that mood which a season 
 favorable to serious thought induces. My imagina- 
 tion slumbered. I reflected coldly, the emotions 
 were at rest. Suddenly the color of the violets and 
 their delicate perfume quickened my senses. It was 
 an awakening to life. ... A rosy tinge suffused the 
 horizon of the day." 
 
 The style of the narrative is usually simple 
 and direct. True, Madame Roland idealizes 
 at times, and it is too often the hand of Rous- 
 seau that guides her pen, impelling it to dis- 
 closures from which her native good sense and 
 delicacy would have shrunk. While the memoir 
 attests throughout the rare fortitude and self- 
 control of the author, it nevertheless betrays at 
 intervals how keenly she felt her situation. 
 More than once the rapid flow of the recital is 
 broken, as it were, by a sob, an exclamation of 
 despair, as the writer drops her pen, and gives 
 vent for the moment to her grief; and then, 
 through the mist of time, one sees, not the 
 somewhat cold and Amazonian Madame Roland 
 of conventional history and panegyric, but the 
 poor prisoner racked with anguish which her 
 pride struggles to repress, of whom her attend- 
 ant said to her fellow-captives : — 
 
2 8 Introduction 
 
 " Before you she collects all her strength, but in 
 her cell she remains sometimes for hours together 
 leaning against her window, weeping." " Alas ! " 
 wrote Madame Roland to Bosc, " I know now what 
 it is, that malady the English call heart-break. I 
 have no desire to delay its results." 
 
 On November ist, Madame Roland was 
 taken to the Conciergerie, a prison over whose 
 portals was written the warning to abandon 
 hope. Her Girondist friends had, on the day 
 before, issued thence on their way to the 
 scaffold; and her own doom was now clearly 
 sealed. She was at last to assume in grim 
 reality the r61e she had so often enacted in 
 fancy, in the days of her romantic youth. 
 With Socrates she was to drink the hemlock; 
 with Agis she was to bend the neck in virtuous 
 resignation to the axe. The sense of the 
 dramatic possibilities of her situation, of its 
 enduring publicity, undoubtedly helped to 
 steel her to its terrors ; and her native courage 
 was above that of most mortals. Of her bear- 
 ing during the closing days at the Conciergerie 
 we have an attractive picture from witnesses 
 who cannot be suspected of a desire to gild the 
 truth. Those to whom her political views 
 
Introduction 29 
 
 were abhorrent are the ones most eloquent in 
 her praise. She seems to have moved among 
 her companions in a strange state of exaltation, 
 as one who had already done with earthly things. 
 
 "From the time of her arrival," writes the 
 Duchesse de Grammont, " the apartment of Madame 
 Roland became an asylum of peace in the bosom of 
 this hell. If she descended into the court, her simple 
 presence restored good order, and the abandoned 
 women there, on whom no other power exerted an 
 influence, were restrained by the fear of displeasing 
 her. She gave alms to the most needy, and to all 
 counsel, consolation, and hope." 
 
 Says Comte Beugnot : — 
 
 " Something more than is generally found in the 
 look of woman beamed from her eyes, which were 
 large, dark, and brilliant. She often spoke to me at 
 the grating, with the freedom and energy of a great 
 man. . . . We used to gather round her and listen in 
 a kind of admiring wonder. Her discourse was 
 serious without being cold ; and she expressed her- 
 self with an elegance, a harmony, and a modulation, 
 that made of her language a kind of music of which 
 the ear never wearied." 
 
 On the day after her arrival at the Con- 
 ciergerie, Madame Roland was brought before 
 
30 Introduction 
 
 the Tribunal for the first time ; two days later 
 she underwent a second examination; on the 
 7th of November the witnesses against her 
 were questioned; and the day following was 
 set for her trial. The Indictment of Fouquier- 
 Tinville charged her with being "one of the 
 , principal agents and abettors " of the Girondist 
 attempt to rouse the Departments against the 
 Convention. The proof cited in that instru- 
 ment consisted of a half-dozen letters indicat- 
 ing that she sympathized with the movement. 
 Of evidence that she had in any way actively 
 aided it or shared in it there was no shred. 
 That her trial was to be a mere form which 
 could have but one issue she was fully aware. 
 On the night preceding it Chauveau-Lagarde, 
 a young lawyer who courageously offered to 
 defend her, came to the prison to consult with 
 her. Madame Roland listened to his sugges- 
 tions with attention, but plainly without hope. 
 When he rose to go she slipped a ring from 
 her finger and handed it to him without speak- 
 ing. The young man divined her meaning. 
 
 " Madame," he said, deeply moved, " we shall see 
 each other to-morrow after the trial ! " " To-mor- 
 row," she replied, "I shall be no more. I value 
 
Introduction 31 
 
 your services, but they might prove fatal to you. 
 You would ruin yourself without saving me. Spare 
 me the pain of putting the life of a good man in 
 danger. Do not come to the court, for I shall dis- 
 claim you if you do ; but accept this, the only token 
 my gratitude can offer. To-morrow I shall be in 
 eternity." 
 
 On the morrow, as she left her cell to await 
 the summons to the bar, it was seen that she 
 had attired herself with unusual care, and with 
 a certain pathetic regard to the event she felt 
 was approaching. Her robe was of white, 
 trimmed with snowy lace, and .fastened with a 
 girdle of black velvet. Her long, dark hair 
 flowed loosely below her waist. As she entered 
 the hall-way Comte Beugnot joined her. 
 
 " Her face," he writes, " seemed to me more ani- 
 mated than usual. Its color was exquisite, and there 
 was a smile on her lips. With one hand she held up 
 the train of her robe ; the other she abandoned to 
 the prisoners who pressed forward to kiss it. Those 
 who realized the fate that awaited her sobbed about 
 her and commended her to God. ... I delivered 
 my message to her in the passage. She replied in a 
 few words spoken in a firm voice. She had begun a 
 sentence when two officers from the interior called 
 her to the bar. At this summons, so terrible* for 
 
3 2 Introduction 
 
 another, she stopped, pressed my hand, and said: 
 ' Farewell, sir, let us make peace, it is time.' Raising 
 her eyes she saw that I was trying to repress my 
 tears. She seemed moved, and added but two 
 words 'Have courage. 
 
 , t II 
 
 When Madame Roland came out from the 
 Tribunal she passed the wicket with the light 
 step of one elated with the joy of acquittal; 
 but to the inquiring looks of her friends she 
 replied with a gesture signifying that she had 
 been condemned to die. The death-cart al- 
 ready awaited her in the courtyard. 
 
 How she bore herself on her journey along 
 that "via dolorosa of the Revolution," which 
 led from the Conciergerie to the Place de la 
 Guillotine, the world knows. No recorded 
 pilgrim of the long train that fared that way in 
 those heroic days showed a sublimer indiffer- 
 ence to its terrors. A spectator who saw her 
 as she passed the Pont Neuf wrote of her as 
 standing erect and calm in the tumbrel, "her 
 eyes shining, her color fresh and brilliant, 
 with a smile on her lips, as she tried to cheer 
 her companion, an old man overcome by the 
 fear of approaching death." At the foot of the 
 scaffold she asked for pen and paper " to write 
 
m:ax>am:e: roi*ani> on the "way to the GTnr*LOTiNB 
 
 " 0/ Liberie coniine on Cajouie!"' 
 
Introduction 33 
 
 the strange thoughts that were rising in her. " 
 When the executioner grasped her arm to assist 
 her in mounting the steps, she drew back and 
 begged that her companion might be allowed 
 to precede her. The custom of the guillotine 
 allowed her, as a woman, the privilege of dying 
 first ; but she wished to spare the infirm old 
 man a scene that would augment his fears. 
 Sanson objected. "Come, citizen," she urged 
 with a smile, "you cannot deny a lady her last 
 request." Her wish was granted. 
 
 As they were binding her to the plank her 
 gaze fell upon the colossal statue of liberty 
 erected in memory of that loth of August 
 which she and her friends had made: "O 
 liberty," she exclaimed, "comme on t'ajou^e!" 
 
 The plank was swung back, the axe fell, and 
 the spirit of Madame Roland (let us hope) 
 joined its chosen kindred. 
 
 E. G. J. 
 
THE PRIVATE MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 MADAME ROLAND 
 
 Prison of Sainte PfiLACiE, 
 Aug. 9, 1793. 
 
 THE daughter of an artist, the wife of a man 
 of letters (who, become a minister, re- 
 mained an honest man), now a prisoner, destined 
 perhaps to a violent and unexpected death, I 
 have known both happiness , and adversity, I 
 have seen glory at hand, and I have experienced 
 injustice. 
 
 Born in an obscure station, but of respectable 
 parents, I spent my youth in the lap of the fine 
 arts, feasting on the charms of study, ignorant 
 of all superiority but that of merit, all greatness 
 but that of virtue. 
 
 Arrived at years of maturity, I lost all hopes 
 of that fortune, which might have placed me in 
 a condition suitable to the education I had re- 
 
36 Private Memoirs 
 
 ceived. A marriage with a man of position 
 appeared to compensate this loss; it prepared 
 for me new misfortunes. 
 
 A gentle disposition, a strong mind, a solid 
 understanding, an extremely affectionate heart, 
 and an exterior which announced these qualities, 
 renidered me dear to those by whom I was 
 known. My station has created me enemies; 
 personally I have had none ; by those who have 
 spoken the most ill of me I have never been seen. 
 
 So true is it that things are rarely what they 
 appear to be, that the periods of my life in which 
 I have tasted most pleasure, or experienced 
 most vexation, were those which appeared to 
 others the very reverse : the solution is that hap- 
 piness depends on the affections more than on 
 events. 
 
 I purpose to employ the leisure of my cap- 
 tivity in retracing what has happened to me 
 from my tenderest infancy to the present 
 moment. Thus to tread over again all the steps 
 of our career is to live a second time ; and what, 
 in the gloom of a prison, can we do better than 
 to transport elsewhere our existence by pleas- 
 ing fictions or the recollection of interesting 
 occurrences ? 
 
of Madame Roland 37 
 
 If experience is less acquired by acting than 
 by reflecting on what we see and on what we 
 do, mine will be greatly augmented by my 
 present undertaking. 
 
 Public affairs and my own private sentiments 
 have afforded me sufficient matter for thinking 
 and subjects enough for my pen, during the two 
 months of my imprisonment, without obliging 
 me to have recourse to distant times. Accord- 
 ingly, the first five weeks were dedicated to 
 Historical Notes, which formed perhaps no un- 
 interesting collection. They have just been 
 destroyed.^ I have felt all the bitterness of this 
 loss, which I shall never repair. But I should 
 despise myself, could I suffer my mind to sink 
 under anything that might occur. In all the 
 troubles I have experienced, the most lively 
 impression of pain has been almost immediately 
 accompanied with the ambition of opposing my 
 strength to the evil, and of surmounting it, 
 either by doing good to others, or by exalting 
 my own courage. Thus misfortune may pursue, 
 but cannot overwhelm me ; tyrants may perse- 
 
 ' They were only partially destroyed. The account of her 
 arrest, of the first days at the Abbaye, and of her life during 
 Roland'f term of office escaped the flames. 
 
38 Private Memoirs 
 
 cute, but never, never shall they debase me. 
 My Historical Notes are gone : I am about to 
 write others of a private nature ; and, prudently 
 accommodating myself to my weakness at a 
 moment when my feelings are acute, I shall talk 
 of myself, the better to divert those feelings. I 
 shall relate the good and the bad with equal 
 freedom. He who dares not speak well of him- 
 self is almost always a coward who knows and 
 dreads the ill that may be said of him ; and he 
 who hesitates to confess his faults has neither 
 the courage to vindicate nor the virtue to re- 
 pair them. Thus frank with respect to myself, 
 I shall observe no restraint toward others: 
 father, mother, friends, husband, I shall describe 
 as they are, or in the colors in which they 
 appeared to me. 
 
 While I remained in a quiet and retired station 
 of life my natural sensibility so absorbed my 
 other qualities, that it alone displayed itself, 
 or governed them all. My first desire was to 
 please and to do good. I was a little like that 
 good M. de Gourville, of whom Madame de 
 S6vign6 said that the love of his neighbor 
 cut off half his words; and I merited what 
 Sainte-Lette said of me, that with wit to 
 
of Madame Roland 39 
 
 point an epigram I never suffered one to 
 escape me. 
 
 Since the energy of my character has been 
 unfolded by circumstances, by political and 
 other storms, my frankness stands foremost, . 
 without considering too nicely the little scratches 
 it may inflict incidentally. Still I deal not in 
 epigrams ; they imply the taking a pleasure in 
 the wounds dealt by satire, and I find no amuse- 
 ment in kiUing flies. But I love to do justice 
 by the utterance of truths; and I refrain not 
 from the most severe ones in presence of the 
 parties concerned, without suffering myself to 
 be alarmed, or moved, or angry, whatever may 
 be their effect. 
 
 Gatien Phlipon, my father, was by profession" 
 an engraver; he also cultivated painting, and 
 applied himself to that in enamel, less from 
 taste than expectation of profit; but the fire, 
 which it is necessary to employ in enamelling, 
 agreeing neither with his sight nor his constitu- 
 tion, he was obliged to relinquish this branch. 
 He confined himself therefore to the first, the 
 profits of which were moderate. But, though 
 he was industrious, though the times were 
 favorable to the exercise of his art, though he 
 
40 Private Memoirs 
 
 had much business, and employed a consider- 
 able number of workmen, a desire to make a 
 more speedy fortune led him to speculate. He 
 purchased diamonds and other jewels, or took 
 them in pay from the tradesmen who employed 
 him, to sell them again as opportunity offered. 
 I mention this circumstance, because I have 
 observed that ambition is generally fatal in all 
 classes of men ; for the few who are so lucky as 
 to be raised by it, multitudes become its vic- 
 tims. The example of my father will afford me 
 more than one application of this maxim. His 
 art was sufficient to procure him a comfortable 
 subsistence ; he sought to become rich, and he 
 ended with being ruined. 
 
 Strong and healthy, active and vain, he loved 
 his wife, and was fond of dress. Without learn- 
 ing, he had that degree of taste and knowledge 
 which the fine arts give superficially, in what- 
 ever branch they are practised. Thus, notwith- 
 standing his regird for wealth and whatever 
 could procure it, he trafficked with tradesmen, 
 but was intimate only with artists, painters, and 
 sculptors. He led a regular life, while his ambi- 
 tion was not unbridled, or had experienced no 
 disappointments. He could not be said to be 
 
of Madame Roland 41 
 
 a virtuous man, but he had a great deal of what 
 is called honor. He would have had no objec- 
 tion to the receiving for a thing more than it 
 was worth, but he would have killed himself 
 rather than not pay the stipulated price of what 
 he had purchased. 
 
 Marguerite Bimont, his wife, brought him, as 
 a dower, little money, but a heavenly mind, and 
 a most enchanting countenance. The eldest 
 of six children, to whom she had been a second 
 mother, she married at six-and-twenty, only to 
 resign her place to her sisters. Her affectionate 
 heart and captivating mind ought to have pro- 
 cured her a union with a man of sensibility and 
 enlightened understanding; but her parents 
 proposed to her an honest man whose abilities 
 insured a subsistence, and her reason accepted 
 him. Instead of happiness, which she could 
 scarcely expect, she felt that she might at least 
 secure domestic tranquillity. The ability to 
 limit our desires is a proof of wisdom : positive 
 enjoyments are rarer than we imagine, but 
 virtue never lacks consolation. 
 
 I was the second of the seven children born to 
 my parents, all of whom but myself died either 
 at nurse or from mishaps while coming into 
 
42 Private Memoirs 
 
 the world ; and my mother sometimes repeated 
 with pleasure, that I was the only one with 
 whom she had experienced no disaster; for her 
 delivery had been as happy as her pregnancy: 
 it seemed as if I had contributed to her healtlT^ 
 
 An aunt of my father selected for me, in the 
 neighborhood of Arpajon, where she frequently 
 went in summer, a healthy and'^od-tempered 
 nurse, much esteemed in the place, particularly 
 because the brutality of her husband rendered 
 her unhappy, without, however, corrupting her 
 disposition or altering her conduct. Madame 
 Besnard, my great-aunt, had no child ; her hus- 
 band was my godfather ; they both considered 
 me as their own daughter. Their attentions to 
 me have never slackened; they are still alive, 
 and in the decline of their age are overwhelmed 
 with sorrow, lamenting the fate of their darling 
 niece, in whom they had placed their hopes 
 and their pride. Venerable pair! be com- 
 forted : it is given to few to run their career 
 in that silence and tranquillity which have at- 
 tended you. I am not unequal to the misfor- 
 tunes that assail me, and I shall never cease to 
 honor your virtues. 
 
 The vigilance of my nurse was encouraged or 
 
of Madame Roland 43 
 
 recompensed by my good relations; her zeal 
 and success procured her the friendship of my 
 family. As long as she lived, she never spent 
 two years without coming to Paris to see me. 
 When she heard that death had deprived me 
 of my mother, she immediately hastened to 
 me. I still recollect her appearance: I was 
 confined to my bed with affliction: her pres- 
 ence recalling too forcibly to .my mind my 
 recent calamity, the first I had experienced, I 
 fell into convulsions that terrified her. She 
 withdrew ; I saw her no more ; she died soon 
 after. I remember visiting her at the cottage 
 in which she suckled me. I listened with emo- 
 tion to the tales which her good-natured sim- 
 plicity took pleasure in relating, as she pointed 
 out my favorite spots, and related the tricks I 
 had played her, with the humor of which she 
 was still entertained. At two years of age I 
 was brought home to my father's. I have 
 frequently been told of the surprise I mani- 
 fested at seeing the lamps lighted in the 
 streets in the evening, at which I exclaimed, 
 " What charming bottles ! " . . . .These little 
 anecdotes, and others of equal importance, 
 interesting only to nurses and fond uncles and 
 
44 Private Memoirs 
 
 aunts, should be here passed over in silence. 
 It will not be expected of me to depict here 
 a little brunette, two years old, whose dark 
 hair played gracefully about a face animated 
 with a glowing complexion, and which breathed 
 the happiness of an age of which it had all the 
 health. I know a better moment for drawing 
 my portrait, and I am not so maladroit as to 
 anticipate it. 
 
 The discretion and other excellent qualities 
 of my mother soon gave her an ascendency 
 over my docile and affectionate disposition, 
 which she never employed but for my good. 
 
 So great was this ascendency, that, in those 
 little disputes unavoidable between authoritative 
 reason and resisting infancy, she found it neces- 
 sary to inflict no other punishment than gravely 
 calling me " Mademoiselle " and fixing on me 
 an eye of reproof. I still recollect the impres- 
 sion made upon me by her look, usually so 
 affectionate ; I hear, with a kind of trembling, 
 this word Mademoiselle substituted, with solemn 
 and touching dignity, for the gentle " ma fille',' 
 or the graceful appellation of Manon. Yes, 
 Manon ; for so I was called. I sympathize with 
 the lovers of romance. Certainly the name is 
 
of Madame Roland 45 
 
 not noble ; it ill suits a heroine in the " grand 
 style;" nevertheless, it was mine; and it is 
 history that I am writing. The most fastidious, 
 however, would have been reconciled to the 
 name, had they heard it pronounced by my 
 mother, and seen her to whom it was addressed. 
 What expression could want grace when she 
 accompanied it with her enchanting tone ? And 
 when her affectionate voice so thrilled my heart, 
 did it not teach me to resemble her? 
 
 Lively, without being boisterous, and natur- 
 ally studious, I required only to be employed, 
 and readily seized every idea that was offered 
 me. This disposition was turned to so good 
 account, that I do not remember having been 
 taught to read. I have heard that at four 
 years old the business, so to speak, was com- 
 pleted, and that, after that period, all that was 
 necessary was to provide me with books. What- 
 ever were put into my hands, or I could any- 
 where obtain, engrossed all my attention, and 
 nothing could divert me from them but a 
 nosegay. The sight of a flower pleases my 
 imagination and flatters my senses to an in- 
 expressible degree; it awakens to luxury the 
 sense of existence. Under the tranquil shelter 
 
46 Private Memoirs 
 
 of my paternal roof, I was happy from my 
 infancy with flowers and books ; in the narrow 
 confines of a prison, amidst the chains imposed 
 by the most revolting tyranny, I have the same 
 sentiment, and I forget the injustice of men, 
 their follies, and my calamities, with books 
 and flowers. 
 
 It was too excellent an opportunity of teach- 
 ing me the Old and New Testaments, and the 
 small and large Catechisms, to be neglected. 
 I learned everything it was thought proper to 
 give me, and I should have repeated the Koran 
 had I been taught to read it. I remember a 
 painter of the name of Guibal, since settled at 
 Stuttgart, who a few years ago wrote an essay 
 in praise of Poussin which obtained the prize 
 from the Academy of Rouen, and who fre- 
 quently came to my father's. He was a merry 
 fellow, who told me many a nonsensical tale, 
 which I have not forgotten, and by which I 
 was vastly amused ; nor was he less diverted in 
 making me display in my turn my slender stock 
 of knowledge. I think I see him now, with his 
 whimsical face, sitting in an arm-chair, taking 
 me between his knees, on which I rested my 
 elbows, and bidding me repeat the Athanasian 
 
of Madame Roland 47 
 
 Creed; then rewarding my compliance with 
 the story of Tanger, whose nose was so long 
 that he was obliged, when he walked, to twist 
 it round his arm. More absurd contrasts than 
 this might be made. 
 
 When seven years old, I was sent every Sun- 
 day to the parish church, to attend " Catechism," 
 as it was called, in order to prepare me for con- 
 firmation. In the present state of things, they 
 who read this passage may perhaps ask what 
 that was ; so I will inform them. In the corner 
 of a church, chapel, or other place of devotion, 
 a few rows of chairs or benches, extending to a 
 certain length, were placed opposite each other. 
 An open space was left in the middle, in which 
 was a seat higher than the rest. This was the 
 curule chair of the young priest, whose office it 
 was to instruct the children that attended. They 
 were made to repeat by heart the Epistle and 
 Gospel for the day, the Collect, and such por- 
 tion of the Catechism as was appointed for the 
 week's task. When the children were nume- 
 rous the catechizing priest had a little clerk who 
 heard them repeat, while the master reserved 
 the more important questions to himself In 
 some parishes pupils of both sexes attended to- 
 
48 Private Memoirs 
 
 gether, ranged only on different forms ; but in 
 parishes in general they attended separately. 
 The mothers of the children, always greedy of the 
 bread of the word, however coarsely prepared, 
 were present at these instructions, which were 
 graduated according to the ages of the pupils, or 
 to their stage of preparedness for confirmation or 
 for receiving the first communion. The zealous 
 curh would from time to time visit their little 
 flocks, who were taught to rise respectfully at 
 their approach. A few questions were put to 
 the more promising children to test their pro- 
 ficiency. The mothers of the ones questioned 
 were elated at the distinction; and the good 
 fathers withdrew amid their grateful curtsies. 
 M. Garat, the rector of my parish, that of Saint 
 Bartholomew, a worthy man with some reputa- 
 tion for learning, in spite of the fact that he was 
 incapable of delivering two sentences together 
 of common sense from the pulpit in which he 
 was ambitious of shining — much as M. Garat, 
 minister of state, is reputed a man of ability, 
 though totally ignorant of his trade — M. Garat, 
 I say, my rector, came one day to my "Cat- 
 echism," and in order to sound the depth of my 
 theological erudition, and display his own 
 
of Madame Roland 49 
 
 sagacity, asked me how many orders of spirits 
 there were in the celestial hierarchy. From 
 the ironical tone and air of triumph with which 
 he put the question, I knew that he expected to 
 puzzle me; and I answered, with a smile, that 
 though many were enumerated in the preface to 
 the Missal, I had read, in other books, of nine, 
 and I repeated to him angels, archangels, thrones, 
 dominions, etc. Never was rector so satisfied 
 with the learning of his neophyte. From that 
 moment also my reputation was established 
 among the devout matrons. I was accordingly 
 a chosen vessel, as hereafter will be seen. 
 
 Some persons will perhaps say, that, with my 
 mother's good sense, it is astonishing she should 
 have sent me to these " Catechisms ; " but there 
 is a reason for everything. My mother had a 
 younger brother, an ecclesiastic belonging to 
 her parish, to whose care was committed the 
 " Catechism of Confirmation," to use the techni- 
 cal term. The presence of his niece was an 
 admirable example, calculated to induce those 
 who were not of what is called the lower order 
 of the people to send their children also ; a cir- 
 cumstance that could not fail to be pleasing to 
 the rector. I had, besides, a memory which 
 4 
 
50 Private Memoirs 
 
 was sure to secure me the first rank ; and every- 
 thing combining to support this superiority, my 
 parents gratified their vanity, while they ap- 
 peared only to pursue the path of humility. It 
 happened that, in the distribution of prizes, 
 which took place, with no small parade, at the 
 end of the year, I obtained the first, without the 
 least partiality being shown me ; and the church- 
 wardens and clergy thought my uncle extremely 
 fortunate, who was on this account the more 
 noticed, which was all that was necessary to 
 prepossess every beholder in his favor. A 
 handsome person, extreme benevolence, an easy 
 temper, the gentlest of manners, and the utmost 
 gayety, attended him to the last moment of his 
 life. He died canon of Vincennes, just as the 
 Revolution was about to abolish all ecclesiasti- 
 cal dignities. I conceive myself to have lost in 
 him the last of my relations on the maternal side, 
 and I cannot recollect a single circumstance 
 respecting him without emotion. My eager- 
 ness to learn and my quickness of apprehension 
 inspired him with the idea of teaching me Latin, 
 I was delighted ; it was a feast for me to find a 
 new subject of study. I had at home masters 
 for writing, geography, dancing, and music ; my 
 
FKOAl THIS PAINTING BTC GOTJPIL 
 
of Madame Roland 5 1 
 
 father instructed me in drawing ; but in all this 
 there was nothing too much. Rising at five in 
 the morning, when every one else in the house 
 was asleep, I used to steal softly, in my bed- 
 gown and without shoes or stockings, to a cor- 
 ner of my mother's chamber, where was the 
 table containing my lessons, which I copied or 
 repeated with such assiduity that my improve- 
 ment was astonishing. My masters became the 
 more attached to me. They gave me long and 
 interesting tasks, which called forth on my part 
 additional attention. I had not a tutor who did 
 not seem as much charmed to teach me as 
 I was grateful for being taught ; not one who, 
 after attending me for a year or two, was 
 not constrained to say that his instructions were 
 unnecessary and that he ought no longer to be 
 paid, at the same time requesting permission 
 to visit my parents occasionally in order to con- 
 verse with me. I shall ever honor the memory 
 of the good M. Marchand, who, when I was five 
 years old, taught me to write and afterwards in- 
 structed me in geography, and with whom I 
 studied history. He was a discreet, patient, 
 clear-headed, and methodical personage, to 
 whom I gave the nickname of " M. Doucet." I 
 
5 2 Private Memoirs 
 
 saw him married to a worthy woman, a dependant 
 of the family of Nesle. I visited him in his last 
 sickness, an attack of the gout, which occasioned 
 his death at the age of fifty. I was then 
 eighteen. 
 
 I have not forgotten my music master Cajon, 
 a little, lively, talkative being, born at Macon, 
 where, when a boy, he had belonged to the 
 choir; he was afterwards, in turn, soldier, de- 
 serter, Capuchin friar, clerk in a counting-house, 
 and, lastly, vagrant, arriving at Paris with a 
 wife and children and without a sou in his 
 pocket. Having a pleasant counter voice, 
 rarely to be met with in men who have not 
 undergone a certain operation, and admirably 
 adapted to the teaching of young persons to 
 sing, he set up as music teacher. He was intro- 
 duced to my father, I know not by whom, and 
 I was his first scholar. He bestowed on me 
 considerable pains. He borrowed money of 
 my parents, which he quickly dissipated ; never 
 returned my collection of lessons by Bordier, 
 which he gleaned with so much art as to com- 
 pile from it an " Elements of Music " which he 
 published under his own name; lived in style, 
 without means ; and, after fifteen years, ended 
 
of Madame Roland 53 
 
 his career by decamping from Paris, where he 
 had involved himself in debt, and repairing to 
 Russia, whence I have never heard of him. 
 
 Of Mozon, the dancing master, an honest and 
 frightfully ugly Savoyard, whose wen I think 
 I still see embellishing his right cheek, as he 
 inclined his pockfretted and flat-nosed visage 
 to the left on his instrument, I might relate 
 some humorous anecdotes; so, too, of poor 
 Mignard, my master for the guitar, a sort of 
 Spanish Colossus, whose hands were like Esau's, 
 and who in gravity, ceremoniousness, and rho- 
 domontade, was inferior to none of his country- 
 men. 
 
 The bashful Watrin, whose fifty years, peri- 
 wig, spectacles, and rubicund face, seemed all 
 in commotion as he placed the fingers of his 
 little scholar on the strings of her fiddle, and 
 taught her to guide the bow, did not continue 
 long with me ; but, to compensate for this, the 
 reverend Father Colomb, a Barnabite, once a 
 missionary, now superior of his convent at the 
 age of seventy-five and my mother's confessor, 
 sent to her house his violoncello, upon which 
 he accompanied me while I played on my 
 guitar. I recollect his astonishment when one 
 
54 Private Memoirs 
 
 day, taking up his instrument, I played with 
 tolerable precision a few airs which I had 
 studied in private. Had there been a double 
 bass in the house, I would have mounted a 
 chair but I would have made something of it. 
 To avoid anachronism, however, it must be 
 observed, that I am here anticipating things 
 and that I am arrived in my narrative at the 
 period only of seven years, to which I return. 
 
 I have advanced thus far without noticing 
 the influence my father had in my education. 
 It was in reality trifling, for he interfered in 
 it but little ; and it may not be amiss to relate 
 an occurrence that induced him to interfere 
 still less. 
 
 I was extremely obstinate; that is to say, 
 I did not readily consent to anything of which 
 I saw not the reason; and when the exercise 
 of authority alone appeared to me, or I fancied 
 that I perceived the dictates of caprice, I could 
 not submit. My mother, penetrating and dis- 
 creet, rightly judged that I must either be 
 governed by reason or drawn by the cords of 
 affection ; and, treating me accordingly, she 
 experienced no opposition to her will. My 
 father, hasty in his manner, issued his orders 
 
of Madame Roland 55 
 
 imperiously, and my compliance was reluctant 
 and slow, if not wholly refused. If, despot- 
 like, he attempted to punish me, his gentle 
 little daughter was converted into a lion. On 
 the two or three occasions when he whipped 
 me, I bit the thigh across which he placed me, 
 and protested against his injunctions. One day, 
 when I was a little indisposed, it was thought 
 proper that I should take some medicine. A 
 draught was brought me; I applied it to my 
 lips ; its smell made me reject it with loathing. 
 My mother employed her influence to over- 
 come my repugnance ; I was desirous of obey- 
 ing her; I exerted the sincerest efforts; but 
 every time the nauseous potion approached 
 my nose, my senses revolted, and I rejected 
 it in spite of myself. My mother's patience 
 was exhausted. I wept both for her and for 
 myself, and was still less capable of complying 
 with her will. My father came; he flew into 
 a rage and whipped me, ascribing my resistance 
 to stubbornness. From that instant all desire 
 of obedience vanished, and I declared openly 
 my resolution not to take the medicine. Great 
 uproar, renewed threats, a second whipping. 
 I was only the more indignant, and shrieked 
 
56 Private Memoirs 
 
 terribly. I lifted my eyes to heaven, and pre- 
 pared to throw away the draught they were 
 again presenting to me. My gestures betrayed 
 me. My father, in a rage, threatened to whip 
 me a third time. I feel, while I write this, the 
 sudden revulsion that came over me. My tears 
 all at once ceased, my sobbings were at an end. 
 A sudden calm concentred my faculties into a 
 single resolution. I raised myself, turned to the 
 bedside, leaned my head against the wall, lifted 
 up my chemise, and exposed myself to the rod 
 in silence. Had my father killed me on the 
 spot, he should not have drawn from me a 
 single sigh. 
 
 My mother, painfully agitated during this 
 scene, had need of all her prudence not to 
 increase my father's rage. Having prevailed 
 on him to quit the room, she put me to bed 
 without saying a word. Two hours after, she 
 returned, and conjured me, with tears in her 
 eyes, to occasion her no further vexation, and 
 to take the medicine. I looked steadfastly in 
 her face, took the glass, and swallowed it at a 
 draught. In a quarter of an hour, however, it 
 was vomited up again, and I was seized with a 
 violent paroxysm of fever, which it was neces- 
 
of Madame Roland 57 
 
 sary to cure by other means than nauseous 
 drugs and whipping. I was at that time little 
 more than six years old. 
 
 All. the circumstances of this scene are as 
 vivid in my mind, all the sensations I exper- 
 ienced as distinct to my imagination, as if they 
 had recently occurred. I have since felt, on 
 serious and trying occasions, the same inflex- 
 ible firmness ; and it would at this moment 
 cost me no more to ascend undauntedly the 
 scaffold, than it did then to resign myself to 
 brutal treatment, which might have killed, but 
 could not conquer me. 
 
 From that instant my father never laid his 
 hand upon me nor even reprimanded me. He 
 frequently caressed " me, taught me to draw, 
 made me the companion of his walks, and 
 treated me with a kindness that rendered him 
 more respectable in my eyes, and obtained 
 him my entire submission. The seventh anni- 
 versary of my birth was celebrated as the 
 attainment of the age of reason, when it might 
 be expected of me to follow its dictates. This 
 was a politic sort of plea for observing towards 
 me a more respectful treatment, that should 
 give me confidence in myself without exciting 
 
58 Private Memoirs 
 
 my vanity. My days flowed gently on in 
 domestic quiet and activity of mind. My 
 mother was almost always at home, and re- 
 ceived but little company. We went out but 
 two days in the week, once to visit the relations 
 of my father, and once on Sunday, to see my 
 grandmother B.imont, go to church, and take a 
 walk. The visit to my grandmother was always 
 after vespers. She was a large and handsome 
 woman, who at an early age had been attacked 
 by the palsy, which affected her understanding; 
 she had gradually sunk into a state of dotage, 
 spending her days in her easy chair at the win- 
 dow, or the fireside, according to the season. 
 An old servant, who had been forty years in 
 the family, had the care of her. This servant, 
 Marie, regularly upon my arrival gave me some 
 dainty or other to eat. So far it was well ; but 
 when this was gone, I was tired of the visit. 
 I sought for books; there was only the Psalter; 
 and, for want of better, I have twenty times read 
 over the French and chanted the Latin. If I 
 was gay, my grandmother would weep; if I 
 fell down, or received a bump, she would burst 
 into a laugh. This did not please me. I was 
 told it was a result of her malady, but I did 
 
of Madame Roland 59 
 
 not find it on that account less mortifying or 
 disagreeable. I could have borne with her 
 laughing at me; but her tears were always 
 accompanied by cries at once shocking and 
 pitiable, which filled me with a species of ter- 
 ror. The old servant vented her garrulity upon 
 my mother, who imposed it upon herself as a 
 duty to spend two hours with my grandmother, 
 complaisantly listening to Marie's babble. This 
 was assuredly a painful exercise of my patience, 
 but I was fain to submit ; for one day, when I 
 cried for vexation and begged to go away, my 
 mother, as a punishment, staid the whole even- 
 ing. She did not fail, at proper times, to repre- 
 sent to me her assiduity in these visits as a strict 
 and affecting duty which it was honorable in me 
 to participate in. I know not how she managed 
 it, but my heart received the lesson with emo- 
 tion. When the Abb6 Bimont happened to be 
 there, it afforded me an inexpressible joy. This 
 dear little uncle made me dance and sing and 
 play; but his visits were seldom, as he had 
 charge of the children of the choir, which nec- 
 essarily confined him at home. This brings to 
 my mind one of his pupils, a lad of a prepos- 
 sessing countenance, whom he was fond of prais- 
 
6o Private Memoirs 
 
 ing, as he gave him, he said, little trouble. 
 His promising talents obtained him, a few years 
 after, a scholarship at some college, and he 
 became an abb6. It was Noel, known at first 
 by some little productions, employed later by 
 the minister Le Brun in the diplomatic line, 
 sent last year to London, and now in Italy. 
 
 My studies occupied my days, which seemed 
 too short to me; for I had never finished all 
 that I wished to have accomplished. Besides 
 the elementary books with which I had been 
 furnished, I soon exhausted our little library. 
 I devoured every volume it contained; and 
 when I lacked new books, I began the old 
 again. I remember two foHo Lives of the Saints, 
 a Bible of the same size in an old version, an 
 old translation of Appian's " Civil Wars," a de- 
 scription of Turkey written in a wretched style, 
 all which I read many. times over. I also found 
 the " Comical Romance " of Scarron ; some 
 collections of alleged bons-mots, on which I did 
 not bestow a second perusal ; the " Memoirs " of 
 the brave de Pontis, which were amusing ; those 
 of Mademoiselle de Montpensier, whose pride 
 did not displease me; and some other anti- 
 quated books, the contents, binding, blots, and 
 
of Madame Roland 6 i 
 
 moth-eaten state of which I still remember. 
 The passion for learning possessed me to such 
 a degree, that, having fallen upon a treatise on 
 the art of heraldry, I set myself instantly to 
 study it. It had colored plates, with which I 
 was diverted, and I was desirous of knowing the 
 names of all the little figures they contained. I 
 soon astonished my father with a display of 
 science, by making some remarks on a seal 
 that was not engraved agreeably to the rules 
 of the art. On this subject I became his 
 oracle, and I never misled him. A short trea- 
 tise on contracts fell into my hands. This also 
 I endeavored to learn, for I read nothing which 
 I was not ambitious of retaining ; but it soon 
 tired me, so that I' did not reach the fourth 
 chapter. 
 
 To the Bible I was much attached, and I 
 continually resorted to it. In our old transla- 
 tions things are expressed with blunt plainness 
 and without the smallest circumlocution, as in 
 books of anatomy. I was struck with certain 
 simple expressions, which have never escaped 
 my memory. Hence I derived information not 
 usually given to girls of my age; but it ex- 
 hibited itself to me in no very seducing light. 
 
62 Private Memoirs 
 
 I had too much exercise for my thoughts to be 
 inclined to give attention to things of this mere 
 material nature, and which appeared to my 
 imagination endowed with so few attractions. I 
 could not, however, help laughing when my 
 grandmamma spoke to me of little children dug 
 out of the parsley-bed ; and I told her that my 
 Ave Maria informed me they came from another 
 place, without troubling my head in what man- 
 ner they got there. 
 \^In rummaging the house I found a source of 
 reading which I husbanded for a considerable 
 time. What my father called his atelier adjoined 
 the apartment in which I usually sat, which was 
 a handsome room that might not improperly be 
 styled a salon, but which my mother modestly 
 called a parlor, neatly furnished, and orna- 
 mented with looking-glasses and pictures. It 
 was here I received my lessons. The recess, lit 
 by a small window on one side of the fireplace, 
 was converted into a closet, in which was placed 
 a bed (so closely shut in that I was obliged to 
 get into it at the foot), a chair, a small table, and 
 a few shelves. This was my sanctum. On the 
 opposite side of the salon was the atelier, a 
 large room littered with engravings, carvings, 
 
of Madame Roland 63 
 
 etc., into which I stole of an evening, or at 
 those hours when no person was there. I had 
 remarked a secret corner where one of the 
 young men hid some books. I took away one 
 at a time with the utmost caution, and hastened 
 to my den to devour it, taking care to replace 
 it at a proper time, without mentioning it to 
 any person. They were in general a good sort 
 of books. One day I perceived that my mother 
 had made the same discovery. I saw a volume 
 in her hands which had previously passed 
 through mine. I then no longer felt myself 
 under restraint; and, without telling a false- 
 hood, observing silence on what had passed, 
 I assumed the appearance of having followed 
 her example. This young man whose name 
 was Courson, to which he afterwards prefixed 
 the de when he winded himself into place at 
 Versailles as teacher to the pages, did not at all 
 resemble his comrades: he was not destitute 
 of politeness, had an air of good breeding, and 
 sought instruction. He said nothing of the 
 occasional disappearance of his books, so that 
 it seemed as if there had been a tacit compact 
 between the parties. In this way I read many 
 volumes of travels, of which I was passionately 
 
64 Private Memoirs 
 
 fond ; among others, those of Regnard, which 
 were the first; some plays of second-rate 
 authors, and Dacier's Plutarch. This last work 
 was more to my taste than anything I had yet 
 seen, not excepting even pathetic stories, by 
 which I was however much interested, as that 
 of the unfortunate couple, by Labedoyere, 
 which I have now by me, though I have never 
 since read it. But Plutarch seemed to be 
 exactly the food that suited my mind. I 
 shall never forget the Lent of 1763, at which 
 time I was nine years of age, when I carried 
 it to church instead of my prayer-book. From 
 that period I may date the impressions and 
 ideas that rendered me a republican, though I 
 did not dream at the time that I should ever 
 become a citizen of a republic."^ 
 
 " Telemachus," and "Jerusalem DeUvered" 
 interfered a little with the current of these ma- 
 jestic thoughts. The tender F^nelon moved my 
 heart, and Tasso fired my imagination. Some- 
 times I read aloud at the request of my mother, 
 an occupation of which I was by no means 
 fond, as it suited not that thoughtfulness which 
 formed my delight, and which led me to pro- 
 ceed with less rapidity. But I would have 
 
of Madame Roland 65 
 
 plucked out my tongue rather than have read 
 in this manner the episodes of the island of 
 Calypso, and a number of passages in Tasso. 
 My respiration quickened, a sudden glow over- 
 spread my countenance, and my altered voice 
 would have betrayed my agitation. With Tele- 
 machus I was Eucharis, and Herminia with 
 Tancred. Completely transformed into these 
 personages, I had iio consciousness of any 
 other existence. I forgot myself, I was re- 
 gardless of everything around me. I was the 
 very characters themselves, and I saw only the 
 objects which existed for them. It was a trance 
 that absorbed all my faculties. Meanwhile, I 
 recollect having seen with considerable emo- 
 tion a young painter of the name of Taboral, 
 who came occasionally to our house. He was 
 about twenty years of age, had a soft voice, 
 languishing features, and blushed like a girl. 
 When I heard him in the work-shop, I had 
 always a crayon or something to fetch ; but 
 as the sight of him was as embarrassing as 
 agreeable to me, I returned more speedily than 
 I entered, and ran to conceal my beating heart 
 and trembling limbs in my closet. I can 
 readily believe at present, that, with such a 
 S 
 
66 Private Memoirs 
 
 disposition, assisted by leisure or a certain 
 species of company, both the imagination and 
 the conduct might undergo a very speedy re- 
 volution. The works of which I have been 
 speaking gave place to others, and their im- 
 pressions were softened. Some of the writings 
 of Voltaire in particular were instrumental in 
 producing this effect. One day as I was amus- 
 ing myself with " Candide," my mother having 
 left the room for a moment, the lady with 
 whom she was playing piquet asked me to 
 show her the book I was reading. On my 
 mother's return she expressed her astonish- 
 ment at finding such a work in my hands; 
 my mother, without replying, contented herself 
 with bidding me carry it back to the place from 
 which I had taken it. I regarded with an un- 
 favorable eye this woman, fat and unwieldy, 
 assuming a consequential grimace on what she 
 had done; and I have never since honored 
 Madame Charbonn6 with a smile. My good 
 mother, however, made no alteration in her 
 conduct, but permitted me to read whatever 
 books I could procure, without seeming to 
 attend to them, though she knew very well 
 what they were. Meanwhile no immoral pub- 
 
of Madame Roland 67 
 
 lication fell in my way; even to this day I 
 know only the titles of two or three ; and the 
 taste I have acquired has never exposed me 
 to the smallest temptation of procuring them. 
 As I preferred books to everything else, my 
 father sometimes made me presents of this 
 kind; but, piquing himself as he did on 
 seconding my propensity to serious studies, 
 his choice was whimsical enough. For instance, 
 he gave me Fdnelon on female education, and 
 Locke on that of children, thus putting into 
 the hands of the pupil what were designed for 
 the tutor. I am persuaded, however, that this 
 mistake was not unproductive of benefit, and 
 that chance served me better than perhaps de- 
 sign might have done. I was arrived at con- 
 siderable maturity ; I loved to reflect ; I thought 
 with seriousness of forming my character, that 
 is, I studied the movements of my mind; I 
 sought to know myself; I felt that I had a 
 destination which I must enable myself to fill. 
 Religious notions began to ferment in my brain, 
 and soon produced a violent explosion. But 
 before I describe them, it may be proper to 
 know what became of my Latin. 
 
 The rudiments of grammar were well arranged 
 
68 Private Memoirs 
 
 in my head. I declined nouns and conjugated 
 verbs, though it appeared to me tiresome 
 enough ; but the hope of reading one day in 
 that language the admirable productions of 
 which I had heard, and of which my books 
 gave me some idea, supported my courage 
 through the dryness and difficulty of the task. 
 It was not thus with my little uncle, for so I 
 called the Abb6 Bimont. Young, good-hum- 
 ored, indolent, and gay, bestowing no pains on 
 any one, and as little inclined to take any 
 for himself, he was completely tired of playing 
 the pedagogue with the children of the choir; 
 and, respecting myself, he liked better to take a 
 stroll with me than to give me a lesson, or to 
 make me laugh and play than to hear me repeat 
 my rudiments. He was little punctual either as 
 to the hour or the day of coming to our house, 
 and a thousand circumstances combined to 
 defer his lessons ; but I was desirous of learn- 
 ing, and loath to relinquish what I had once 
 undertaken. It was accordingly resolved that I 
 should go to him three mornings in the week, 
 but he was seldom at leisure to dedicate even a 
 few moments to me ; I found him either busied 
 in parish affairs, occupied with the children, or 
 
of Madame Roland 69 
 
 breakfasting with a friend. I lost my time, the 
 winter arrived, and my Latin was abandoned. 
 From this attempt I have preserved only a sort 
 of glimmering or instinct of knowledge, that, on 
 devotional occasions, enabled me to repeat or 
 chant the psalms without being absolutely igno- 
 rant of what I was saying, and which gave me 
 considerable facility for the study of languages 
 in general, particularly the Italian, which I 
 learnt a few years after, without a master and 
 without difficulty. 
 
 My father took but little pains to perfect me 
 in drawing ; he rather amused himself with my 
 aptitude than endeavored to cultivate in me 
 extraordinary talents. A few words dropped 
 by my mother in the course of conversation 
 gave me to understand that, from prudential 
 motives, she was not desirous of my making 
 any great proficiency in the art " I would not 
 have her become a painter," said she ; " it may 
 lead her, from the nature of the study, to con- 
 nections which we may not approve." I had 
 also begun engraving. Nothing came amiss to 
 me. I learned to handle the graver, and soon 
 surmounted the first difficulties. On the birth- 
 days of my good old relations, which were 
 
yo Private Memoirs 
 
 always religiously celebrated, I carried for my 
 present either a head which I had drawn with 
 unusual care for the occasion, or a neat copper- 
 plate engraving, consisting of a nosegay and 
 some complimentary verses, written with care, 
 and in which my " M. Doucet " had assisted me 
 in turning the rhymes. In return I received 
 almanacs, which greatly amused me, and pre- 
 sents of such little trinkets as were adapted to 
 my use, and which were commonly ornaments 
 of dress, of which I was fond. My mother en- 
 couraged this taste in me. In her own dress she 
 was plain, and frequently even negligent ; but 
 her daughter was her doll, whom she delighted 
 to decorate ; and from my infancy I was dressed 
 with a degree of elegance, and even richness, 
 apparently superior to my station. The dresses 
 that were in fashion for young ladies in those 
 days were made like the court robes, fitting 
 close at the waist, which it displayed to advan- 
 tage, full below, with a long train sweeping the 
 ground and adorned with different trimmings, 
 according to the taste of the wearer. Mine 
 were of fine silk, of some simple pattern and 
 modest color, but in price and quality equal to 
 the best gala suits of my mother. My toilet 
 
of Madame Roland 7 i 
 
 was a grievous business to me, for my hair was 
 frequently frizzed, papered, tortured with hot 
 irons, and all the ridiculous and barbarous im- 
 plements at that time in use. My head was 'so 
 extremely tender, and the pulling that was 
 necessary so painful, that, upon occasions of 
 full dress, it always forced tears from me, 
 though I uttered no complaint. 
 
 Methinks I hear it asked, For whose eyes, in 
 the retired life I led, was all this finery? They 
 who ask the question ought to recollect that 
 I went out two days in the week ; and if they 
 were acquainted with the manners of what was 
 at that time called the " bourgeois " of Paris, 
 they would know that in this class there were 
 thousands of women whose outlay on dress 
 had no other object than an exhibition of a 
 few hours on Sunday in the Tuileries and at 
 church, and the pleasure of parading slowly 
 along the street in which they lived in the 
 view of their neighbors. Add to this, the fam- 
 ily visits on the grand occasions of birthdays. 
 New- Year's days, weddings and christenings, 
 and there will be found sufficient opportuni- 
 ties for the gratification of vanity. More than 
 one contrast, however, may be observed in 
 
7 2 Private Memoirs 
 
 my education. This little lady, exhibited on 
 Sundays at church and in the public walks in 
 a dress which you would have supposed to 
 haV^e alighted from a carriage, and whose de- 
 meanor and language were perfectly consonant 
 with her appearance, would go to market with 
 her mother on a week-day in a coarse stuff 
 frock, or alone to the next greengrocer's to 
 buy a little parsley or salad which the servant 
 had forgotten. It must be confessed this was 
 not very pleasing to me; but I showed no 
 signs of dislike, and I acquitted myself of my 
 commission so as to find in it amusement. I 
 behaved with such civility, and at the same 
 time with such dignity, that the mistress of 
 the shop took pleasure in serving me first; 
 yet those who came before me were not of- 
 fended. I always found means to exchange 
 some compliment, and grew only the more 
 ceremonious and obliging. This little girl, who 
 read serious works, could explain the circles 
 of the celestial sphere, handle the crayon and 
 the graver, and at the age of eight was the 
 best dancer of a number of young persons 
 older than herself assembled at some family 
 feast, was frequently called to the kitchen to 
 
of Madame Roland 73 
 
 make an omelet, pick herbs, or skim the pot. 
 This mixture of serious studies, agreeable re- 
 laxations, and domestic cares, tempered by my 
 mother's prudence, fitted me for all situations, 
 and seemed to indicate a premonition of vicissi- 
 tudes in my fortunes and to prepare me to 
 endure them. In no occupation am I at a 
 loss ; I can prepare my own dinner as handily 
 as Philopoemen cut his wood ; but no one who 
 saw me thus engaged would think it a suitable 
 employment for me. 
 
 It may be supposed from what I have already 
 related that my mother did not neglect what 
 is termed religion. She was pious, without 
 being a devotee; she was, or endeavored to 
 be, a believer, and she conformed to the rules 
 of the church with the humility and regularity 
 of one whose he£irt, having need of the sup- 
 port of its main principles, troubles itself but 
 little with its details. The reverential air with 
 which the first notions of religion had been 
 presented to me, had disposed me to consider 
 them with attention. They were of a nature to 
 make considerable impression on a lively imagi- 
 nation; and notwithstanding the embarrass- 
 ments in which I was involved by my dawning 
 
74 Private Memoirs 
 
 powers of reason, which regarded with surprise 
 the transformation of the devil into a serpent, 
 and thought it cruel in God to have permitted 
 it, I at last believed and adored. I received 
 confirmation with the thoughtfulness of a mind 
 that considers the importance of its actions, 
 and meditates on its duties. The preparing 
 me for my first communion was talked of, and 
 I felt myself penetrated with a pious awe. I 
 read books of devotion ; it was proper to direct 
 my attention to the grand theme of eternal 
 happiness or misery, and all my thoughts were 
 insensibly turned to those points. Religious 
 ideas soon gained a complete ascendency over 
 my heart. The reign of sentiment, hastened 
 thereby in my already forward constitution, 
 commenced with the love of God, the sublime 
 ecstasy of which graced and purified the years 
 of my youth, and resigned me afterwards to 
 the dominion of philosophy, and thus seems 
 to have preserved me from the tempest of the 
 passions, from which, endowed as I am with 
 the vigor of an athlete, I with difficulty pre- 
 served my riper age. 
 
 This devotional turn worked an astonishing 
 alteration in me. I became profoundly humble 
 
of Madame Roland 75 
 
 and inexpressibly timid. I looked upon men 
 with a sort of terror, which increased when any 
 of them appeared to me attractive. I watched 
 over my thoughts with extreme scrupulosity; 
 the least profane image that offered itself to my 
 mind, however confusedly, seemed to me a 
 crime; I contracted such a habit of reserve, 
 that, perusing, at sixteen, when I was no longer 
 a devotee, Buffon's " Natural History " I skipped 
 the article on Man, and passed over the ac- 
 companying plates with the speed and terror 
 of a person beholding a precipice. In short, 
 I did not marry till 1 was twenty-five; and 
 with a heart such as may easily be imagined, 
 with senses highly inflammable, and with con- 
 siderable information as to several points, I had 
 so well avoided all knowledge as to some others 
 that I was surprised, as well as disillusionized, 
 by the consequences of marriage. 
 
 My life, every day more retired, soon ap- 
 peared to me still too worldly to think of ven- 
 turing on my first communion. This important 
 ceremony, which was to have such influence on 
 my eternal salvation, occupied all my thoughts. 
 I acquired a taste for the holy offices; their 
 solemnity struck me. I read with avidity the 
 
76 Private Memoirs 
 
 explanation of the ceremonies of the church; 
 my mind was full of their mystic signification. 
 Every day I turned over my folios of the Lives 
 of the Saints, and I sighed for those days when 
 the persecuting fury of paganism obtained for 
 courageous Christians the crown of martyrdom. 
 I thought seriously of embracing a new kind of 
 life, and, after profound meditations, I formed 
 my project. Hitherto the bare idea of separa- 
 tion from my mother had been insupportable ; 
 and whenever, amusing herself with the sudden 
 clouds with which sensibility overcast my ex- 
 pressive brow, she jested of convents and the 
 necessity of young women residing in them for 
 a while, torrents of tears would flow from my 
 eyes. But what ought we not to sacrifice to the 
 Lord? I had formed those grand or romantic 
 ideas of the solitude and silence of the cloister 
 which an active imagination would naturally 
 engender. The more solemn its abode, the 
 more it was adapted to the disposition of my 
 inspired mind. One evening, after supper, be- 
 ing alone with my parents, I threw myself at 
 their feet; tears choked my utterance; aston- 
 ished, alarmed, they asked the meaning of my 
 strange emotion. " I implore your consent," 
 
of Madame Roland 77 
 
 said I, sobbing, " to a proposal that rends my 
 heart while I make it, but which my con- 
 science demands of me. Place me in a con- 
 vent." They raised me from the ground. My 
 mother was moved ; she would have shuddered 
 at the idea of what might be the cause, but 
 that, having lately been constantly about my 
 person, she had nothing to dread. They in- 
 quired into the motives of this determination, 
 observing, at the same time, that they had 
 never refused me anything that was reasonable. 
 I answered that it arose from a wish to prepare 
 myself with due solemnity for my first com- 
 munion. My father commended my zeal, and 
 expressed his readiness to comply with my 
 wishes. They deliberated on the choice of a 
 house. My family had no relatives in any 
 religious institution, but they recollected hear- 
 ing my music-master speak of a convent in 
 which he attended some young ladies of rank, 
 and they resolved to make inquiries concerning 
 it. They found it to be a respectable house, 
 and of an order not very strict. The nuns had 
 in consequence the reputation of not practising 
 those extravagances and mummeries for which 
 they are generally distinguished ; besides, their 
 
yS Private Memoirs 
 
 special occupation was the education of youth. 
 They kept a day school for children of the 
 lower class, whom they taught gratis, in con- 
 formity with their vows, in a hall set apart for 
 the purpose ; separate from this they had a 
 boarding-school for such young women as were 
 confided to their care. 
 
 My mother took the necessary steps, and after 
 accompanying me to my aged relations, whom 
 she informed of my resolution, which was highly 
 commended by them, she conducted me to the 
 sisterhood of the Congregation, rue Neuve 
 Saint Etienne, faubourg Saint Marcel, near the 
 very prison in which I am now confined. As I 
 pressed my dear mother in my arms, separating 
 from her for the first time in my life, my heart 
 felt as if it would burst ; but I obeyed the voice 
 of God, and passed the threshold of the cloister, 
 offering Him with tears the greatest sacrifice I 
 could make. This was the seventh of May, 1765, 
 when I was eleven years and two months old. 
 
 In the gloom of a prison, in the midst of those 
 civil commotions which ravage my country and 
 sweep away all that is dear to me, how shall I 
 recall to my mind, how describe that period of 
 rapture and tranquillity? What pencil can 
 
of Madame Roland 79 
 
 depict the ecstatic emotions of a young heart 
 endued with tenderness and sensibility, greedy 
 of happiness, in which the feelings of nature 
 began to awaken, and that perceived no other 
 object but the Deity? The first night that I 
 spent at the convent was a night of agitation. 
 I was no longer under my parental roof; I was 
 at a distance from that kind mother who was 
 doubtless thinking of me with affectionate emo- 
 tion. A dim light pervaded the chamber in 
 which, with four children of my own age, I was 
 to sleep. I rose softly from my bed, and went 
 to the window: it opened upon the garden, 
 which the moon enabled me to distinguish. The 
 deepest silence prevailed ; I listened to it, if I 
 may so speak, with reverence. The lofty trees 
 cast their gigantic shadows from space to space, 
 and promised a secure asylum to calm medi- 
 tation. I lifted my eyes to the heavens ; they 
 were serene and unclouded. I imagined that I 
 felt the presence of the Deity smiling on my 
 sacrifice, and already offering me its reward in 
 the consolatory peace of a celestial abode. 
 Tears of delight flowed gently down my cheeks. 
 I repeated my vows with holy transport, and 
 withdrew to taste the slumber of the elect. 
 
8o Private Memoirs 
 
 As it was evening when I arrived, I had as 
 yet not seen all the boarders. They were thirty- 
 four in number, ranging from the age of six to 
 that of seventeen or eighteen, united in one 
 class, but divided between two tables at meals, 
 and as it were into two sections in the course 
 of the day, to perform their exercises. From 
 the gravity of my appearance, it was judged 
 proper, notwithstanding my youth, to place me 
 among the oldest. I accordingly became the 
 twelfth at their table, and was the youngest 
 among them. The tone of politeness which 
 my mother had taught me, the sedate air of 
 which I had contracted a habit, my courteous 
 and correct mode of speaking, in no way re- 
 sembled the noisy and thoughtless mirth of my 
 volatile companions. The children addressed 
 themselves to me with a sort of confidence, be- 
 cause my nature would never suffer me to re- 
 pulse them; the older girls treated me with a 
 sort of respect, because my reserve, without 
 rendering me less obliging to them, caused me 
 to be distinguished by the sisters. Brought up 
 as I had hitherto been, it was not surprising that 
 I should be found better informed than most of 
 my class, despite their superiority in years. The 
 
of Madame Roland 8 i 
 
 nuns perceived that they might derive honor 
 from my education, from the simple circum- 
 stance of my being under their care, without its 
 being necessary for them to take any pains to 
 continue it. I knew already, or very easily 
 learnt, lall they were capable of teaching me. I 
 became the favorite of the whole sisterhood; 
 they contended who should caress and compli- 
 ment me the most. The one whose office it 
 was to teach the boarders to write was seventy 
 years of age, and had become a nun at fifty in 
 consequence of some misfortune. She had been 
 well educated, and to this advantage was added 
 that of good breeding and a knowledge of the 
 world. She prided herself on her skill in in- 
 struction. She wrote a fine hand, embroidered 
 with elegance, was versed in orthography, and 
 not unacquainted with history. Her diminutive 
 figure, her age, and a mixture of pedantry 
 occasioned, however, this mother Sainte Sophie 
 to be treated by her giddy little pupils with 
 less respect than she merited. The jealousy of 
 the sisters also, if I remember right, contributed 
 to this effect ; envious of talents which they did 
 not possess, they were fond of holding her up 
 to ridicule. This worthy nun, attracted by niy 
 6 
 
8 2 Private Memoirs 
 
 studious disposition, soon became attached to 
 me. After giving a lesson to the class, she 
 would take me aside, make me repeat my gram- 
 mar, go over my maps, and question me upon 
 history. She even obtained permission to take 
 me to her cell, where she employed me in read- 
 ing to her. 
 
 Of my former tutors I retained only one, my 
 music-master, of whom I received lessons in 
 the parlor, with two of my companions, under 
 the inspection of a nun ; and to continue my 
 drawing I had a female tutor who was admitted 
 for the purpose into the convent. 
 
 The regularity of a Hfe occupied with a 
 variety of pursuits, was perfectly suited to the 
 activity of my mind, as well as to my natural 
 taste for method and application. I was one 
 of the first at everything ; and still I had leisure 
 because I was diligent, and lost not a moment 
 of my time. In the hours of recreation I did 
 not run and frolic with the crowd, but sat down 
 alone under some tree to read or to meditate. 
 How sensible was I to the beauty of the foliage, 
 the breath of the zephyrs, and the perfume of 
 the surrounding flowers ! Ever3rwhere I beheld 
 th^ hand of the Deity; I saw His beneficent 
 
of Madame Roland 8 3 
 
 cares; I admired His works.' Moved with grati- 
 tude, I went to adore Him in the chapel, where 
 the solemn tones of the organ, blended with the 
 fresh voices of the young nuns chanting their 
 aathems, completed my happiness. Independ- 
 ently of meiss, to which all the boarders were 
 regularly conducted in the morning, there was 
 half-an-hour in the afternoon of ordinary days 
 consecrated to meditation, to which those only 
 were admitted who appeared capable of the 
 seriousness requisite to the enjoyment of devo- 
 tional reading. I had no need to solicit this 
 favor, which they were eager to confer upon 
 me as a recompense for my zeal ; but I re- 
 quested with fervor the privilege of receiving 
 my first communion at the approaching solem- 
 nity, the Feast of the Assumption. Though 
 this festival fell shortly after my entrance into 
 the convent, the request was granted with the 
 unanimous consent of the superiors and the 
 Director. This Director, who was a man of 
 good sense, was a monk of the monastery of 
 St. Victor, where he officiated as curi. He had 
 accepted, in addition, the office of confessor to 
 the Congregation, an office for which his age 
 (which was past fifty), his equable temper, his 
 
84 Private Memoirs 
 
 austerity of morals and bearing, well fitted him. 
 When I was confided to his care, M. Garat, the 
 priest of my parish, took the trouble to come 
 himself to the convent to deposit his tender 
 lamb in the hands of this holy shepherd. 
 They met in the parlor, where, from my being 
 present, they conversed in Latin, a tongue of 
 which I understood but little, though I com- 
 prehended a few words in my praise. These 
 never escape the penetration of a female, how- 
 ever young she may be, or in whatever language 
 they are uttered. I gained considerably by the 
 change. Garat was a mere pedant, in whom I 
 should have beheld the sternness of a spiritual 
 judge ; the monk of St. Victor was an upright 
 and enlightened man, who directed my pious 
 affections to all that is great and sublime in 
 morality, and who took a pleasure in developing 
 the germs of virtue through the instrumentality 
 of religion, without any absurd mixture of its 
 mysticism. I loved him as a father, and during 
 the three years that he lived after my quitting 
 the convent, I went regularly to St. Victor's, 
 which was at a considerable distance, on the 
 eve of each of the grand festivals, to confess 
 myself to him. 
 
of Madame Roland 85 
 
 It cannot be denied that the Catholic religion, 
 though little suited to a sound judgment and 
 an enUghtened mind which is accustomed to 
 subject the objects of its faith to the rules of 
 reason, is well calculated to captivate the imagi- 
 nation,* which it strikes by means of the gran- 
 diose and awful, while at the same time it 
 captivates the senses by mystic ceremonies, 
 alternately soothing and melancholy. Eternity, 
 always present to the mind of its sectaries, 
 calls them to contemplation. It renders them 
 scrupulous appreciators of good and evil, while 
 its daily practices and imposing rites contribute 
 to relieve and support the attention, and offer 
 the easy means of advancing towards the end 
 proposed. Women are wonderful adepts in 
 heightening these practices, or accompanying 
 these rites with whatever can add to their 
 charms and splendor; and nuns in particular 
 excel in this art. A novice took the veil soon 
 after my arrival at the convent. The church 
 and the altar were decorated with flowers, with 
 brilliant lustres, curtains of silk, and other 
 superb embellishments. The gathering was 
 numerous, and filled the space exterior to the 
 altar with the gay and festive air of a wedding. 
 
86 Private Memoirs 
 
 The young victim appeared at the grate tri- 
 umphant, and adorned with the utmost pomp, 
 of which, however, she soon divested herself, 
 to appear again covered with a white veil, and 
 crowned with roses. I still feel the agitation 
 which her slightly tremulous voice occasioned 
 me, when she melodiously chanted the cus- 
 tomary verse, Elegit, etc. : Here have I chosen 
 my abode, and will establish it forever. I have 
 not forgotten the notes of this Httle anthem; 
 I can repeat them as accurately as if I had 
 heard them but yesterday. Would I could 
 chant them in America ! Great God, with 
 what accents would I utter them ! — When the 
 novice had pronounced her vows, she was 
 covered, as she lay prostrate on the ground, 
 with a pall, under which one might have sup- 
 posed her to be buried. I shuddered with 
 terror. To me it represented the image of an 
 absolute dissolution of every earthly tie, and 
 the renunciation of all that was dear to her. 
 I was no longer myself; I was the very victim 
 of the sacrifice. I thought they were tearing 
 me from my mother, and I shed torrents of 
 tears. Endowed with this faculty of sensibility, 
 which renders impressions so profound, and 
 
of Madame Roland 87 
 
 occasions so many things to affect us vividly, 
 that pass away like shadows before the eyes 
 of the vulgar, our existence never grows listless. 
 Accordingly I have reflected on mine from an 
 early period, without having once found it a 
 burden, even in the midst of its severest trials ; 
 and, though not yet forty, I may be said to have 
 lived a prodigious age, if life be measured by 
 the sentiment which has marked every instant 
 of its duration. 
 
 I should have too many scenes of a similar 
 nature to recount, were I to go over all which 
 the emotions of a tender piety have engraven 
 on my heart. The charm and habit of these 
 sensations became so powerful as never to have 
 been erased from it. Philosophy has dissipated 
 the illusions of a chimerical faith; but it has 
 not annihilated the effect of certain objects on 
 my senses, or their association with the ideas 
 and dispositions which they were accustomed 
 to excite. I can still attend divine service with 
 pleasure, if it be performed with solemnity; 
 I forget the quackery of priests, their ridiculous 
 fables and absurd mysteries, and see only weak 
 mortals united together to implore the succor 
 of the Supreme Being. The miseries of man- 
 
88 Private Memoirs 
 
 kind and the consolatory hope of an omnipo- 
 tent Repairer of the world's injustice occupy 
 my thoughts. Every extraneous idea is ex- 
 cluded; the passions subside into tranquillity, 
 and a sense of my duties is quickened. If 
 music form a part of the ceremony, I find my- 
 self transported to another world, and I come 
 away with a chastened heart from a place to 
 which the ignorant and unreflecting crowd 
 resort to adore a morsel of bread. It is with 
 religion as with many other human institutions: 
 it does not change the disposition of an individ- 
 ual, but assimilates itself to his nature, and is 
 exalted or enfeebled accordingly. The herd 
 of mankind think but little, believe on the hear- 
 say of another, and act from instinct; so that 
 there prevails a perpetual contradiction between 
 the principles they admit, and the conduct 
 they pursue. Strong minds proceed differently ; 
 they require consistency, and their actions are 
 the index of their faith. In my infancy, I 
 necessarily embraced the creed that was offered 
 me : it was mine till my reason was sufficiently 
 enlightened to examine it, and all my actions 
 were strictly conformable thereto. I was as- 
 tonished at the levity of those who, professing 
 
of Madame Roland 8g 
 
 a similar faith, acted in contradiction to it — 
 in like manner as I now feel indignation against 
 the cowardice of men who, desirous of having 
 a country, set a value on life when it is to be 
 risked in its service. 
 
 While I would avoid repetitions upon the same 
 subject, I cannot help remarking a striking cir- 
 cumstance which took place upon my first com- 
 munion. Prepared by all the means customary 
 in convents, by retirement, long prayers, silence, 
 and meditation, it was considered by me as a 
 solemn engagement, and the pledge of eternal 
 felicity. This idea completely absorbed me. 
 It inflamed my imagination, and softened my 
 heart to such a degree that, bathed in tears, 
 and enraptured with divine love, I was incapable 
 of walking to the altar without the assistance of 
 a nun, who supported me by the arm and 
 aided me to advance to the holy table. These 
 appearances, which I in no respect sought to 
 display, obtained me considerable credit, and 
 all the good old women I met in my way re- 
 commended themselves to an interest in my 
 prayers. 
 
 Methinks I hear the reader ask, as he finishes 
 this paragraph, if this heart so tender, this 
 
go Private Memoirs 
 
 extreme sensibility, was not at length exer- 
 cised on more real objects ; and whether, hav- 
 ing contemplated bliss at so early an age, I did 
 not realize it in a passion, of which some indi- 
 vidual shared with me the fruits? 
 
 To which I answer, let us not anticipate. 
 Dwell with me a while on those peaceful days 
 of holy delusion to which I still love to revert. 
 Think you that, in an age so corrupted, in a 
 social order so unjustly constituted, it is-possible 
 to taste the delights of nature and innocence? 
 Vulgar souls find gross pleasures ; others, whom 
 these pleasures are insufficient to interest, ex- 
 cited by the illusions of passions, and coerced 
 by severe and absurd injunctions, which they 
 honor while they discharge, know scarcely any 
 other delight than that of the dear-bought glory • 
 of fulfilling them. Let us confine our attention 
 for the present to the mild and pure friend- 
 ship which now offered me its charms, and to 
 which I have been indebted for so many happy 
 moments. 
 
 Some months had elapsed since my arrival at 
 the convent. I spent my time there in the 
 occupations I have already described. Once a 
 week I was visited by my parents, who took me 
 
of Madame Roland 91 
 
 with them on Sundays, after service, to walk in 
 the Jarditi du Roi, which is now the Jardin des 
 Plantes. I never quitted them without shed- 
 ding tears, which were caused by my love for 
 them, and not by regret at my situation ; for I 
 reentered with joy those tranquil cloisters, 
 which I used slowly to traverse, the better to 
 enjoy and drink in their solitude. Sometimes I 
 would halt beside a tomb on which was in- 
 scribed the eulogy of some pious maiden. 
 " She is happy ! " I would exclaim with a 
 sigh.. Then a pleasing melancholy would per- 
 vade my soul which made me ;geek in the bosom 
 of the Deity, and in the hope of being one 
 day received into it, that felicity for which I 
 longed. * 
 
 The arrival of some new boarders caused a 
 ripple of excitement in our little circle. Two 
 young ladies from Amiens had been announced. 
 The curiosity of the girls of a convent is more 
 lively upon such occasions than one would 
 imagine. It was on a summer's evening, and 
 we were walking under the trees. " There they 
 are ! there they are ! " was the sudden exclama- 
 tion. The first mistress committed the strang- 
 ers to the care of the nun whose business it was 
 
92 Private Memoirs 
 
 to superintend the boarders. The crowd gath- 
 ered round them, separated, returned again, and 
 at length walked in groups in the same alley 
 to examine them. They were two sisters of 
 the name of Cannet. The elder was about 
 eighteen, of a fine shape, easy and careless de- 
 portment, with a mixture at the same time of 
 sensibility and pride that implied a dislike of 
 her situation. The younger was scarcely more 
 than fourteen; a veil of white gauze covered 
 her mild countenance, and ill concealed the 
 tears that bedewed it. I felt interested in her; 
 I stopped to examine her more closely, and 
 then mingled with the talkers to discover what 
 they knew of her. 
 
 She was the favorite, it seemed, of her 
 mother, whom she tenderly loved, and from 
 whom it was so painful to her to be separated 
 that her sister had been made to accompany 
 her the better to reconcile her to the idea. 
 Both were seated at supper at the same table 
 with myself. Sophie, the younger, ate but 
 sparingly. Her mute grief, so far from being 
 repellent, could not fail to attract all who ob- 
 served her. Her sister appeared less occupied 
 in consoling her than in chafing over her own 
 
of Madame Roland 93 
 
 hardships — and not altogether without rea- 
 son. A girl of eighteen, banished from the 
 gay world into which she had just entered, 
 and condemned to the seclusion of a convent 
 as the companion of her sister, she might well 
 consider herself sacrificed by her mother, who 
 had, indeed, been partly influenced by the hope 
 of thus repressing a somewhat too vivacious 
 temperament. It was not necessary to be long 
 in the company of the lively Henriette to dis- 
 cover this. Frank even to brusqueness, im- 
 patient to irascibility, gay even to folly, she 
 had the spirit of her age without any of its 
 reason. Volatile, flighty, sometimes charming 
 and often insupportable, her fits of temper 
 were succeeded by the most affectionate atone- 
 ments. She united extreme sensibility with 
 the utmost extravagance of imagination. You 
 could not avoid loving, even while you scolded 
 her, yet it was difficult to live with her upon 
 terms of endearment. Poor Sophie had much 
 to suffer from the temper of her sister, who 
 was irritated against her from feelings of jeal- 
 ousy, and yet was too just not to esteem her 
 as she deserved, and consequently found in her 
 connection with her everything that could con- 
 
94 Private Memoirs 
 
 tribute to that inconstancy which she herself 
 was the first to lament. 
 
 The sobriety of premature reason character- 
 ized Sophie. She did not feel acutely, because 
 her head was cool and composed ; but she loved 
 to reason and reflect. She was sedate, without 
 being prepossessing, and accordingly lacked the 
 qualities that win the affections ; but she was 
 obliging to every one, as opportunity offered; 
 and if she did not anticipate, she at least never 
 refused compliance with the wishes of others. 
 She was fond both of working and reading. 
 Her sorrows had touched me. I was pleased 
 with the manner in which she occupied her time ; 
 I felt that I had found in her a companion, and 
 we became inseparable. I attached myself to 
 her with that unreserve which flows from an 
 impulse to love at first sight and entirely the 
 object that appears to accord with us. Work- 
 ing, reading, walking, all my occupations and 
 amusements were shared with Sophie. She 
 was devout, with as much sincerity as myself, 
 though a little less tenderness, which contrib- 
 uted to the intimacy of our union. It was, 
 so to express myself, under the wing of Provi- 
 dence and in the transports of a common zeal, 
 
of Madame Roland 95 
 
 that our friendship was cultivated : we wished 
 mutually to encourage and assist each other 
 in the path to perfection. Sophie was a tire- 
 less reasoner : she wanted to analyze, to discuss, 
 to know everything. I talked much less than 
 herself, and scarcely laid stress on anything 
 but results. She took pleasure in conversing 
 with me, for I was an adept at listening; and 
 when I differed from her in opinion, my oppo- 
 sition was so gentle, for fear of offending her, 
 that, in all the variety of our discussions, not 
 the slightest quarrel has ever taken place be- 
 tween us. Her society was extremely dear to 
 me, for I had need of intrusting to a person 
 who could understand me the sentiments I felt, 
 which seemed to be strengthened by being 
 shared in. About three years older than my- 
 self, and a little less reserved, she had a sort 
 of external advantage which I did not envy her. 
 She prattled prettily and fluently; I knew only 
 how to answer. It is true, people delighted 
 to question me, but this was not a task that 
 was easy to everybody. To my dear friend 
 alone was I truly communicative; others had 
 only, as it were, a glimpse of me, those ex- 
 cepted who were sufficiently skilful to lift up 
 
96 Private Memoirs 
 
 the veil, which, without intending to hide my- 
 self, I naturally assumed. 
 
 Henriette was sometimes, but not often, of 
 our party. She had formed a more congenial 
 connection with a Mademoiselle de Cornillon, 
 eighteen years of age, as ugly as sin, abounding 
 in wit and mahce, a proper hobgoblin to 
 frighten children, but whose tricks would have 
 been lost upon our maturer reason. 
 
 I cannot pass over in silence the tender affec- 
 tion that was shown me from my first arrival 
 by an excellent girl, whose unfaltering attach- 
 ment has afforded me consolation on more 
 occasions than one. Angdlique Boufflers, born 
 to no inheritance, had taken the veil at the age 
 of seventeen. She was still ignorant of her own 
 character. Nature had formed her of the most 
 inflammable materials ; her suppressed energies 
 exalted to the highest possible degree the sen- 
 sibility of her heart and the vivacity of her 
 mind. The want of fortune had caused her 
 to be placed among the lay sisters, with whom 
 she had nothing in common but the servility 
 of their functions. There are minds which 
 have no need of cultivation. Sainte Agathe 
 (the convent name of this nun), without the aid 
 
of Madame Roland 97 
 
 of education, was superior not only to her 
 companions, but to most of the sisters of the 
 choir. Her worth was known; and though, 
 as is usual in these societies, where the majority 
 are always ungrateful, they abused her good- 
 nature by loading her with all sorts of drudgery, 
 she enjoyed the respect which is due to merit. 
 It was her office, at the time of which I am 
 speaking, to wait upon the boarders. She had 
 no assistant in this work, and had besides 
 other cares confided to her; yet she dis- 
 charged them all with equal diligence and 
 cheerfulness. I had scareely observed her, 
 when she had already distinguished me by 
 her attentions. Her kindness was the first 
 circumstance that led me to notice her. At 
 table she studied my taste, and sought to 
 gratify it ; in my chamber, she seemed to take 
 a pleasure in making my bed, and never let 
 an opportunity escape of saying something civil 
 to me. If I met her, she embraced me with 
 tenderness. Sometimes she would lead me to 
 her cell, where she had a charming little bird, 
 tame and caressing, and which she had taught 
 to speak. She gave me even a secret key to 
 this cell, that I might have access to it in her 
 7 
 
98 Private Memoirs 
 
 absence. I read there all the books of which 
 her little library was composed : the poems of 
 Father du Cerceau, and some mystical works. 
 When her avocations prevented her from spend- 
 ing any time with me, I was sure to find in her 
 cell an affectionate little note, which I never 
 failed to answer; she treasured up these mis- 
 sives like so many jewels, and showed them to 
 me long afterwards carefully stored away in 
 her desk. Presently the attachment of Sainte 
 Agathe to the little Phlipon was the talk of the 
 convent ; but it was accepted quite as a matter 
 of course, none of my companions taking offence 
 at the favor accorded me. If any of the sisters 
 spoke to her of her evident partiality, she would 
 ask quite innocently if they would not do the 
 same were they in her place ; and when some au- 
 stere devotee of fourscore, like Sister Gertrude, 
 chided her for loving me too much, she would 
 say that she, Sister Gertrude, thought so because 
 she was herself incapable of such affection ; " and 
 yet even you," she would add, " never meet her 
 without stopping her." Mother Gertrude would 
 then turn away muttering between her teeth, yet 
 half an hour after, she never failed, if she saw 
 me, to give me a cake or some sweetmeats. 
 
of Madame Roland gg 
 
 When the young Cannets arrived, and I at- 
 tached myself to Sophie, Agathe appeared a 
 little jealous, and it was a pleasure to the nuns 
 to tease her upon the subject ; but her generous 
 affection did not diminish. She was at length 
 satisfied that my friendship should be divided, 
 and seemed to share the pleasure I felt from an 
 intimacy with a person nearer my age, whose 
 society I could enjoy every hour of the day. 
 Agathe was then four-and-twenty. Her charac- 
 ter and affection have inspired me with the sin- 
 cerest regard for her, which I have frequently 
 taken a pride in testifying. 
 
 During the last years of the existence of con- 
 vents, it was she alone whom I went to visit in 
 the convent of the Congregation. Having been 
 obliged to quit it at a time when her age and 
 infirmities rendered such an asylum necessary 
 to her, and being reduced to the scanty pension 
 assigned her, she vegetates at present at no great 
 distance from the place of our ancient abode, or 
 from the prison in which I am now confined ; 
 and in this situation, in the midst of the shame 
 of her undeserved poverty, her only subject of 
 lamentation is the captivity of her " daughter," 
 for thus has she always called me. Ye com- 
 
lOO Private Memoirs 
 
 passionate souls, who feel for my situation, 
 cease sometimes to pity me, in contemplating 
 the blessings which heaven has preserved to 
 me. In the midst of their power, my persecu- 
 tors have not the felicity of being loved by an 
 Agathe, to whom misfortune only renders the 
 objects of her attachment the more dear. 
 
 The winter had passed away. During this 
 season, I had seen my mother less frequently; 
 but my father never suffered a Sunday to pass 
 without visiting me and taking me to walk in 
 the Jardin du Roi, if the weather would at all 
 permit, where we braved the severity of the 
 cold, tripping it gayly over the snow. Delight- 
 ful walks ! the remembrance of which was re- 
 vived twenty years after upon reading these 
 lines of Thomson,^ which I never repeat with- 
 out emotion : 
 
 Pleas'd was I, in my cheerful morn of life, 
 
 When nurs'd by careless solitude 1 liv'd, 
 
 And sung of nature with unceasing joy; 
 
 Pleas'd was I, wand'ring through your rough domain, 
 
 Through the pure virgin snows, myself as pure. 
 
 1 Thomson's " Seasons " was the book slipped by Madame 
 Roland into her pocket on the night of her imprisonment. 
 This old favorite, with Plutarch, Tacitus, and Hume's 
 " History of England," formed the little library of her cell. 
 
of Madame Roland loi 
 
 It had been determined, upon my entrance 
 into the convent, that I should remain there 
 only a year. This I had desired myself, as I 
 wished to see a limit to the sacrifice I had made 
 in separating myself from my mother. The 
 nuns also, on their part, when they consented 
 to my receiving my first communion in the 
 fourth month of my residence with them, had 
 taken care to stipulate that I should not leave 
 them the sooner on that account, and that I 
 should complete the period agreed upon. 
 This period having revolved, I was now to 
 come out. My mother announced to me, that 
 my grandmother Phlipon, who was extremely 
 fond of me, had requested to have my company 
 for a while. To this she had consented, conceiv- 
 ing that it would not be displeasing to me, as 
 she would be able to see me there much more 
 frequently than at the convent. This arrange- 
 ment, besides, was perfectly suitable to circum- 
 stances. My father had been chosen to some 
 office of his parish. On this account he was 
 frequently from home, and then my mother 
 was obhged to superintend the work intrusted 
 to the young men, with which she had hitherto 
 had no concern; so that she would have less 
 
I02 Private Memoirs 
 
 leisure to bestow upon me. The arrangement 
 she proposed to me was a gentle transition from 
 the absence I had lately experienced to a com- 
 plete return to her, and I accepted it the more 
 readily as I was attached to my grandmother. 
 She was a graceful, good-humored little woman, 
 whose agreeable manners, polished language, 
 gracious smile, and coquettish glances, still 
 hinted at some pretensions to please, or at least 
 reminded us that she had been an object of ad- 
 miration. She was sixty-five or sixty-six years 
 of age, and not indifferent to dress, which she 
 took care, however, should be suitable to her 
 years ; for she prided herself above all things on 
 the study and observance of decorum. Being 
 plump, light of foot, erect, with handsome little 
 hands the fingers of which were gracefully dis- 
 played, and a tone of sentiment shaded with 
 delicate gayety, the traces of age were almost 
 imperceptible. She was a delightful companion 
 to young persons, whose society pleased her, 
 and by whom she was proud of being sought. 
 Becoming a widow immediately upon the term- 
 ination of the first year of her marriage, my 
 father, born after the death of her husband, was 
 her only child. Misfortunes in trade having 
 
of Madame Roland 103 
 
 reduced her to distress, she had recourse to 
 some rich relations, who employed her in the 
 education of their children. Thus she had 
 the care, in the house of Madame de Boismorel, 
 of the son Roberge, of whom I shall speak in 
 the sequel, as well as of her daughter, after- 
 wards Madame de Favieres. 
 
 A litde estate, which fell to her by inheri- 
 tance, having rendered her independent, she 
 retired to the island of St. Louis, where she 
 occupied a decent apartment with her sister, 
 Mademoiselle Rotisset, whom she called by the 
 name of Ang^lique. This worthy maiden, asth- 
 matic and devout, pure as an angel and simple 
 as a child, was the very humble servant of her 
 elder sister. The affairs of the little household 
 devolved entirely upon her. A charwoman 
 attending twice a day to perform the more 
 menial offices, Ang^lique was competent to the 
 rest, and attended respectfully at the toilet of 
 her sister. She naturally became my gouver- 
 nante, while Madame Phlipon was my tutor. 
 Behold me, then, in their hands, after having 
 quitted the house of the Lord, regretted, es- 
 teemed, and embraced by the whole sisterhood 
 of nuns, wept over by my Agathe and my 
 
I04 Private Memoirs 
 
 Sophie, lamenting in turn my separation from 
 them, and promising to mitigate its pains by the 
 frequency of my visits. 
 
 This engagement was too dear to my heart 
 not to be scrupulously fulfilled. My walks were 
 frequently directed towards the Congregation. 
 My aunt Angdlique, as well as my father, took 
 pleasure in accompanying me thither. The news 
 of my arrival in the parlor being spread through 
 the convent, I had presently a group of twenty 
 about me. But these visits, after all, were poor 
 substitutes for the daily and confidential inter- 
 course of friendship. They became less fre- 
 quent, and I had recourse to correspondence, 
 carried on principally with Sophie. This was 
 the origin of my taste for writing, and one of 
 the causes which have rendered, from habit, 
 the practice of it so easy to me. 
 
of Madame Roland 105 
 
 II 
 
 August 28. 
 
 I FEEL my resolution to pursue these 
 Memoirs deserting me. The miseries of 
 my country torment me ; the loss of my friends 
 unnerves me ; an involuntary gloom penetrates 
 my soul and chills my imagination. France is 
 become a vast Golgotha of carnage, an arena of 
 horrors, where her children tear and destroy each 
 other. 
 
 The enemy, favored by civil strife, advances 
 in every quarter; the cities of the North fall 
 into their power; Flanders and Alsace must 
 become their prey; the Spaniard desolates 
 Roussillon ; Savoy rejects an alliance that would 
 unite her to anarchy, and returns to her ancient 
 tyrant, whose troops invade our frontiers; the 
 rebels of la Vendue continue to lay waste a large 
 extent of territory; the Lyonnese, wantonly 
 provoked, have burst into open resistance ; 
 Marseilles flies to their succor; the disorder 
 
io6 Private Memoirs 
 
 spreads to the neighboring Departments ; and in 
 this universal agitation, and in the midst of these 
 multiplied disorders, there is nothing consistent 
 but the measures of the foreign powers, whose 
 conspiracy against freedom and mankind our 
 excesses have justified. Our government is a 
 species of monster, whose form is as odious as 
 its appetites are depraved ; it destroys whatever 
 it touches, and devours even itself. This last 
 feature is the only consolation of its numerous 
 victims. 
 
 The armies, ill conducted, and worse pro- 
 vided, alternately fly like cowards, and fight 
 with the courage of despair. The ablest com- 
 manders are accused of treason, because certain 
 Representatives, ignorant of war, blame what 
 they do not comprehend, and brand as aristo- 
 crats all who are more enlightened than them- 
 selves. A legislative body, characterized by 
 debiHty from the moment of its existence, pre- 
 sented us at first with lively debates, as long as 
 it possessed sufficient penetration to foresee the 
 national dangers, and courage to announce 
 them. The just and generous spirits, who 
 aspired to the welfare of their country and 
 dared attempt to establish it, denounced au- 
 
of Madame Roland 107 
 
 daciously under the most odious colors and in 
 forms the most contradictory, have been at last 
 sacrificed by ignorance and fear to intrigue and 
 peculation. Chased from a body of which they 
 were formed to be the soul, they left behind 
 them an inane and corrupt minority, who have 
 united the oppression of despotisrii with the 
 license of anarchy, and whose follies and crimes 
 dig their own tomb, while they are consummat- 
 ing the public ruin. The nation, cowardly and 
 uninstructed, because egotism is indolent and 
 indolence credulous and blind, has accepted a 
 constitution essentially vicious, which, even if 
 unexceptionable, it should still have rejected with 
 indignation, because nothing can be accepted 
 from villainy without degradation to the re- 
 ceiver. This deluded people boasts of security 
 and freedom, while it has seen both violated with 
 impunity in the persons of its Representatives ! ^ 
 It can only change its tyrants. Already under a 
 yoke of iron, every change seems to it an 
 alleviation; but, incapable itself of accomplish- 
 ing one, it supinely awaits it at the hands of the 
 first master ambitious of ruling it. O Brutus, 
 
 ' In the expulsion of the Girondists from the Convention, 
 June 2, 1793. 
 
io8 Private Memoirs 
 
 whose daring hand freed in vain the degenerate 
 Romans, like thee we have erred. Like thee, 
 men pure and enlightened, whose ardent souls 
 burned for liberty, and whom philosophy had 
 trained for it in the calm of study and the 
 austerity of seclusion, have flattered themselves 
 that the fall of the despot would herald the 
 reign of justice. Alas, it has been but the sig- 
 nal for the rule of the direst passions, and 
 the most execrable vices ! Thou saidst, after 
 the proscriptions of the triumvirs, that the cause 
 of the death of Cicero had filled thee with 
 more shame than his death had occasioned thee 
 grief; thou blamedst thy friends at Rome for 
 having become slaves rather by their own fault 
 than that of their tyrants, and accusedst them 
 of the dastardliness of seeing and permitting 
 things, of which the mere recital should have 
 been insupportable to them and excited their 
 horror. 
 
 Such is the indignation which I feel in my 
 dungeon. But the hour of indignation is past; 
 it is too evident that there is no good to 
 be hoped nor additional evil to be feared. 
 Never can history paint these dreadful times, or 
 the monsters that fill them with their barbari- 
 
of Madame Roland log 
 
 ties. They surpass the cruelties of Marius, the 
 atrocities of Sylla. The latter, inclosing and 
 slaughtering six thousand men who had sur- 
 rendered to him, near the senate, which he 
 exhorted to proceed in its deliberations amidst 
 the shrieks and groans of the victims, acted like 
 a tyrant that abuses the power he has usurped. 
 But to what can we compare the domination of 
 those hypocrites, who, masking their ambition 
 and avarice with the guise of justice, and con- 
 verting the laws into snares for the innocent, 
 have created a public tribunal as the engine of 
 their personal vengeance, and send to the 
 scaffold, with formalities mockingly judicial, 
 every individual whose virtues offend them, 
 whose talents excite their jealousy, or whose 
 opulence tempts their cupidity. What Rome 
 or Babylon ever equalled Paris, polluted with 
 debauchery and blood, and governed by magis- 
 trates who profess to trade in falsehood and 
 calumny, and to license assassination? What 
 people has ever depraved its nature to the point 
 of contracting a moral necessity of beholding 
 executions, and of glutting its eyes with scenes 
 of cruelty; of foaming with impatience and 
 rage when the sanguinary scenes are retarded ; 
 
no Private Memoirs 
 
 and of being ever ready to wreak its ferocity 
 on whosoever shall attempt to calm and pacify 
 its violence ? The days of September were the 
 sole work of a small number of human tigers 
 drunk with wine and blood; those of the 31st 
 of May and the 2d of June ^ marked the triumph 
 of crime by the apathy of the Parisians, and 
 their tame acquiescence in slavery. From this 
 date crime and anarchy grow apace; the fac- 
 tion, called in the Convention the Mountain 
 is but a band of robbers, aping in garb and 
 language the dregs of the populace, preaching 
 massacre, and setting the example of rapine. 
 Crowds of people surround the courts of justice, 
 and vociferate their threats against the judges, 
 who are thought too tardy in the condemnation 
 of innocence. The prisons are gorged with 
 public functionaries, with generals, and private 
 individuals of characters that graced and en- 
 nobled humanity. A zeal to accuse is received 
 as a proof of civism, and the search and deten- 
 tion of persons of merit and property sum up 
 the duties of an ignorant and unprincipled mag- 
 istracy. 
 
 ' The days of the Montagnard movement for " purging " 
 the Convention of their Girondist opponents. 
 
of Madame Roland 1 1 1 
 
 The victims of Orleans are fallen. Charlotte 
 Corday has not produced the smallest move- 
 ment in a city which did not merit that she 
 should free it from a monster. Brissot/ Gen- 
 sonn6, and a multitude of other deputies re- 
 main under the decree of accusation; the 
 deficiency of proofs but augments the animos- 
 ity against them, and the will of the people, 
 who impatiently expect their heads as a wild 
 beast awaits its prey, supplies the want of rea- 
 sons for their condemnation. Custine^ is no 
 more ; Robespierre triumphs ; Hubert points 
 
 1 Some women assembled in the church of St. Eustatius, 
 said one day, setting up a howl, that they must have the head 
 of Brissot, without permitting the judges to use in his trial 
 the same tedious process which had retarded the execution of 
 Custine. Two thousand persons surrounded the court the 
 day that judgment was pronounced on this general, trembled 
 lest he should escape their hatred, and declared aloud, that 
 if he were absolved, he must be treated like Montmorin, and 
 ■witH him all the traitors that lay in the prisons. 
 
 " His entire property was confiscated. His daughter-in- 
 law, a young and charming woman, at that time pregnant, who 
 divided her days between her father-in-law, dragged to the tri- 
 bunal, and her husband detained unjustly, was imprisoned 
 immediately after the execution of the former, and in conse- 
 quence miscarries. What does that signify to these monsters .' 
 The public accuser had received of her 200,000 livres to save 
 innocence : he returns them, and then causes her to be arrested, 
 who might denounce his infamous procedure. 
 
112 Private Memoirs 
 
 out his victims; Chabot registers them; the 
 Tribunal is assiduous in its work of death, and 
 the populace prepares to accelerate and mul- 
 tiply executions. Meanwhile, famine rears its 
 head; pernicious laws discourage industry, 
 stop circulation, and annihilate commerce; the 
 finances fall to decay; the disorganization be- 
 comes general ; and in this wreck of the pub- 
 lic wealth, men devoid of shame erect their 
 fortunes from the fragments of national pros- 
 perity, set a price on all their actions, and traf- 
 fic in the lives of their fellow-citizens. 
 
 Dillon and Castellane obtain their release, 
 the one from the prison of the Madelonettes, 
 the other from that of Sainte P^lagie, by the 
 payment of thirty thousand livres to Chabot. 
 Sillery stands cheapening his liberty, which he 
 is rich enough to purchase, and two hundred 
 bottles of his excellent champagne are the over- 
 plus of the bargain struck with the strumpets 
 of the committee.^ The wife of Roland, pointed 
 
 1 The money and wine were received, but Sillery obtained 
 only the liberty of seeing and discoursing with whom he 
 pleased. With this mitigation of his imprisonment he is 
 still confined in the Luxembourg. Three or four abandoned 
 women, belonging to the infamous wretches of the Committees 
 of Public and General Safety, form a board of trade, with which 
 every individual of any distinction must treat for his security. 
 
ch:ari:x>tte cord-a.y 
 
 FlIOH SAUDRY'S PAINTXMG, AFTER THE POKTKAIT BY HATTKR 
 
of Madame Roland 113 
 
 out hy pire Duchesne to the fury of the popu- 
 lace, awaits its last excess in the same prison 
 from which the mistress of a forger of assignats 
 departs unmolested, after having purchased the 
 safety of herself and her accomplice. Henriot, 
 having ascended to the command of the Na- 
 tional Guard, through the honorable gradation of 
 lackey, bailiff's clerk, and assassin at St. Firmin, 
 breaks seals, empties cellars, and removes fur- 
 niture with equal shamelessness and insolence. 
 Charged with the care of the deputies detained 
 in the Luxembourg, he presumes to intrude 
 into their presence purposely to insult them, 
 deprives them by force of pens, books, and 
 papers, and adds menace to his outrages. The 
 subordination of authorities is become a fiction, 
 which it is not permitted to name without in- 
 curring the accusation of incivism, and drawing 
 upon one's head the imputation of counter- 
 revolutionary principles. The fugitive depu- 
 ties,^ alas ! have they at length escaped from 
 this inhospitable land, which devours the vir- 
 tuous and the sage, and drenches itself with 
 their blood ? O my friends ! may propitious 
 fate conduct you to the United States, the only 
 
 1 The Girondists, among them Roland and Buzot. 
 8 
 
114 Private Memoirs 
 
 asylum of freedom ! My wishes would conduct 
 you thither, and I ardently hope that you are 
 now actually on your passage. But what re- 
 mains for me? I shall see you no more, and 
 while for your sakes I rejoice in your /removal, 
 I lament in it our eternal separation. And 
 thou, my revered spouse and companion, en- 
 feebled by premature old age, eluding with dif- 
 ficulty the pursuit of the assassins, shall I be 
 permitted to see thee again, and to pour conso- 
 lation into thy soul, steeped as it must be in 
 bitterness and despair? How long must I re- 
 main a witness of the desolation of my native 
 land, and the degradation of my countrymen? 
 Oppressed by these mournful reflections, I have 
 given way for a moment to my grief; a few 
 tears have escaped from my weary lids, and I 
 have laid aside the light pen which has been 
 retracing the memories of bygone, happier 
 years. 
 
 Let me once more try to recall them and 
 to follow their course. My simple story may 
 one day serve to cheer the solitary hours of 
 some captive as unhappy as myself, who may 
 forget his own sorrows in commiserating mine 
 — or perchance some poet or romancer, desir- 
 
of Madame Roland 115 
 
 ing to paint the human heart, may find in my 
 recital elements not unworthy of study. 
 
 Not many days will probably elapse before 
 the want of provisions, exasperating the popu- 
 lace, will urge them to tumults, which the agi- 
 tators will take care to foment. The tenth of 
 August was near being a commemoration of 
 the ides of September. The day before yes- 
 terday their renewal was menaced, should Cus- 
 tine be acquitted. The Cordeliers already 
 proclaim the necessity of getting rid of all sus- 
 pected persons, and punishments are decreed 
 against such as presume to disapprove of those 
 " glorious days." What is this but to prepare 
 a repetition of them? The persons sent be- 
 fore the Revolutionary Tribunal are not crimi- 
 nals referred thither to be judged, but victims 
 whom it is ordered to immolate. Those who 
 are imprisoned for anything but crime are 
 not under the safeguard of the law; on 
 the contrary, abandoned to suspicion and cal- 
 umny, they are exposed to the blind fury of 
 the populace, from which they are not a mo- 
 ment secure. Let us avert our eyes from 
 this lamentable epoch, to which the reign of 
 Tiberius alone can be compared, and let us 
 
1 1 6 Private Memoirs 
 
 return to the blissful moments of my tranquil 
 youth. 
 
 I had completed my twelfth year, and the 
 thirteenth was passed under the care of my 
 grandmother. The quiet of her house, and 
 the piety of my aunt Ang^lique, admirably 
 accorded with the tender and contemplative 
 disposition I had indulged in the convent. 
 Every morning Ang^lique accompanied me to 
 church to hear mass, where I soon attracted 
 the attention of those apostles of abnegation 
 who court the favor of God by peopling 
 the cloisters. The Abb^ G6ry, with his wry 
 neck and downcast eye, accosts the person 
 whom he supposes to be my gouvernante, to 
 congratulate her on the edification produced 
 by the example of her pupil, and to express 
 the joy he should feel in being chosen her con- 
 ductor in the ways of the Lord. He learned 
 with regret that the grand ceremonies had 
 been already performed, and that I had chosen 
 my confessor. He then begged me to tell 
 him if I had no project respecting my future 
 destination, no plan of withdrawing myself 
 from the pomps and vanities of the world; 
 and received for answer that I was yet too 
 
of Madame Roland 117 
 
 young to determine my vocation. Giry sighed, 
 addressed a number of fine things to me, and 
 did not fail to meet us on our return and to 
 repeat his compliments. The piety of my 
 young heart was not of a nature to be gratified 
 with Jesuitical affectations ; it was too sincere to 
 unite with the absurdities of fanaticism, and 
 the wry neck of Monsieur Gery was as little to 
 my taste. I had nevertheless a secret design 
 of consecrating myself to the religious life. 
 St. Fran9ois de Sales, one of the most amiable 
 saints in Paradise, had made a conquest of my 
 heart, and the ladies of the Visitation, of which 
 he was the founder, were already my sisters 
 by adoption. But I judged that, being an 
 only child, I should not gain the consent of 
 my parents during my minority, and I was not 
 willing to occasion them unnecessary pain by 
 any premature disclosure of my sentiments. 
 Besides, should it happen that when put to the 
 proof my resolution should be shaken, it would 
 be furnishing arms to the ungodly against the 
 holy vocation. I resolved, therefore, to con- 
 ceal my intention, and to proceed in silence to 
 my object. I put to contribution the little 
 library of my grandmother; and the Philot^e 
 
ii8 Private Memoirs 
 
 of St. Frangois de Sales and the Manual of St. 
 Augustine became my favorite studies. What 
 doctrines of love, what delicious aliment for 
 the innocence of a fervent soul abandoned to 
 celestial illusions ! The controversial writings 
 of Bossuet were a new food to my mind : favor- 
 able as they were to the cause which they 
 defended, they sometimes contained objections 
 to it, and thus set me on weighing my belief. 
 This was my first step in the path of doubt; 
 but it was infinitely remote from the scepticism 
 at which in a course of years I was destined 
 to arrive, after having been successively Jan- 
 senist, Cartesian, Stoic, and Deist. What a 
 route, to terminate at last in patriotism, which 
 has conducted me to a dungeon ! In the midst 
 of all this devotion, some old books of travels 
 and a store of mythology served to amuse my 
 imagination; while the letters of Madame de 
 S6vign6 established my taste.^ Her charming 
 facility, her elegance, her vivacity, her tender- 
 
 ' They also were the models upon which Madame Roland 
 formed her later and less sententious epistolary style, as her 
 charming and vivacious letters to Bosc, given in his edition 
 of her works, attest. The partial Bosc says in his Preface : 
 •' As a letter-writer she was superior in my opinion to a 
 Sevigne or a Maintenon. . . ." 
 
of Madame Roland 119 
 
 ness made me enter into her intimacy. I 
 became acquainted with her society; I was as 
 familiarized with her manners and surroundings 
 as if I had lived with- her. 
 
 My grandmother saw little company, and sel- 
 dom went out; but her agreeable pleasantry- 
 animated the conversation when I occupied my- 
 self at her side in the little tasks which she took 
 pleasure in teaching me. Madame Besnard, my 
 great-aunt, who had taken care of me while an 
 infant at nurse, came every afternoon to pass an 
 hour or two with her sister. Her austere char- 
 acter gave her a solemnity of manners and an 
 air of ceremony which Madame Phlipon would 
 occasionally rally, but so tenderly as not to 
 give offence, and was generally repaid by her 
 sister in some plain but sound truth, a little 
 abruptly expressed, of the bluntness of which 
 her excellent heart pleaded the apology. My 
 grandmother, who attached the highest value 
 to the graces and to all that embellishes social 
 life, was extremely sensible of the complaisance 
 which my gentle temper and desire of pleas- 
 ing all about me, and her own amiable man- 
 ners in particular, inspired me with towards 
 her. She would sometimes pay me a com- 
 
120 Private Memoirs 
 
 pliment; and when, which was generally the 
 case, I replied with readiness and propriety, 
 she was overcome with satisfaction, and would 
 cast a triumphant look at Madame Besnard, 
 who, shrugging her shoulders, would seize the 
 first moment of my removal to another part of 
 the room, to say in a low voice, but which I 
 heard very distinctly, " You are really insup- 
 portable ; she will be spoiled ; what a pity ! " 
 My grandmother took no other notice of this 
 than to assume a posture more upright than 
 before, assuring her sister, with an air of su- 
 periority, that she knew very well what she- 
 was about ; and the worthy Ang^lique, with her 
 pale visage and prominent chin, her spectacles 
 on her nose, and her knitting in her hands, 
 would tell them both that there was no danger 
 to be apprehended, that it was impossible for 
 anything to spoil me, and that my prudence 
 was so exemplary that I might almost be left 
 to my own guidance. This Aunt Besnard, how- 
 ever, so precise in her manners and so appre- 
 hensive of the effects of flattery, gave herself 
 the utmost concern at my lying on a hard bed, 
 and if I felt the slightest indisposition would 
 never fail to call twice a day to inform herself 
 
of Madame Roland 121 
 
 of its progress. What undisguised inquietude, 
 what anxious cares did she not display on these 
 occasions ? And how delightful was their con- 
 trast with her ordinary reserve and severity ! In 
 truth, it seemed as if heaven had surrounded 
 me with such affectionate friends, purposely to 
 render my heart of all others the most tender 
 and susceptible. 
 
 My grandmother one day took it into her 
 head to pay a visit to Madame de Boismorel, 
 either for the pleasure of seeing her, or of display- 
 ing her little daughter. Great preparations in 
 consequence; long toilet in the morning: at 
 length behold us setting off with Aunt Ang^lique 
 for the rue Saint-Louis, au Marais, where we 
 arrived about noon. On entering the house 
 every one, beginning with the portier, salutes 
 Madame Phlipon with an air of respect and 
 affection, emulous who shall treat her with the 
 greatest civility. She repays their attention 
 with courtesy, tinged at the same time with 
 dignity. So far very well; but her grand- 
 daughter is perceived; and, not satisfied with 
 pointing her out to one another, they proceed 
 to pay her a number of compliments. I began 
 to feel embarrassed, from a sentiment I could 
 
12 2 Private Memoirs 
 
 not well explain, that, while servants might look 
 at and admire me, it was not their business to 
 compliment me. We go on; a tall lackey 
 announces us, and we enter the salon, and find 
 the lady seated, with her lap-dog beside her, 
 upon what we called then, not an ottomane, 
 but a canape, gravely embroidering tapestry. 
 Madame de Boismorel was about the age, the 
 height, and the figure of my grandmother; but 
 her dress betokened the pride of wealth, rather 
 than taste ; and her countenance, far from ex- 
 pressing any plebeian desire to please, plainly 
 demanded that all attention should be bestowed 
 upon herself, and manifested her consciousness 
 of deserving it. A rich lace, puckered into the 
 form of a small bonnet, with broad wings pointed 
 at the extremity like the ears of a hare, was 
 perched upon the top of her head, that it might 
 not conceal her perhaps borrowed hair, which 
 was itself dressed with that affected discretion 
 one must assume at sixty years of age. The 
 rouge, spread one layer over another, lent to eyes 
 naturally dull a much greater air of fierceness 
 than was sufficient to make me fix mine upon 
 the ground. 
 
 " Ah, Mademoiselle Rotisset, good morning 
 
of Madame Roland 123 
 
 to you," cried, in a loud and cold tone, Madame 
 de Boismorel, as she rose to meet us. (" Made- 
 moiselle ! " So my grandmother is mademoi- 
 selle in this house.) "Upon my honor I am 
 very glad to see you. And this pretty child 
 is your granddaughter? She will make a fine 
 woman. Come here, my dear, sit down by my 
 side. She is a Uttle bashful. What age is your 
 daughter, Mademoiselle Rotisset ? She is a little 
 brown to be sure, but she has a very good skin ; 
 she will grow fairer ; and then what a shape ! I 
 will lay my life that hand must be a lucky one. 
 Did you never venture in the lottery? " 
 
 " Never, madame ; I am not fond of gaming." 
 
 " So, so ! very likely indeed ! At your age 
 children are apt to think their game is sure. 
 What an admirable voice she has, so soft, and 
 yet rich ! She is so grave too : I suppose you 
 have a devotional turn ?" 
 
 " I know my duty to God, and I endeavor to 
 fulfil it." 
 
 " That is a good girl ! You wish to take the 
 veil : is it not so ? " 
 
 " I do not know my future destination, and I 
 do not seek to pry into it." 
 
 " Upon my word, very pretty, and very sen- 
 
124 Private Memoirs 
 
 tentious ! Your granddaughter is a great stu- 
 dent, I dare say, Mademoiselle Rotisset?" 
 
 " She likes nothing so well as reading; she 
 employs a part of every day in it." 
 
 " Oh ! I was sure of that. But have a care she 
 does not become a blue-stocking ; that would be 
 a thousand pities." 
 
 The conversation next turned upon the family 
 and friends of the mistress of the house. My 
 grandmother asked very respectfully for the 
 uncle, and the cousin, and the daughter-in-law, 
 and the son-in-law, the Ahh6 Langlois, Coun- 
 cillor Brion, M. Parent, the rector. They talked 
 of the health of all these people, their pedi- 
 grees, and their eccentricities — for example of 
 Madame Roudd, who, notwithstanding her great 
 age, was still absurd enough to pretend to a fine 
 bosom, and accordingly greatly exposed this 
 part of her person, except when she got in and 
 out of her carriage, for which occasion she had 
 always an immense handkerchief ready in her 
 pocket, because, as she observed, it is not de- 
 cent to make such an exhibition to the footmen. 
 During this dialogue, Madame de Boismorel 
 sometimes took some stitches in her work, 
 sometimes patted her little dog, but most fre- 
 
of Madame Roland 125 
 
 quently looked hard at me. I took care not to 
 meet her eyes, because it was unpleasant to me ; 
 but I looked round upon the furniture and deco- 
 rations of the apartment, which were to me a 
 more pleasing spectacle than the lady: and as 
 I looked, my blood coursed more rapidly, I felt 
 my color rise, my heart beat, and my breath 
 come short. 
 
 I did not at this age ask myself, why my 
 grandmother did not sit upon the canape, or for 
 what reason in particular Madame de Boismorel 
 always called her " Mademoiselle " Rotisset ; but 
 I had the feeling that led to this reflection, and 
 I saw the end of the visit with joy, as if I were 
 just liberated from some hard confinement) 
 
 " Good-by ! Do not forget to buy me a 
 ticket in the lottery, and let your granddaughter 
 choose the number, do you hear. Mademoiselle 
 Rotisset? I am sure it will be a lucky one. One 
 embrace : and you my little heart ; do not look so 
 much on the ground. Your eyes are meant to 
 see with ; and even one's confessor does not for- 
 bid us to open them. Ah ! Mademoiselle Rotis- 
 set, you will have many a fine bow made you, 
 take my word for that. Good morning, ladies." 
 
 Saying this, Madame de Boismorel rings her 
 
126 Private Memoirs 
 
 bell, orders Lafleur to call in two days at Made- 
 moiselle Rotisset's for a lottery ticket she is to 
 send her, chides her dog for barking, and seats 
 herself quietly upon her canape before we are 
 out of the room. 
 
 From Madame de Boismorel's we walked 
 home in silence, and I hastened to my books, 
 eager to forget what was past, and no better 
 pleased with the compliments of the lady than 
 of her servants. My grandmother, neither 
 vexed nor pleased, talked sometimes of her and 
 her singularities; of the rooted selfishness 
 which had made her reply that " children were 
 but secondary considerations," when my grand- 
 mother once took the hberty to remind her of 
 the interest of hers, for the purpose of checking 
 her prodigal expense ; and of that familiarity in 
 her manners, common enough with ladies of the 
 great world, that made her receive her confessor 
 and others at her toilet, and change her chemise 
 and do other little offices in their presence. 
 This style of behavior struck me as strange ; I 
 was glad to make my grandmother talk about 
 it, but I kept to myself my own thoughts on the 
 matter, thinking it would not perhaps be be- 
 coming in me to divulge them. 
 
of Madame Roland 127 
 
 A fortnight later Madame de Boismorel's 
 son, whom we had not seen at her house, called 
 upon us. He was a man of about thirty-seven, 
 of a pleasing countenance and polished address. 
 His glance was swift and penetrating, his eye 
 very open and somewhat too large, and his deep 
 and manly, yet well modulated voice, betok- 
 ened sincerity of soul and a politeness that was 
 not merely external. He addressed my grand- 
 mother with deference, and me with that air of 
 marked courtesy which sensible men preserve 
 toward young people of my sex. The conver- 
 sation was easy, yet sufficiently circumspect. 
 M. de Boismorel did not neglect to allude grace- 
 fully to his obligations to my grandmother's 
 care and kindness, while delicately hinting at 
 the same time that Providence had rewarded 
 her for the pains she had bestowed upon the 
 children of others by the satisfaction she might 
 expect to enjoy in so promising a child of her 
 own family. 
 
 I found M. de Boismorel infinitely more ami- 
 able than his mother, and I was delighted when- 
 ever he called upon us, which was generally 
 every two or three months. He had married at 
 an early age a charming woman, by whom he 
 
128 Private Memoirs 
 
 had an only son, whose education occupied a 
 considerable portion of his thoughts. He had 
 undertaken it himself, and was desirous of direct- 
 ing it on philosophical lines, in which he was 
 not a little thwarted by the prejudices of his 
 mother, and the enthusiastic devotion of his 
 wife. He was accused of singularity; and as 
 his nerves had been affected in consequence 
 of some inflammatory disorder, the old count- 
 esses, the learned judges, and the sagacious 
 abb6s of his family, or of his mother's acquaint- 
 ance, ascribed to a derangement of the brain 
 the conduct he pursued in the education of his 
 son. These circumstances being made known 
 to me interested me in his character. I found 
 that this man argued with extreme pertinency, 
 and I began to suspect that there were two 
 sorts of reason, so to express myself, one for the 
 closet, and another for the world, — a morality 
 of principle and a morality of practice, from 
 the contradiction of which resulted so many 
 absurdities, of which some were too glaring 
 to escape my attention; in short, that persons 
 of the gay world called everybody insane who 
 was not affected like themselves with the com- 
 mon insanity: and thus did materials for 
 
of Madame Roland 129 
 
 reflection insensibly accumulate in my active 
 brain. 
 
 My grandmother sometimes contrasted the 
 sentiments and behavior of M. de Boismorel 
 with those of his sister, Madame de Favieres, 
 with whom she was little pleased, and whom 
 her brother had found it necessary to remind 
 that Mademoiselle de Rotisset was their own 
 relation — a circumstance, said I to myself, that 
 the mother did not seem less willing to overlook 
 or forget. To my great satisfaction, my grand- 
 mother never expressed a wish to present me to 
 Madame de Favieres ; indeed she was so well 
 aware of my thoughts upon the subject that we 
 did not even pay a second visit to Madame de 
 Boismorel. 
 
 My father had vacated his office ; the year to 
 be spent with my grandmother had elapsed; 
 I returned to the arms of my mother. But it 
 was not without regret that I left this pleasant 
 retreat in the Isle of Saint Louis, those agree- 
 able quays where I was accustomed to take the 
 air with my Aunt Angdlique in the serene sum- 
 mer evenings, contemplating the windings of 
 the stream and the distant landscape. I was 
 especially fond of the quays which, in my zeal 
 9 
 
130 Private Memoirs 
 
 to seek the temple and pour out my soul at the 
 foot of the altar, I have traversed without meet- 
 ing in the solitary path a single object to dis- 
 tract my meditations. The gayety of my' 
 grandmother brightened the home in which I 
 had spent so many cheerful and peaceful 
 days. I quitted her with a flood of tears ; nor 
 was my attachment to my mother, whose merit 
 was of a higher description, but whose manners 
 inspired greater awe, able to divert my regret. 
 Till that moment I had never ventured upon 
 any comparison with respect to my mother that 
 tended in any way to lessen her; but I now 
 felt a confused sense of that tendency. Child 
 of the Seine, I had from my infancy resided on 
 its banks ; but the situation had not the solitary 
 calm of my grandmother's. The moving pic- 
 tures of the Pont-Neuf varied the scene every 
 moment, and I entered literally as well as figura- 
 tively into the world, when I returned to my 
 paternal roof. A free air, however, and an 
 unconfined space, offered an ample source of 
 amusement to my romantic and vagrant imagi- 
 nation. How many times from my window, 
 which fronted the north, have I contemplated 
 with ravishing emotion the vast expanse of 
 
of Madame Roland 131 
 
 heaven, its proud azure dome, stretching its can- 
 opy from the cool blue east far behind the Pont- 
 au-Change to the west, still warm with the 
 glow of the setting sun, and tingeing the trees 
 and roofs of CHaillot! Never did I fail to 
 bestow a few moments on this ravishing spec- 
 tacle at the close of every fine day, and often 
 have tears of joy silently flowed down my 
 cheeks, while my heart, swelling with an inex- 
 pressible sentiment, happy in the idea and the 
 sense of existence, offered to the Supreme Being 
 a tribute of gratitude, pure and worthy of His 
 acceptance. I know not if sensibility of heart 
 sheds a more vivid hue on every object it 
 beholds, or if certain sensations, that yet ap- 
 pear to contain nothing remarkable, contribute 
 powerfully to develop it, or if both be' not 
 reciprocally cause and effect; but when I 
 retrace the events of my life, I am doubtful 
 whether to assign to circumstances or to my 
 character that variety and plenitude of affec- 
 tions which have marked it so strongly, and 
 left me so clear a remembrance of all the situa- 
 tions in which I have been placed. 
 
 Cajon had continued to instruct me in music. 
 He was fond of reasoning with me on the 
 
132 Private Memoirs 
 
 theory, or rather the technique of his art, for, 
 though he pretended to be a composer, he 
 understood little of mathematics and less of 
 metaphysics ; but he was ambitious of teaching 
 me all he knew. My coldness in singing was a 
 source of almost as much regret, as my facility 
 in pursuing a train of argument was of astonish- 
 ment to him. " Put soul into it ! " he would 
 continually exclaim: "you sing an air as nuns 
 chant an anthem." The poor man did not per- 
 ceive that I had too much soul to express it in 
 a song: to give full expression to a tender 
 passage of music would have embarrassed me 
 as much as to have done dramatic justice to 
 the sentiments of Eucharis and Erminia, while 
 reading aloud to my mother of the loves and 
 sorrows of those heroines. I became trans- 
 formed, it is true in a way, into the heroine 
 herself; but I could not mimic her; I entered 
 into her feelings, my respiration was quickened, 
 my voice grew tremulous, but this was all. It 
 was impossible for me to express the sentiment 
 with scientific tune, and a sostenuto voice : I had 
 no idea like that of resolving to be impassioned. 
 Mignard, whose Spanish politeness gained him 
 the esteem of my grandmother, had begun 
 
of Madame Roland 133 
 
 at her house his lessons on the guitar, which 
 he continued when I returned to my father's. 
 The simple accompaniments did not cost me 
 much effort. Mignard took delight in making 
 me excel on the instrument, and in the end 
 I surpassed my master. This poor man quite 
 lost his head, as will appear later on. Mozon 
 was recalled to perfect my dancing, as was 
 " M. Doucet" to improve me in arithmetic, 
 geography, writing, and history. My father 
 made me resume the graver, confining me to a 
 small branch of the art, to which he thought 
 to attach me by the tie of interest; for having 
 enabled me to be useful to him, he employed 
 me upon some trifling works of which I was to 
 share with him the profit at the end of the week, 
 according to an account of them which he en- 
 gaged me to keep. But I was soon weary of 
 this; nothing was so insipid to me, as to en- 
 grave the edge of a watch-case, or to ornament 
 an etui, and I was better pleased to read an 
 agreeable author than to buy myself a riband. 
 I did not conceal my disgust, and as no con- 
 straint was laid upon me, I locked up the imple- 
 ments, and have never touched them since. I 
 went out every morning with my mother to 
 
134 Private Memoirs 
 
 attend mass, after which we sometimes made 
 our purchases; then succeeded the lessons of 
 my several masters, and these being finished, 
 after an interval of recreation I retired to my 
 closet to read, to write, and to meditate. The 
 long evenings made me return to my needle- 
 work, during which my mother had the com- 
 plaisance to read to me for hours together. 
 These readings gave me great pleasure ; but as 
 they did not permit me to digest what was read 
 so perfectly as I wished, the idea suggested itself 
 to me of making extracts. Accordingly my first 
 employment in the morning was to consign to 
 paper what had struck me most forcibly the 
 preceding evening; and this done, I resumed 
 the book to recover the connection, or to copy 
 a passage that I was desirous of having entire. 
 This grew into a habit, a necessity, a passion. 
 My father's small library having long since been 
 exhausted, I borrowed and hired books, and I 
 could not bear the idea of returning them till I 
 had digested what I had conceived to be the 
 best of their contents. In this manner I studied 
 Pluche, Rollin, Crevier, Pere d'0rl6ans, St. Rdal, 
 Abb6 de Vertot, and M^zeray, who so little re- 
 sembles him, and whom I conceived to be the 
 
of Madame Roland 135 
 
 drycst author I had ever read ; but his subject 
 was the history of my country, and with this 
 I was anxious to be acquainted. 
 
 My grandmother Bimont was dead. My 
 Httle uncle, of St. Bartholomew, advanced to a 
 higher office than that of master of the choir, 
 boarded with the first vicar, the Abbe le Jay, 
 who Hved very well, and we were accustomed 
 to call upon him on Sundays and other festivals 
 after service. 
 
 The Abbe le Jay was what is called a good- 
 natured old man, as thick in his person as in 
 his wit, a poor preacher, a worse confessor, a 
 casuist, and I know not what beside. But he 
 knew how to manage affairs of interest, and 
 had succeeded so well as to establish his two 
 brothers as notaries at Paris, where they made 
 a figure in their profession, which was at that 
 time a reputable and lucrative one. To man- 
 age his house he had one of his relations, a 
 Mademoiselle d'Hannache, a tall, skeleton fig- 
 ure, dry and sallow, shrill of voice, proud of 
 her descent, and boring everybody with her 
 talent for economy and her genealogical parch- 
 ments. She was a woman, however, and that 
 is always sufficient to enliven the house of a 
 
136 Private Memoirs 
 
 priest; and she had the art of furnishing the 
 table of her cousin with elegance and profusion, 
 matters in which he was a great connoisseur. 
 The Abb6 found if extreniaely agreeable to have 
 a boarder in his house of the amiable disposi- 
 tion of my uncle Bimont: his table was more 
 gay, Mademoiselle d'Hannache better tempered, 
 and his backgammon assured. In our visits 
 my mother and this cousin were partners against 
 the Abbd and my uncle. I appeared to be de- 
 serted.; but I accommodated myself admirably 
 to this arrangement ; for the Ahh6 received his 
 company in a large library, which I put under 
 contribution according to my fancy and taste. 
 This was a fund upon which I drew till the 
 pei-iod of his death, which was about three 
 years after. One of his brothers having gotten 
 into trouble of some kind, the Ahh6 lost his 
 senses, languished for about six weeks, threw 
 himself out of a window, and was killed by the 
 fall. ^Mademoiselle d'Hannache, at that time 
 at law for the inheritance of her uncle, "the 
 captain," was accommodated in the house of my 
 mother, and resided with us nearly a year and 
 a half. During this interval I was her secre- 
 tary; I wrote her letters, copied her precious 
 
of Madame Roland 137 
 
 genealogy, drew up the petitions she presented 
 to the president and the attorney-general of the 
 ParUament of Paris, the administrators of some 
 annuities bequeathed by a M. de Saint- Vallier 
 to females of rank in reduced circumstances, 
 and accompanied her sometimes in her solici- 
 tations to various persons, which her affairs 
 made necessary. I observed upon these occa- 
 sions that, notwithstanding her ignorance, her 
 illiterate language, her starched manners, her 
 old-fashioned dress, and her other absurdities, 
 she was treated with respect on account of her 
 pedigree. They listened with attention to the 
 names of her ancestors, which she never failed 
 to enumerate, and were ready to side with her 
 in her claims to the disputed inheritance. I 
 could not but contrast this honorable treatment 
 with the reception I had met with at Madame de 
 Boismorel's, which had left a deep impression on 
 my mind. It was impossible to conceal from my- 
 self my superiority to Mademoiselle d'Hannache, 
 who, with all her genealogy and her forty years 
 to boot, could not write a letter that was either 
 legible, or dignified with a word of common sense ; 
 and I thought mankind extremely unjust, and 
 the institutions of society extravagantly absurdA 
 
138 Private Memoirs 
 
 But let us see for a moment what became of 
 my friends of the convent. From Agathe I 
 received, now and then, a letter of that tender 
 description that particularly characterizes those 
 plaintive doves whose affections are not to ex- 
 tend beyond the Hmits of friendship. With 
 these missives she used to send little gifts, 
 bon-bons, pincushions, pretty boxes, etc., when- 
 ever she had an opportunity to do so. I went 
 sometimes to see her. Once I was even ad- 
 mitted to the convent to witness a little fete 
 in honor of the Mother Superior, a privilege 
 begged as a great favor from the Archbishop, and 
 of the honor of which I was of course duly 
 conscious. When I arrived, all was astir; the 
 young ladies were- in their best, the hall was 
 adorned with flowers, the refectory was loaded 
 with dainties. It must be owned that, while 
 there was a touch of childishness in the sports 
 of these poor nuns, this was nevertheless atoned 
 for by a certain ingenuous grace and lovable- 
 ness native to the temperament of women, to 
 the sprightliness of their fancy, the artlessness 
 of their bearing — so long, indeed, as they are 
 not under the eye of a sex whose presence 
 makes them reserved, when it does not quite 
 
of Madame Roland 139 
 
 turn their heads. A short drama, trifling 
 enough as a composition, it is true, but ani- 
 mated by the gayety and the sweet voices of 
 the players, came first upon the programme ; 
 sportive dances followed ; an arch laugh, a 
 pleasantry, its eff"ect heightened by the habitual 
 gravity of the jester, lent an almost saturnalian 
 character to the merriment of these simple 
 sisters and their flock. The convent physician 
 arrives to visit some patients. Of course he 
 must see these wonders; he is escorted under 
 a cloister trimmed with green wreaths, where a 
 sort of fair is in progress, the young novices 
 selling ballads, others distributing sweetmeats, 
 this one drawing a lottery, that telling fortunes, 
 on the one side the smaller pupils with baskets 
 of fruit, on the other a concert. At sight of his 
 doctoral wig the scene changes suddenly: the 
 novices lower their veils; the older girls look 
 hastily to the arrangement of their dress; the 
 younger grow demure ; I myself hold my guitar 
 with a less negligent air. It was suspended by 
 a ribbon passed over the shoulder. They had 
 wished me to play, and the scenes around me 
 had inspired a couplet or two, indifferent in 
 themselves, but productive, from their appropri- 
 
140 Private Memoirs 
 
 ateness, of the most happy effect. Cajon him- 
 self would have been satisfied with the manner 
 in which I sang them : I had no sentiments to 
 express but those to which I could abandon 
 myself, and my accents were unrestrained. I 
 was desired to repeat them before the physi- 
 cian : this was a very different affair ; the voice 
 was less sure, and the expression, as it were, 
 veiled. Some mischievous sister remarked the 
 alteration, adding at the same time that my 
 manner was so much the more interesting. The 
 doctor withdrew : the joy became general at his 
 departure, though there was no one there but 
 would have wished him to be admitted. 
 
 Sophie had returned to her family at Amiens. 
 Previously to her departure an interview had 
 taken place between our mothers. They had 
 consecrated, if I may so speak, our connection, 
 had mutually applauded our choice, and smiled 
 at the promises never to forget each other, of 
 which we had made them the witnesses. These 
 promises, however, in spite of circumstances, 
 have proved, as will be seen hereafter, less 
 fleeting than was imagined. My correspon- 
 dence with this friend of my affections became 
 extremely regular. I wrote to her always once 
 
of Madame Roland 141 
 
 a week, and generally twice. "And what," 
 methinks I hear it asked, " CQuld you have 
 to relate ? " Everything I saw, everything I 
 thought, everything I felt; and surely I had 
 subjects enough ! These communications grew 
 daily more fluent, more entertaining. By com- 
 municating my reflections I learned the better 
 to reflect; deriving a pleasure from sharing 
 what I acquired, I studied with the more 
 ardor; finding it amusing to describe, I ob- 
 served what was passing with the greater 
 attention. The letters of Sophie were less 
 frequent ; a numerous family, a crowded house, 
 the demands of society, and the very nature of 
 a provincial life, occupied by trifles, by unmean- 
 ing visits, and of which a great part is neces- 
 sarily devoted to cards, gave her neither the 
 leisure to write, nor the opportunity to collect 
 materials. For this reason probably she affixed 
 the greater value to my letters and thereby in- 
 duced me to continue them. 
 
 The death of the Abbe le Jay having de- 
 prived me of the use of his library, in which I 
 had found historians, mythologists, fathers of the 
 church, and literati — for instance, Catrou and 
 Rouilld, who call Horatius Codes a " g^nireux 
 
142 Private Memoirs 
 
 borgne; " Maimbourg, of a taste equally elevated; 
 Berruyer, who. has written the history of the 
 people of God in the same style in which 
 Bitaub6 has composed the poem of Joseph ; the 
 chevalier de Folard, of a character totally 
 different, and whose military details appeared 
 to me much more rational than the reflections 
 of the Jesuits ; the Abb6 Bannier, who amused 
 me much more than the Ahh6 Fleury; Condil- 
 lac and Pere Andr6, whose metaphysics, applied 
 to eloquence, and to the beautiful of every 
 species, gave me singular delight; some poems 
 of Voltaire, and the moral essays of Nicole; 
 the Lives of the Fathers in the Wilderness, and 
 that of Descartes by Andr^ Baillet; Bossuet's 
 Discourse on Universal History; the letters of 
 St. J^rdme, the romance of Don Quixote, with a 
 thousand others equally congruous — this re- 
 source, I say, failing me, I was fain to have re- 
 course to the circulating libraries. My father, 
 being ill qualified to select, asked for whatever 
 I indicated to him. My choice was chiefly di- 
 rected to those works of which I had gained 
 some knowledge, either by means of criticisms 
 or extracts in the books I had already read. In 
 this way I was led to translations of the ancient 
 
of Madame Roland 143 
 
 historians, Diodorus Siculus, for instance, and 
 others. I was desirous of reviewing the history 
 of my country in some other writer than Mdze- 
 ray; I accordingly chose the Abbe Velly and 
 his continuators, the latter less interesting than 
 himsfflf, in periods, too, where, with his talents, 
 they might have been more so. From the same 
 source I read Pascal, Montesquieu, Locke, Burla- 
 maqui, and the principal French dramatists. I 
 had no plan, no system, in these readings ; my 
 sole view was instruction and knowledge. I felt 
 a sort of necessity of exercising my mind, of 
 gratifying my serious tastes. I panted for hap- 
 piness, and I could find it only in the develop- 
 ment of my faculties. I know not what I might 
 have been, if placed in the hands of a skilful 
 preceptor; but it is not improbable that, fixing 
 my attention upon a single subject, I might 
 have extended some branch of science, or 
 acquired superior talents. But should I have 
 been better or more useful ? That is a question 
 which I leave to be resolved ; it is certain I could 
 not have been happier. I know of nothing that 
 can at all be compared to that plenitude of life, 
 of peace, of satisfaction, to those days of inno- 
 cence and study. They were not, however, 
 
144 Private Memoirs 
 
 unmixed with trouble. Is the life of man upon 
 earth ever exempt from it? 
 
 I had commonly upon my hands many books 
 at once, some serving for studies, others for 
 recreation. Extended historical compositions, 
 as I have already observed, were read aloud fti the 
 evenings, which were now almost the only times 
 when I sat with my mother. The day was spent 
 in the solitude of the closet, where I devoted, my- 
 self to my extracts, to reflection, or other less 
 serious occupations. In the holidays of spring 
 we went to the public walks, or my father ac- 
 companied me to those exhibitions of pictures 
 and other productions of art which, in those times 
 of luxury and of the species of prosperity that 
 belongs to it, were so numerous at Paris. Such 
 visits were a source of gratification to him, since 
 they afforded him an opportunity of displaying 
 his superiority by pointing out to me what he 
 understood better than myself; and the taste 
 he observed in me was the more pleasing, as he 
 conceived it to be the fruit of his own instruc- 
 tions. This was our point of contact, in which 
 we were truly in unison. My father had his 
 share of vanity, and it was evident enough that 
 he was not displeased at being seen in public 
 
of Madame Roland 145 
 
 with a well-dressed young woman leaning on his 
 arm, whose blooming appearance frequently 
 caused his ears to be regaled with the whispers 
 of admiration which it elicited. If any one ac- 
 costed him, doubtful of the relation in which we 
 stood to each other, he would say, " This is my 
 daughter," with an air of modest triumph, which 
 I was not the last to perceive, and which touched 
 me without making me vain, since I ascribed it 
 entirely to parental affection. If I spoke, you 
 might see him watching, in those around, the 
 effect of my voice, or of the good sense I may 
 have uttered, and asking them by his looks if he 
 had not reason to be proud. Meanwhile, this 
 worldly life, these arts, the imagination they 
 awaken, the desire to please, so powerful in 
 females, my devotion, my studies, my reason, 
 and my faith, how are all these to be reconciled ? 
 This was precisely the origin of the trouble of 
 which I have just spoken, the progress and 
 effects of which are worthy of an exposition, 
 which however it is not a little difficult to give. 
 With the bulk of mankind, formed rather to feel 
 than to think, the passions give the first shock 
 to their creed, when that creed has been imbibed 
 from education. It is the passions that raise 
 
146 Private Memoirs 
 
 the first contradictions between the principles 
 that have been adopted, the desires that cannot 
 easily be quelled, and the institutions of a policy 
 ill calculated to reconcile them ; but in a young 
 mind given to reflection, and placed out of reach 
 of the seductions of the world, it is reason that 
 first gives the alarm, and urges us to examine, 
 before we have any interest to doubt. Mean- 
 while, though my inquietude was unalloyed with 
 selfish considerations, it was not on that account 
 independent of my sensibility : I thought from 
 the heart; and my reason, though remaining 
 impartial, was never indifferent. 
 
 The first thing that shocked me in my re- 
 ligion, which I professed with the seriousness 
 of a solid and logical mind, was the sweeping 
 damnation of all those who had not known and 
 believed in it. When, instructed by history, 
 I had well considered the extent of the earth, 
 the succession of ages, the progress of empires, 
 the virtues and errors of so many nations, I 
 found the idea weak, absurd, and impious, of 
 a Creator who should devote to eternal torment 
 those countless beings, the frail work of His 
 hands, cast on the earth in the midst of such 
 perils, and in the night of an ignorance which 
 
of Madame Roland 147 
 
 has proved the root of a thousand misfortunes. 
 " I am deceived in this article of my faith, it 
 is evident; am I not equally wrong in some 
 others? Let me examine." From the moment 
 a Catholic has arrived at this point, the Church 
 may regard him as lost. I perfectly conceive 
 why the priesthood require a blind submission, 
 and preach so ardently that religious credu- 
 lity which adopts without examination, and 
 adores without murmuring ; this is the basis of 
 their empire, which is destroyed as soon as we 
 begin to investigate. Next to the doctrine of 
 exclusive salvation, the absurd idea of infalli- 
 bility was the most indigestible, and I rejected 
 that like the other. " What then remains that 
 is true?" said I. This became the object of a 
 research continued during a number of years 
 with an activity, and sometimes an anxiety, of 
 mind, which it is difficult to describe. Critical, 
 moral, philosophical, and metaphysical writers 
 became my favorite study. I was solicitous to 
 find some one who should assist me in my 
 choice ; and their analysis and comparison occu- 
 pied almost all my attention. I had lost the 
 monk of Saint Victor, my confessor ; the good 
 M. Lallement, to whose honesty and discretion 
 
148 Private Memoirs 
 
 I rejoice now to testify, was dead. Under the 
 necessity of choosing a successor, my attention 
 was directed to the Ahh6 Morel, who belonged 
 to our parish, and whom I had seen at my 
 uncle's; he was a little man, not deficient in 
 understanding, and who professed the utmost 
 austerity of principle, which trait was the motive 
 that determined me in my choice. When my 
 faith wavered, he was sure to be the first who 
 was informed of it ; for I never could tell any- 
 thing but the truth; and he was eager to put 
 into my hands the apologists and champions of 
 Christianity. Behold me then closeted with the 
 Abbe Gauchat, the Abbe Bergier, Abbadie, 
 Holland, Clarke, and others. I studied them 
 patiently, and I sometimes made notes, which I 
 left in the book when I returned it to the Abbe 
 Morel, who asked with astonishment if it was I 
 who had written and conceived them. It is 
 pleasant to remark that in these books I became 
 acquainted with the authors they pretended to 
 refute, and learned the titles of their works so 
 as to be able to procure them ; thus furnishing 
 myself with the arms of deism from the very 
 arsenal of Christianity. In this way did the 
 treatise on " Toleration," the " Dictionnaire Phi- 
 
of Madame Roland 149 
 
 losophique," " Questions on the Encyclopedia," 
 the " Bon Sens " of the Marquis d'Argens, the 
 "Jewish Letters," the "Turkish Spy," "Les 
 Mceurs," " L'Esprit," Diderot, d'AIembert, Ray- 
 nal, and the " Systeme de la Nature," pass suc- 
 cessively through my hands. 
 
 The progress of my mind was not the only 
 one I experienced : nature had also its progress 
 of different kinds, and was working in every 
 way to my maturity. 
 
 To the newly acquired sensations of a frame 
 robust and well organized, were insensibly joined 
 all the modifications of a desire to please. I 
 loved to appear well dressed, found delight in 
 hearing it said of me, and occupied myself wil- 
 lingly in what was likely to procure me the 
 gratification. This, perhaps, is as proper a 
 place as any to introduce my portrait. At 
 fourteen years, as now, my stature was about 
 five feet, for I had completed my growth ; my 
 leg and foot were well formed ; the hips full 
 and bold; the chest large, and the bust well 
 rounded ; my shoulders of an elegant tournnre ; 
 my carriage firm and graceful, my step light 
 and quick. Such was the first coup d'osil. As 
 
150 Private Memoirs 
 
 to my face, there was nothing in it specially 
 striking of itself, save perhaps the fresh color, 
 the tenderness and expression. To go into 
 details, " Where," it may be asked, " is the 
 beauty?" Not a feature is regular, but all 
 please. The mouth is rather large — one sees 
 a thousand that are prettier ; but where is there 
 a smile more sweet and engaging? The eye is 
 scarcely large enough, and its iris is of a gray- 
 ish hue ; but, though somewhat prominently set, 
 it is frank, lively, and tender, crowned by deli- 
 cately pencilled brown eyebrows (the color of my 
 hair), and its expression varies with the chang- 
 ing emotions of the soul whose activity it re- 
 flects ; grave and haughty, at times it imposes ; 
 but it charms oftener, and is always animated. 
 The nose gave me some uneasiness ; I thought 
 it too full at the end, but, regarded with the 
 rest, and especially in profile, it did not detract 
 from the general effect of the face. The ample 
 forehead, at that age exposed and unhidden by 
 the hair, with arched eyebrows, and veins in 
 the form of the Greek 7, that dilated at the 
 slightest emotion, dignified an ensemble remote 
 enough from the insignificance of so many 
 faces. As for the chin, which was slightly 
 
of Madame Roland 151 
 
 retiring, it has the precise characteristics attri- 
 buted by physiognomists to the voluptuary. 
 Indeed, when I combine all the peculiarities of 
 my character, I doubt if ever an individual was 
 more formed for pleasure, or has tasted it so 
 little. The complexion was clear rather than 
 fair; its lively colors were frequently height- 
 ened by a sudden effervescence of the blood, 
 occasioned by nerves the most sensitive ; the 
 skin soft and smooth ; the arms finely rounded ; 
 the hand elegant without being small, because 
 the fingers, long and slender, announce dex- 
 terity and preserve grace ; tteeth white and well 
 ranged; and, lastly, the plenitude and plump- 
 ness of perfect health : such are the gifts with 
 which nature had endowed me. I have lost 
 many of them, particularly such as depend 
 upon bloom and fulness of figure; but those 
 which remain are sufficient to conceal, without 
 any assistance of art, five or six years of my 
 age, and the persons who see me must be in- 
 formed of what it is, to believe me more than 
 two or three and thirty. It is only since my 
 beauty has faded that t have known what was 
 its extent ; while in its bloom I was unconscious 
 of its worth, and perhaps this ignorance aug- 
 
152 Private Memoirs 
 
 mented its value. I do not regret its loss, be- 
 cause I have never abused it ; but if my duty 
 could accord with my taste to leave less ineffec- 
 tive what remains of it, I certainly should not 
 be mortified. My portrait has frequently been 
 drawn, painted, and engraved, but none of these 
 imitations gives an idea of my person ; ^ it is 
 difficult to seize, because I have more soul than 
 figure, more expression than features. This an 
 inferior artist cannot express; it is probable 
 even that he would not perceive it. My face 
 kindles in proportion to the interest with which 
 I am inspired, in the same manner as my mind 
 is developed in proportion to the mind with 
 which I have to act. I find myself so dull with 
 some people, that, perceiving the abundance of 
 my resources with persons of talent, I have 
 imagined, in my simplicity, that to them alone 
 I was indebted for it. I generally please, be- 
 cause I dislike to offend ; but it is not granted 
 to all to find me handsome, or to discover what 
 I am worth. I can imagine an old coxcomb, 
 enamored of himself, and vain of displaying 
 his slender stock of science, fifty years in ac- 
 quiring, who might see me for ten years to- 
 1 The cameo of Langlois is the least imperfect. 
 
of Madame Roland 153 
 
 gether without discovering that I could do more 
 than cast up a bill, or cut out a shirt. Camille 
 Desmoulins was right when he expressed his 
 amazement, that " at my age, and with so little 
 beauty," I had still what he calls adorers. I 
 have never spoken to him, but it is probable 
 that with a personage of his stamp I should be 
 cold and silent, if I were not absolutely repul- 
 sive. But he missed the truth in supposing me 
 to hold a court. I hate gallants as much as I 
 despise slaves, and I know perfectly how to 
 baffle your complimenters. I have need, above 
 all things, of esteem and benevolence; admire 
 me afterwards if you will, but I cannot live with- 
 out being respected and cherished : this seldom 
 fails from those who see me often, and who pos- 
 sess, at the same time, a sound understanding 
 and a heart. 
 
 That desire to please, which animates a 
 youthful breast and excites so delicious an 
 emotion at the flattering looks of which we per- 
 ceive ourselves thfi object, was oddly combined 
 with my timid reserve and the austerity of my 
 principles ; and, displayed in my dress, it lent 
 my person a charm that was strictly peculiar. 
 Nothing could be more decent than my dress, 
 
154 Private Memoirs 
 
 nothing more modest than my deportment. I 
 wished them to announce propriety and grace ; 
 and from the commendations that were be- 
 stowed upon me, I flattered myself that I suc- 
 ceeded. Meanwhile, that renunciation of the 
 world, that contempt of its pomps and vanities, 
 so strongly recommended by Christian morality, 
 ill accorded with the suggestions of nature. 
 Their contradictions at first tormented me, but 
 my reasonings necessarily extended to rules of 
 conduct, as to articles of faith. I applied my- 
 self with equal attention to the investigation of 
 what I was to do, and the examination of what 
 I ought to believe. The study of philosophy, con- 
 sidered as the science of manners and the basis 
 of happiness, became indeed my only study, and 
 I referred to it all my readings and observation. 
 In metaphysics and moral systems I experi- 
 enced the same feeling as in reading poems, 
 when I fancied myself transformed into the per- 
 sonage of the drama that had most analogy 
 to myself, or that I most esteemed. I accord- 
 ingly adopted the propositions the novelty or 
 brilliance of which had most impressed me, and 
 these I held until others more novel or more 
 profound superseded them. Thus, in the con- 
 
CAMTDUB DESMOTJUCNS 
 
of Madame Roland 155 
 
 troversial class, I enrolled myself with the Port- 
 Royal school ; their logic and austerity accorded 
 with my character, while I felt an instinctive 
 aversion for the sophistical and pliant doctrine 
 of the Jesuits. While I was examining the sects 
 of the ancient philosophers, I gave the palm to 
 the Stoics. I endeavored, like them, to main- 
 tain that pain was no evil. This folly, indeed, 
 could not last, but I nevertheless persisted in 
 determining not to permit myself to be con- 
 quered by suffering ; and the small experiments 
 I had occasion to make persuaded me that I 
 could endure the greatest torments without 
 uttering a cry. The night of my marriage 
 overturned the confidence I had till then pre- 
 served : it must, however, be allowed, that sur- 
 prise in certain cases is to be counted for 
 something, and that a novice in this philosophy 
 may be expected to hold himself more firm 
 against an ill that is foreseen, than against one 
 that takes him by surprise, and where the exact 
 contrary was looked for. 
 
 jDuring two months that I studied Descartes 
 and Malebranche, I had considered my kitten, 
 when she mewed, merely as a piece of mechan- 
 ism performing its movements; but in thus 
 
156 Private Memoirs 
 
 habitually separating sensation from its manifes- 
 tations, I became a mere anatomist, and found 
 no longer anything attractive or interesting in 
 the world. I thought it infinitely more delight- 
 ful to furnish everything with a soul; and 
 indeed, rather than dispense with it, I should 
 have adopted the system of Spinoza. Helvetius 
 did me considerable injury by annihilating all 
 my most ravishing illusions; everywhere he 
 posited a mean and revolting self-interest. Yet 
 what sagacity ! what luminous development ! 
 I persuaded myself that Helvetius delineated 
 mankind as they had been disfigured and de- 
 praved by an erroneous and vicious form of 
 society, and I judged it useful to be acquainted 
 with his system, as a security against the knav- 
 eries of the world; but I was upon my guard 
 against adopting his principles respecting man in 
 the abstract, and applying them to the apprecia- 
 tion of my own actions. I would not so under- 
 value and degrade myself: I felt myself capable 
 of a generosity, of which he did not admit the 
 possibility. With what delight did I oppose to 
 his system the great exploits of history, and 
 the virtues of the heroes it has celebrated ! I 
 never read the recital of a glorious deed but I 
 
of Madame Roland 157 
 
 said to myself: " It is thus I would have acted." 
 I became a passionate lover of republics, in 
 which I found the most virtues to admire and 
 the most men to esteem. I became convinced 
 that this form of government was the only one 
 capable of producing such virtues and such 
 characters. I felt myself not unequal to the 
 former; I repulsed with disdain the idea of 
 uniting myself to a man inferior to the latter ; 
 and I demanded, with a sigh, why I was not 
 born amidst these republicsTj 
 
 About this time we made an excursion to 
 Versailles, my mother, my Uncle, Mademoiselle 
 d'Hannache, and myself. This journey had no 
 other object than to show me the court and the 
 place it inhabited, and to amuse me with its 
 pageantry. We lodged in the palace. Madame 
 le Grand, nurse to the Dauphin, well known to 
 my uncle Bimont, through her son, of whom I 
 shall have occasion to speak, being absent, lent 
 us her apartments. They were in the attic story, 
 in the same corridor with those of the Arch- 
 bishop of Paris, and so close to them that it was 
 necessary for that prelate to speak in a low tone 
 of voice to avoid being overheard by us ; the 
 same precaution was requisite on our part. Two 
 
158 Private Memoirs 
 
 chambers indifferently furnished, over one of 
 which it was contrived to lodge a valet, and the 
 avenue to which was rendered insupportable by 
 its obscurity and its odors, were the habitation 
 which a duke and peer of France did not dis- 
 dain to occupy, that he might have the honor of 
 cringing every morning before their majesties ; 
 and this servile prelate, meanwhile, was no other 
 than the austere Beaumont. For one entire 
 week we were constant spectators of the life of 
 the inmates of the chateau, sometimes sep- 
 arated, and sometimes united, their masses, 
 promenades, card parties, and the whole round 
 of presentations. 
 
 Our acquaintance with Madame le Grand fa- 
 cilitated our admission; while Mademoiselle 
 d'Hannache, penetrated with confidence every- 
 where, ready to batter down with her name 
 whoever should oppose any resistance, and 
 fancying they must read in her grotesque coun- 
 tenance the ten generations of her genealogy. 
 She recollected two or three gardes du roi, 
 whose pedigrees she recounted with minuteness, 
 proving herself precisely the relation of him 
 whose name was the most ancient, and who 
 seemed to possess most consideration at court. 
 
of Madame Roland 159 
 
 The spruce figure of a little clergyman like 
 Bimont, and the imbecile hauteur of the ugly 
 d'Hannache, were not wholly out of place at 
 Versailles; but the unrouged face of my re- 
 spectable mother, and the sober decency of 
 my apparel, announced that we were bourgeois ; 
 and if my youth or my eyes drew forth a word 
 or two, they were modulated with a tone of 
 condescension that gave me no less offence 
 than the compHments of Madame de Boismorel. 
 Philosophy, imagination, sentiment, and calcu- 
 lation were all equally exercised in me upon 
 this occasion. I was not insensible to the 
 effects of sumptuousness and magnificence, 
 but I felt indignant that they should be em- 
 ployed to exalt certain individuals already too 
 powerful from circumstances and totally insig- 
 nificant in themselves. I preferred seeing the 
 statues in the gardens to the personages of 
 the court; and my mother inquiring if I was 
 pleased with my visit, " Yes," replied I, " if 
 only it be soon over; a few days longer, and 
 I shall so perfectly detest these people that 
 I shall not know what to do with my hatred." 
 
 " What harm do they do you ? " 
 
 "They give me the feeling of injustice, and 
 
i6o Private Memoirs 
 
 oblige me every moment to contemplate ab- 
 surdity.^ 
 
 I sighed at the recollection of Athens, where 
 I could equally have admired the fine arts, 
 without being annoyed with the spectacle of 
 despotism. In imagination I traversed Greece ; 
 I assisted at the Olympic Games, and I mur- 
 mured that I was born in France. Enchanted 
 with what I beheld in the golden period of 
 the republic, I passed over the disorders by 
 which it had been agitated.: I forgot the exile 
 of Aristides, the death of Socrates, the con- 
 demnation of Phocion. I dreamt not that 
 heaven had reserved me to be witness of errors 
 similar to those of which they were the victims, 
 and to participate in the glory of the same 
 persecution after having professed the same 
 principles. Heaven knows that the misfortunes 
 which affect only myself have not extorted 
 from me a sigh or even a regret; I am sensible 
 only of those which afflict my country. Upon 
 the divisions of the court and the parliament 
 in 1771,^ my character and opinions attached 
 
 1 The time of Chancellor Maupeou's famous coup d'ltat, 
 the installation of the " ParUment Maupeou." Of the whole- 
 sale suppressions in 177 1 of the parlements, De Tocqueville 
 says : " At this date the radical revolution became inevitable." 
 
of Madame Roland 16 1 
 
 me to the party of the latter; I procured all 
 their remonstrances, and was most pleased by 
 those of which the principles and style were 
 the most outspoken and daring. The sphere 
 of my ideas continually enlarged. My own 
 happiness, and the duties to the performance 
 of which it was attached, occupied my earliest 
 attention; the desire of instruction afterwards 
 made me devour history and scrutinize my own 
 surroundings ; the relation of man to the di- 
 vinity so variously represented, overcharged, 
 and disfigured, excited my notice; and finally 
 the interests of my fellow creatures and the 
 organization of society fixed and absorbed all 
 my thoughts. 
 
 In the midst of doubts, uncertainty, and in- 
 vestigation, relative to these grand objects, I 
 concluded without hesitation, that the unity of 
 the individual, if I may so express myself, the 
 most entire harmony that is to say, between his 
 opinions and actions, was necessary to his per- 
 sonal happiness. Accordingly we must examine 
 well what is right, and when we have found it, 
 practise it rigorously. There is a kind of 
 justice that man has to observe towards himself, 
 should he exist solitary on the earth : he should 
 
i62 Private Memoirs 
 
 govern all his affections and habits, that he may 
 be tyrannized and enslaved by none. A being 
 is good in itself when all its parts concur to its 
 preservation, its maintenance, or its perfection ; 
 this is not less true in the moral than in the 
 physical universe. Justness of organization, an 
 even temper, constitute health ; wholesome food 
 and moderate exercise preserve it. The pro- 
 portion of our desires and the harmony of the 
 passions form the moral constitution, of which 
 wisdom alone can secure the excellence and 
 duration. These first principles are grounded 
 in self-interest, and in this regard it may 
 justly be said that virtue is only soundness of 
 judgment applied to morals. But virtue, prop- 
 erly so called, results from the relations of a 
 being with his fellow beings; justice towards 
 ourselves is wisdom; justice towards others is 
 virtue. In society all is relative; there is no 
 happiness independent ; we are necessitated to 
 sacrifice a part of what we might enjoy, not to 
 be deprived of the whole, and to secure a por- 
 tion against all assaults. Even here the balance 
 is in favor of reason. However burdensome 
 may be the life of the honest, that of the vicious 
 must be more so. He can seldom be tranquil 
 
of Madame Roland 163 
 
 who stands in opposition to the interest of the 
 majority; it is impossible for him to conceal 
 from himself that he is surrounded by enemies, 
 or by those who are ready to become so ; and 
 this situation is always painful, however splendid 
 it appear. Let us add to these considerations 
 the sublime rectitude of instinct which corruption 
 may lead astray, but which no false philosophy 
 can ever annihilate ; which impels us to admire 
 and love wisdom and generosity of conduct as we 
 do grandeur and beauty in nature and the arts 
 — and we shall have the source of human virtue 
 independent of every religious system, of the in- 
 tricacies of metaphysics, and of the impostures 
 of priests. When I had combined and demon- 
 strated these truths, my heart expanded with 
 joy ; they offered me a port in the tempest, and 
 afforded me a station, whence I could with less 
 anxiety examine the errors of national creeds 
 and the vices of social institutions. The glorious 
 idea of a Divine Creator, whose providence 
 watches over the world; the immateriality of 
 the soul, and lastly its immortality, that consol- 
 ation of persecuted and suffering virtue — can 
 these be nothing more than amiable and splen- 
 did chimeras ? Yet what absurdities enwrap these 
 
164 Private Memoirs 
 
 difficult problems ! What accumulated objec- 
 tions involve them, if we wish to examine them 
 with a mathematical rigor ! — But no : it is 
 not allotted to man to behold these truths in the 
 full day of perfect evidence ; and what does it 
 signify to the sensible soul that he cannot de- 
 monstrate them? Is it not sufficient that he 
 feels them? 
 
 In the silence of the closet and the dryness of 
 discussion I can agree with the atheist or the 
 materialist as to the hopeless insolubility of 
 certain questions; but in the bosom of the 
 country and in the contemplation of nature 
 my soul soars to the vivifying principle that 
 animates all things, to the all-powerful mind 
 that arranges them, to the goodness that invests 
 them with such exquisite charms. Now, when 
 thick walls separate me from my loved ones, 
 when society heaps upon us evil after evil as 
 a punishment for having sought its welfare, I 
 look beyond the bounds of life for the reward 
 of our sacrifices, and the felicity of reunion. 
 
 How? In what manner? I am ignorant; I 
 only feel that it ought to be so.^ 
 
 * I write this on the 4th of September, at eleven at night, 
 the apartment next to me resounding with peals of laughter. 
 
of Madame Roland 165 
 
 The Atheist is not, in my eyes, a man of ill 
 faith: I can live with him as well, nay, better 
 than with the devotee, for he reasons more; 
 but he is deficient in a certain sense, and his 
 soul does not keep pace with mine; he is 
 unmoved at a spectacle the most ravishing, and 
 he hunts for a syllogism, where I am impressed 
 with awe and admiration. 
 
 It was not suddenly and at once that I attained 
 this secure and peaceful station, in which, en- 
 joying the truths which are demonstrated to 
 me, and resigning myself with confidence to 
 the feelings that constitute my happiness, I am 
 content to be ignorant of what cannot be 
 known, without being disturbed by the opinions 
 of others. I compress in a few words the 
 essence of many years' meditation and study, 
 in the course of which I have sometimes shared 
 the zeal of the theist, the austerity of the 
 
 The actresses of the Thi&tre Frattfais were arrested yester- 
 day, and conducted to Sainte Pelagie. To-day they were taken 
 to their own apartments to witness the ceremony of taking 
 off the seals, and are now returned to the prison, where the 
 peace-officer is supping and amusing himself with them. The 
 meal is noisy and frolicsome; I catch the sound of coarse 
 jests, while foreign wines sparkle in the goblet. The place, 
 the object, the persons, my occupation, altogether form a 
 contrast which appears to me sufficiently curious. 
 
1 66 Private Memoirs 
 
 atheist, and the indifference of the sceptic. 
 These fluctuations were always sincere, as I 
 had no inducement to change my opinions for 
 the purpose of countenancing a relaxation of 
 manners ; my system of conduct was fixed be- 
 yond the power of prejudice to shake ; I some- 
 times felt the agitation of doubt, but never the 
 torments of fear. I conformed to the estab- 
 lished worship, because my age, my sex, my 
 situation, made it my duty to do so ; but, incap- 
 able of deceit, I said to the Abb6 Morel, " I 
 come to 'confession for the edification of my 
 neighbor, and the peace of my mother ; but I 
 scarcely know of what to accuse myself; my 
 situation is so calm, my tastes are so simple, 
 that, though- 1 have no great merit to boast, I 
 have little to reproach myself with. Perhaps I 
 am too much engrossed by a wish to please, and 
 too impatient with those about me, when any- 
 thing occurs to give me vexation. I am also 
 not sufficiently indulgent in my judgments of 
 Qthers, and, without suffering it to manifest 
 itself, I too hastily conceive aversion to those 
 who appear to me stupid or dull; but in this 
 I will be careful to correct myself Lastly, in 
 the exercises of religion I give way too much 
 
of Madame Roland 167 
 
 to coldness and indifference ; for I acknowledge 
 that we ought to be attentive to whatever we 
 think it requisite to perforin, be the motive 
 what it may." The good Morel, who had 
 exhausted his library and his rhetoric to keep 
 me in the faith, had the good sense to be 
 pleased at finding me so reasonable; he ex- 
 horted me, however, to distrust the spirit of 
 pride, represented with all his force the conso- 
 lations of religion, thought proper to grant me 
 absolution, and even consented that I should 
 attend the holy table three or four times in the 
 year out of philosophical toleration, since I 
 could no longer do it from the dictates of faith. 
 When I received the sacred wafer, I recalled the 
 words of Cicero that, to complete the follies of 
 men with respect to the Deity, it only remained 
 for them to transform Him into food, and then 
 to devour him. My mother increasing daily in 
 piety, I was less able to deviate from the ordi- 
 nary practices, as there was nothing I so much 
 dreaded as to afflict her. 
 
 The Ahh6 le Grand, friend of my uncle 
 Bimont, sometimes visited us. He was a man 
 of excellent judgment, who had no badge of 
 his profession but his gown, by which too he 
 
1 68 Private Memoirs 
 
 was sufficiently embarrassed. His family had 
 made him a priest, because, of three sons, one 
 must of necessity enter the church. Appointed 
 almoner to the Prince of Lamballe, and pen- 
 sioned after the death of his patron by Penthi- 
 evre, he had settled himself in a parish merely 
 that he might have a fixed residence, and had 
 chosen it near his friend to enjoy his society. 
 Affected with great weakness of sight, he had 
 become blind when very young, and this acci- 
 dent fostering his turn for reflection had ren- 
 dered him extremely contemplative. He liked 
 to chat with me, and often brought me books, 
 which were almost always works of philosophy, 
 on the principles of which he spoke freely. 
 My mother avoided discussion, and I was afraid 
 of pushing things too far ; she did not, however, 
 hinder me from reading, nor did she blame my 
 choice of subjects. A Genevese watchmaker, 
 connected in the way of business with my father, 
 a worthy man, who always kept a book among 
 his tools and had a tolerable library, with which 
 he was better acquainted than most of your 
 great lords are with theirs, offered me the use 
 of his treasure, so suited to my taste, and I 
 availed myself of his kindness. This good M. 
 
of Madame Roland i6g 
 
 Mor6 was capable of reasoniag, not only on his 
 art,- but on morals and politics; and if he 
 expressed himself with a difficulty that my 
 impatience found hard to support, he shared 
 with most of his countrymen that solidity of 
 intellect which excuses the want of grace. 
 From him I had Buffon, and many other works. 
 I cite this author to repeat what I have said in 
 a former part of my memoirs of the discretion 
 with which I read him. Philosophy, in devel- 
 oping the force of my soul and giving firmness 
 to my mind, had in no way diminished the 
 scruples of sentinient, and the susceptibility of 
 my imagination, against which I had so much 
 reason to guard myself. Natural history at 
 first, and then mathematics, exercised for a 
 time my activity. NoUet, Reaumur, Bonnet 
 (who poetizes where others describe), amused 
 me in turn, as did Maupertuis, who writes 
 elegies while depicting the pleasures of snails. 
 At length Rivard inspired me with the design 
 of becoming a geometrician. Guering, stone- 
 mason and surveyor, who mixed discretion and 
 mildness with the simplicity of the artisan, 
 coming one day to discourse with my father, 
 found me so engrossed with the quarto of 
 
lyo Private Memoirs 
 
 Rivard, that I had not perceived his arrival. 
 He entered into conversation with me, and 
 informed me that Clairaut's Elements would 
 give me much clearer notions upon the sub- 
 ject I was studying; and the next day he 
 brought me a copy of the work which he had 
 in his possession. I found it to contain a sum- 
 mary of the first principles of the science, and 
 considering that the work might be useful to me, 
 and that I could not detain it from the proprie- 
 tor so long as I might wish, I formed, without 
 hesitation, the resolution to copy it from begin- 
 ning to end, including six plates of diagrams. 
 I cannot avoid laughing at this operation when- 
 ever I remember it ; any other than myself would 
 have purchased the book, but the idea never 
 occurred to me, and that of copying came as 
 naturally as that of pricking a pattern for a ruffle, 
 and was almost as soon effected ; for the work 
 was but a small octavo. This pleasant perfor- 
 mance is still, I believe, among my papers. 
 Geometry delighted me as long as there was no 
 necessity for algebra, with the dryness of which 
 I was disgusted as soon as I had passed the first 
 degree of equations. I accordingly threw to 
 the winds the multiplicity of fractions, and 
 
GENSONJSTE 
 
of Madame Roland 171 
 
 found it more profitable to feast upon a good 
 poem than to starve myself with roots. In vain, 
 some years after, did M. Roland, paying his 
 addresses, endeavor to revive in me this 
 ancient taste; we made, indeed, a great many 
 figures; but the mode of deduction by X and 
 Y was never sufficiently attractive to fix my 
 attention. 
 
 September 5. I cut the sheet to inclose what I 
 have written in the little box ; for when I see a 
 revolutionary army decreed, new tribunals formed 
 for shedding innocent blood, famine threatened, 
 and the tyrants at bay, I augur that they must 
 have new victims, and conclude that no one is 
 secure of living another day. 
 
 The correspondence with Sophie was still one 
 of my chief pleasures, and the bands of our 
 friendship had been drawn closer by several 
 journeys which she had made to Paris. My 
 susceptible heart had need, I will not say of an 
 illusion, but of an object upon which to centre 
 its affections, and especially of confidence and 
 communication. Friendship offered them, and I 
 cherished it with ardor. My relation with my 
 
172 Private Memoirs 
 
 mother, agreeable as it was, would not have 
 supplied the place of this affection ; it had too 
 much of the gravity' resulting from respect on 
 the one part, and of authority on the other. 
 My mother might have known everything; I 
 had nothing to conceal from her, but I could 
 not tell her all. To a parent one addresses con- 
 fessions; one can really confide only in an 
 equal. 
 
 My mother, without asking to see the letters 
 I wrote to Sophie, was pleased to have them 
 shown to her; and our arrangement of this 
 matter was not without its humorous side. We 
 understood each other without a word having 
 passed between us on the subject. When I 
 heard from my friend, which I did regularly 
 every week, I read to my mother a few passages 
 from the letter ; when I had written my reply I 
 left it for a day, ready folded and directed, on 
 my table, but unsealed ; my mother scarcely 
 ever failed to glance over its contents, and 
 when I happened to be present on these occa- 
 sions I always found an excuse for retiring, 
 whether she had seen my letter or not; after 
 the supposed necessary interval had elapsed, I 
 sealed and dispatched it, but not always without 
 
of Madame Roland 173 
 
 adding a postscript. It never happened that 
 she made any mention of what she had read ; 
 but I did not fail to inform her by this means 
 of what I wished her to know of my disposition, 
 my taste, and my opinions; and I expressed 
 them with a freedom which I should not have 
 dared to use with her in conversation. My 
 frankness was not at all diminished by this cir- 
 cumstance, for I felt that I had a right to exer- 
 cise it in its full extent, and that there did not 
 exist anywhere a reciprocal right to blame it. 
 I have often thought since, that, had I been in 
 the place of my mother, I should have wished 
 to become the entire confidant of my daughter ; 
 and if I have any present regrets, it is that mine 
 may not be as I was at that time. Were it so, we 
 should proceed on a perfect equality, and I 
 should be happy. But my mother, with much 
 goodness of heart, was at the same time some- 
 what cold. She was prudent rather than ten- 
 der, and more circumspect than unreserved. 
 Perhaps too she perceived in me an ardor that 
 would have hurried me to greater lengths than 
 herself Her manner induced me to behave 
 without constraint, but also without familiarity. 
 She was sparing of caresses, though her eyes. 
 
174 Private Memoirs 
 
 breathing tenderness and love, were continually 
 fixed upon me. I felt upon these occasions her 
 heart ; it fathomed mine ; but the reserve 
 which surrounded her person gave me a degree 
 of reserve in return which I should not other- 
 wise have had, and which seemed to increase as 
 I advanced towards maturity. My mother had 
 a dignity, touching it is true, but still it was 
 dignity. The transports of my ardent nature 
 were repressed by it, and I never knew all the 
 force of my attachment to her, except by the 
 despair and delirium into which I was plunged 
 by her loss. Our days flowed on in a delicious 
 tranquillity; I spent the greater part in my 
 solitary studies, transported to the days of 
 antiquity, and lost in the study of its history 
 and arts, its precepts and, opinions. Mass in 
 the morning, a few hours devoted to common 
 readings, our repasts and our walks were the 
 only opportunities of being with my mother. 
 Our walks were rare, and when we had visitors 
 that were not to my taste, I took care to avoid 
 them by remaining in my closet, which my 
 mother had not the cruelty to obhge me to quit. 
 Sundays and festivals were consecrated to what 
 may be called our rambles, which frequently 
 
of Madame Roland 175 
 
 extended to a distance, owing to my preference 
 for the country to the artificial gardens of the 
 capital. I was, however, by no means insensible 
 to the pleasure of appearing occasionally in the 
 public walks; they afforded at that period a 
 brilliant spectacle, in which the youth of both 
 sexes sustained an agreeable part. Personal 
 graces constantly obtained there the homage of 
 admiration, which modesty cannot but perceive, 
 and of which the heart of a young girl is always 
 avaricious. But it did not satisfy mine ; I ex- 
 perienced after these walks — during which my 
 vanity, powerfully roused, was upon the anxious 
 watch for whatever could show me to advantage 
 and give me the proof that I had made a good 
 use of my time — an insupportable vacuity, an 
 uneasiness and disgust, which were too dear a 
 price for so frivolous an enjoyment. Used to 
 reflect upon and account for my sensations, I 
 sought the cause of this dissatisfaction, and I 
 found full exercise for my philosophy. 
 
 " Is it, then," I reflected, " to glitter to the 
 eye, like the flowers of a parterre, and to re- 
 ceive a few evanescent praises, that persons 
 of my sex are formed to virtue and enriched 
 with talents? What means this intense desire 
 
176 Private Memoirs 
 
 of pleasure with which I feel myself devoured, 
 and which is still insufficient to render me 
 happy, even when it should seem to be most 
 gratified? What good do I derive from the 
 prying looks, the flattering whispers, of a crowd, 
 of which I have no knowledge, and composed 
 of persons whom, did I know them, I should 
 probably despise? Am I then placed in the 
 world to waste my existence in vain cares and 
 tumultuous sensations? Doubtless I have a 
 better and nobler destination ! The admiration, 
 which I so ardently feel for whatever is virtuous, 
 wise, exalted, and generous, tells me that I am 
 called to practise these things. The sublime 
 and interesting duties of a wife and a mother 
 may some day be mine ; the days of my youth 
 therefore should be employed in rendering me 
 equal to the discharge of them ; I ought to study 
 their importance ; I ought to learn, by regulat- 
 ing my own inclinations, how to direct hereafter 
 those of my children; by the habit of self- 
 restraint, by the cultivation of my mind, I ought 
 to secure to myself the means of effecting the 
 happiness of the most delightful of societies, 
 of providing a never-failing source of felicity 
 for the man who shall merit my esteem and 
 
of Madame Roland 177 
 
 love, and of communicating to all that surround 
 us a charm and lustre that shall be the entire 
 work of my own hands." 
 
 Such were the thoughts that agitated my 
 breast. Overcome with emotion, my heart 
 shed its transports in tears; and ascending to 
 that supreme Intelligence, that First Cause, that 
 glorious Providence, that principle of thought 
 and of sentiment, which it felt the necessity of 
 believing and acknowledging, " O Thou," it ex- 
 claimed, " who hast placed me on the earth, 
 enable me to fill my destination in the manner 
 most conformable to Thy divine will, and most 
 beneficial to the welfare of my brethren of 
 mankind ! " 
 
 This concise prayer, simple as the heart that 
 dictated it, has become my only one; never 
 have the doubts of philosophy, or any species 
 of dissipation, been able to dry up its source. 
 From the tumult of the world and from the 
 depth of a prison, it has ascended with the 
 same energy. I have pronounced it with trans- 
 port in the most splendid conjunctures of my 
 life; I repeat it in fetters with resignation; 
 anxious in the former to guard myself from 
 everything that was unworthy of the dignity 
 
178 Private Memoirs 
 
 of my station, careful in the latter to preserve 
 the necessary fortitude for supporting me in 
 the trials to which I am exposed; persuaded 
 that, in the course of things, there are events 
 against which human prudence cannot guard; 
 that the heaviest afflictions cannot crush the 
 virtuous, the firm-fixed soul; and that peace 
 with one's self, resignation to one's lot, are the 
 elements of felicity, and form the true inde- 
 pendence of the sage and the hero. 
 
 The country presented objects more con- 
 genial to my habits of meditation, to that 
 serious, tender, and pensive disposition, forti- 
 fied by reflection and the developments of a 
 sensible heart. We often went to Meudon, 
 which was my favorite walk. I preferred its 
 wild woods, its soUtary ponds, its pine vistas, 
 and its lofty groves, to the frequented paths 
 and uniform coppices of the Bois de Boulogne, 
 to the decorations of Bellevue, or the clipped 
 alleys of St. Cloud. 
 
 "Where shall we go to-morrow, if the weather 
 be fine ? " said my father on the Saturday even- 
 ings in summer, looking smilingly at me ; " shall 
 we go to St. Cloud ? The fountains are to play : 
 there will be a world of company." 
 
of Madame Roland 179 
 
 " Ah, papa ! I should hke it far better if you 
 would go to Meudon." 
 
 By five the next morning everybody was up ; 
 a light dress, clean and simple, some flowers, 
 and a gauze veil, announced the plan of the day. 
 The Odes of Rousseau, a volume of Corneille, 
 or some other author, constituted my baggage. 
 We embarked at the Port-Royal, which I could 
 see from my window, in a little boat that 
 smoothly and swiftly conveyed us to the shores 
 of Bellevue, not far from the glassworks, the 
 thick black smoke of which was visible at some 
 distance. Thence by steep paths we gained the 
 avenue of Meudon, a little beyond the midway 
 of which was a little cottage on the right, which 
 became one of our resting-places. It was the 
 house of a widow, a milkwoman, who lived 
 there with her two cows and her poultry. As it 
 was important to spend the best hours of the day 
 in our ramble, we agreed to stop at the cottage 
 on our return, to drink a cup of fresh milk with 
 our hostess. This arrangement came to form 
 a regular part of the day's programme, and 
 thenceforth we seldom entered the avenue 
 without stopping to tell our friend that she 
 might expect to see us in the evening or the 
 
i8o Private Memoirs 
 
 next day, and that she must not forget our 
 bowl of milk. 
 
 The good woman received us with much kind- 
 ness ; and our repast, seasoned with a cheerful 
 temper, had always the air of a little feast, of 
 which some remembrance survived each time in 
 the pocket of the milkwoman. Our dinner we 
 took at the lodge of one of the Swiss of the park ; 
 but my turn for exploration soon led to the dis- 
 covery of a retreat better suited to my taste. 
 One day, after having , strolled a long time in an 
 unfrequented part of the wood, we reached a 
 solitary spot at the end of an alley of lofty trees, 
 the silence of which was rarely disturbed by 
 promenaders. A few trees scattered on the 
 smooth sward almost concealed a pretty, two- 
 storied cottage. " Ah ! what is here ? " ex- 
 claimed one of us. 
 
 Two fine children were playing before the 
 door, which was open. They had neither 
 the town-bred air, nor those marks of poverty 
 and distress that belong to the country. We 
 approached : we saw upon the left a kitchen 
 garden, with an old man at work in it. We 
 entered, and opened a conversation. The 
 name of the place was Ville Bonne; its occu- 
 
of Madame Roland i8i 
 
 pant was the water-bailiff of the Moulin-Rouge, 
 whose office it was to see that the artificial 
 canals of the park were kept in repair. His 
 small salary contributed in part to support a 
 little family, of which the two children were 
 members, and the old man their grandfather. 
 It was the occupation of the mother to take 
 care of the house, of the old man to cultivate 
 the garden, and of the son to carry its produce 
 to market, whenever his avocations would al- 
 low him. The garden was a long square, 
 divided into four parts; a walk sufficiently 
 wide led round them; in the centre was a pond 
 for irrigation ; at the farther end was an arbor 
 of yews inclosing a stone bench, inviting at 
 once for rest and shade. Flowers interspersed 
 among the kitchen plants gave the garden an 
 air of gayety and beauty. The old man, sturdy 
 and contented, reminded me of the peasant of 
 the banks of the Galesus, whom Virgil has 
 sung. He talked with an obliging air, and in 
 a sensible tone. A taste for simplicity would 
 alone have made such an encounter agreeable ; 
 but my fancy did not fail to surround it with a 
 thousand imaginary charms. We asked whether 
 they were in_ the habit of receiving guests. 
 
i8 2 Private Memoirs 
 
 " Strangers seldom come to this place," said 
 the old man; "scarcely anybody finds it; but 
 when they do, we willingly serve to them the 
 produce of our farm-yard and our garden." 
 We expressed a desire to dine with him, and 
 we had a repast of new-laid eggs, pulse, and 
 a salad, in a pretty arbor of honeysuckle be- 
 hind the house. I never ate so delicious a 
 meal. My heart expanded in contemplating 
 the tranquillity and innocence of so charming 
 a situation. I caressed the children ; I accosted 
 the old man with reverence. The mother 
 seemed pleased with the task of serving us. 
 They told us of two rooms in their house which 
 they could let for three months to anybody that 
 was disposed to hire them. We formed the 
 project of becoming their tenants. This plan 
 was never carried out; nor have I seen Ville 
 Bonne from that time.^ 
 
 Meudon had been our usual resort before we 
 made this discovery, and we had fixed upon a 
 little inn in the village for our lodging, whenever 
 two holidays coming together permitted us to 
 prolong our absence. At this inn, the sign of 
 
 ^ There is a lapse of memory here, for Madame Roland 
 speaks later on of a second visit to Ville Bonne. 
 
of Madame Roland 183 
 
 which I think was the Queen of France, we met 
 with a humorous adventure. We occupied a 
 two-bedded room; in the largest of the beds I 
 slept with my mother ; the other, which was in 
 a corner, served my father. One evening, as 
 soon as he was in bed, the fancy took him of 
 drawing his curtains perfectly close, and he 
 pulled them with so good a will as to bring the 
 tester and all its apparatus upon him at once. 
 After a moment of alarm, we began to laugh 
 very heartily at the accident: the tester had 
 fallen in a true perpendicular, so as to form a 
 perfect cage for my father without hurting him. 
 We called for assistance to set him at liberty; 
 the good woman of the house arrived ; she was 
 astonished to see her bed stripped of the hon- 
 ors of its capital, and exclaimed, with the ut- 
 most simplicity, " My God, how could this 
 happen? It is seventeen years since the bed 
 was put up in that very spot ; and in all that 
 time it has never budged an inch." The logic 
 of the hostess made me laugh more than the 
 crash of the bed. I recollected it however 
 afterwards, and thought I could often see suffi- 
 cient reason to compare the arguments I heard 
 in the world with the logic of the landlady of 
 
184 Private Memoirs 
 
 Meudon. Upon such occasions I would whis- 
 per to my mother, and say, "Now that is as 
 good as the argument of the seventeen years 
 to prove the immovability of the bed." 
 
 Delightful Meudon ! how oft have I breathed 
 peace and joy beneath thy shades, blessing the 
 great Author of my existence, and desiring 
 what might at some future time complete it, but 
 with that charming tranquillity, that desire with- 
 out impatience, which does but color the clouds 
 of futurity with the rays of hope. How many 
 times have I gathered in thy cool retreat 
 branches of the spotted fern, and flowers of the 
 gay woodbine ! How was I enchanted to repose 
 under the lofty trees near the smooth lawns, 
 where I saw passing sometimes the swift and 
 timorous fawn ! I recall those still deeper 
 coverts, where we retired from the heat of the 
 day. There, while my father, stretched on the 
 turf, and my mother, peacefully reclined on a 
 heap of leaves which I had collected for the pur- 
 pose, enjoyed their noontide nap, did I contem- 
 plate the majesty of thy silent groves, admire 
 the beauty of nature, and adore the Providence 
 whose benefits I felt. The glow of sentiment 
 warmed my humid cheeks, and the charms of 
 
CHATBATJ DE MEUDOISr 
 
 ABOTJT 1710 
 
of Madame Roland 185 
 
 the terrestrial paradise existed for my heart in 
 thy wild and rural recesses ! 
 
 The recitals of my rambles, and the delight 
 they afforded me, had their place in my letters 
 to Sophie; sometimes my prose was inter- 
 spersed with verse, the artless but facile and 
 sometimes happy effusions of a soul to which 
 all was life, joy, and pageant. Sophie, as I have 
 observed, found herself cast into a world where 
 she had none of the pleasures which she knew 
 me to enjoy. I was acquainted with some per- 
 sons of her family, and I learned from their 
 society to appreciate more highly my dear retire- 
 ment and solitude. In one of her journeys with 
 her mother, she stopped at Paris with some 
 cousins, who were called the demoiselles de 
 Lamotte. They were two maiden ladies, of 
 whom one, a sour devotee, never stirred from 
 her chamber, where she said her prayers, scolded 
 the domestics, knitted stockings, and reasoned 
 with tolerable acuteness about her personal in- 
 terests ; the other a good sort of woman, kept 
 to the parlor, did the honors of the house, read 
 the psalms, and enjoyed her game at quadrille. 
 Both set great store upon the nobility of their 
 blood, and could scarcely conceive the possi- 
 
1 86 Private Memoirs 
 
 bility of composing their society of persons 
 whose father at least had not been ennobled; 
 and, without daring to use it, kept under safe 
 custody the sac with which their mother used 
 to appear at church, as an evidence of their high 
 descent. They had taken under their protection 
 a young woman, their relation, whose slender 
 fortune they proposed to augment, provided 
 she could find a gentleman to espouse her. 
 Mademoiselle d'Hangard was a tall brunette, of 
 a ruddy complexion, and health so vigorous as 
 almost to disgust ; whose provincial manners 
 were little calculated to conceal her defects of 
 temper and commonness of mind. But the odd- 
 est specimen in this household was the coun- 
 sellor Perdu, a widower who had wasted his 
 fortune in idleness; and whom his sister (the 
 mother of my Sophie) had installed with his 
 cousins as a lodger in order that he might pass 
 in decency the remaining years of his useless 
 existence. M. Perdu, plump and well-kept, 
 devoted the bulk of the morning to the care of 
 his precious person. At table he ate slowly, 
 abusing the dishes the while, and he passed 
 several hours of the day (which he deigned 
 to close with a game of piquet) in declaiming 
 
of Madame Roland 187 
 
 at Luxembourg. He attached even more im- 
 portance to his gentility than did his cousins, 
 and piqued himself upon practising all the airs, 
 and laying down all the principles of it. When 
 I spoke of this uncle of hers to Sophie, I 
 could never call him by any other appellation 
 than the " Commandeur," so strongly did he re- 
 semble the character under that title drawn by 
 Crdbillon in his "Pere de Famille." Accord- 
 ingly, with his nieces the " Commandeur " had 
 always an air of superiority, which he pretended 
 to temper with the condescensions of politeness ; 
 but there was something whimsically absurd in 
 his behavior to Mademoiselle d'Hangard, whose 
 ruddy complexion and continual presence, in- 
 flaming his imagination, inspired him with sen- 
 sations he dared not betray, and occasioned 
 ill-humor of which his nephew was in general 
 the sufferer. 
 
 This nephew, whom they called S^lincour, 
 was a well grown youth, with a pleasing voice 
 and an interesting face, and resembled a little his 
 sister Sophie. He was a vivacious talker, and 
 his engaging manners were not disfigured by a 
 certain timidity — at least such was my opinion, 
 towards whom this trait was principally mani- 
 
1 88 Private Memoirs 
 
 fested. The wishes of his family appeared to 
 point him out as the suitor of Mademoiselle 
 d'Hangard. 
 
 As to the society of the demoiselles de 
 Lamotte, it was composed of a Count d'Essales, 
 created a Chevalier of St. Louis at Canada, 
 where he had married the daughter of the 
 governor ; ignorant, vain, garrulous, and a brag- 
 gart, but taking care to keep well away from 
 the scent of powder, he had just formed an 
 acquaintance with a Marchioness de Cailla- 
 velle, a dowager with whom he had more than 
 one game to play, which the old ladies did 
 not detect. Madame Bernier, a rigid Jansenist, 
 but otherwise a sensible woman, whose husband 
 had quitted the Parliament of Brittany at the 
 time of the affair of la Chalotais, also made her 
 appearance sometimes, but more rarely, with 
 her two daughters, the one a blue-stocking, the 
 other a devotee. The tender heart of the latter 
 would have attracted me; but her bent neck 
 bore with difficulty a head so crammed with 
 religion, that there was no room there for 
 reasoning. The savante, with rather too much 
 loquacity, had judgment and taste enough just 
 to render a repulsive figure supportable. But 
 
of Madame Roland 189 
 
 M. de Vouglans soared above them all. A 
 delineation of his character would be super- 
 fluous to those who have read the book entitled, 
 " Reasons for my Faith in Jesus Christ, by a 
 Magistrate," and the " Collection of Penal Laws," 
 an elaborate compilation, in which fanaticism and 
 atrocity emulate each other. I never met with 
 a man whose sanguinary intolerance so terribly 
 shocked me. He was delighted with the con- 
 versation of Father Romain Joly, a little old 
 Capuchin confessor of the demoiselles de La- 
 motte, who made verses against Voltaire, in 
 which he compared him to the devil, and cited 
 continually in the pulpit the laws of Charle- 
 magne, and the ed|cts of our monarchs. I 
 have had the advantage of dining with him at 
 the table of the Lamottes, of hearing him at 
 my parish church, and of reading his " Phae- 
 ton." He would have afforded me a capital 
 subject for caricature, had I then had the cour- 
 age to strip away his frock, and expose his 
 hypocrisy and folly and his puerile attain- 
 ments. The friend of Sophie cut an amusing 
 figure in that society, where it was regretted, 
 in her absence, that " a young person so well 
 brought up lacked the advantage of birth." I 
 
1 90 Private Memoirs 
 
 do not doubt that the " Commandeur," with his 
 usual sagacity, had more than once gravely con- 
 sidered whether such a connection was quite 
 suitable for his niece. But the " young person " 
 was at least well behaved, a quality on which his 
 cousins laid great stress ; and, except as to some 
 phrases " qui sentaient V esprit" and which the 
 " Commandeur " did not fail to animadvert upon 
 to his niece, even he could not refrain from be- 
 stowing his encomiums. Nay, he would some- 
 times take charge of the letters of Sophie, 
 and condescend to bring them himself to my 
 mother's : a circumstance that would have hap- 
 pened much more frequently to S61incour, if 
 his sister would have consented to his execut- 
 ing the commission. 
 
 The insignificance and disgusting oddities of 
 these personages — and without doubt, thought 
 I, there must be multitudes in the world of a 
 similar complexion — made me reflect on the in- 
 anity of society and the advantage of not being 
 constrained to frequent it. Sophie gave me a 
 list of the persons with whom she associated at 
 Amiens, with a sketch, as nearly as she could 
 delineate it, of their characters, which enabled 
 me to judge of the resources and qualifications 
 
of Madame Roland 191 
 
 of the majority of them ; and when the bal- 
 ance was struck, it appeared that, at the end 
 of the year, I had seen in my solitude more 
 people of merit than she had been able to per- 
 ceive in all the concourse and dazzle of fashion. 
 This is not difficult to conceive, if it be remem- 
 bered that the business of my father connected 
 him with a variety of artists, of whom, though 
 none visited him regularly, many were found 
 occasionally at his house. Those who inhabit 
 the capital, even if they are not of the first 
 rank, acquire a fund of information and a kind 
 of urbanity that assuredly are not to be found 
 in the provincial gentry, or in the class of mer- 
 chants eager to make a fortune that they may 
 purchase a title. The conversation of the good 
 JoUain, a painter of the Academy ; of the honest 
 Lupine, pupil of Pigale; of Desmarteau, who 
 sometimes worked with my father on the same 
 plate ; of the son of Falconet, of d'Hauterne, 
 whose talents would have borne him on rapid 
 wings to the Academy, had not his Protes- 
 tantism been in the way; of the Genevese 
 watchmakers, Ballexserd and Mor6, the former 
 of whom has written on the physical branch of 
 education, — was certainly infinitely preferable 
 
192 Private Memoirs 
 
 to that of Cannet with all his hoard of wealth, 
 who seeing the success of a tragedy composed by 
 his kinsman Belloy, and calculating the profits 
 of it, said seriously, and with some irritation: 
 "Why did not my father teach me to write 
 tragedies? I could have composed them on 
 Sundays and holidays." And yet these wealthy 
 blockheads, these despicable nobles, these im- 
 pertinent militaires like d'Essales, these miser- 
 able magistrates like Vouglans, conceived 
 themselves the props of civil society, and ac- 
 tually enjoyed privileges denied to merit! I 
 compared these absurdities of human arrogance 
 with the pictures of Pope, tracing its effects 
 from the cobbler to the king, the one vain of 
 his apron, the other of his crown; and I en- 
 deavored to conclude with him that "what- 
 ever is, is right ; " but my free and independent 
 temper could not but perceive that it was much 
 better in a republic. 
 
 There is no doubt that our situation in life 
 influences considerably our characters and opin- 
 ions; but, in the education I received, in the 
 ideas I acquired, whether by study or by obser- 
 vation of the world, everything may be said to 
 have conspired to instil into my mind a repub- 
 
of Madame Roland 193 
 
 lican enthusiasm, by causing me to perceive the 
 folly, or feel the injustice of a multitude of 
 social pre-eminences and distinctions. Thus, 
 in all my readings, I was impassioned for the 
 reformers of inequality ; I was Agis and Cleo- 
 menes at Sparta, the Gracchi at Rome; and, 
 like Cornelia, I should have reproached my 
 sons for permitting me to be called only the 
 mother-in-law of Scipio ; I retired with the 
 plebeians to the Aventine, and I voted for the 
 tribunes. Now that experience hab taught me 
 to appreciate everything with impartiality ; I see 
 in the enterprise of the Gracchi and in the con- 
 duct of the tribunes crimes and mischiefs which 
 did not then sufficiently strike me. 
 
 When I happened to be present at any of the 
 spectacles so frequent in the capital, as the 
 entrances of the queen or princes, thanksgiving 
 after a lying-in, etc., I compared with grief this 
 insolent pomp of Asiatic luxury with the abject 
 misery of the deluded people, who prostrated 
 themselves before these idols of their own mak- 
 ing, and foolishly applauded the ostentatious 
 magnificence which they paid for themselves 
 with the necessaries of life. The dissolute 
 character of the court during the last years of 
 >3 
 
1 94 Private Memoirs 
 
 Louis XV., that contempt of morals which 
 reigned in all ranks of the nation, those ex- 
 cesses which were the commonplaces of con- 
 versation, struck me with astonishment and 
 indignation. Not then observing the germs of 
 a revolution, I asked with surprise how things 
 could endure in this state? I had remarked in 
 history the invariable decline and subversion of 
 empires when arrived at this pitch of corrup- 
 tion; yet I heard the French nation singing 
 and laughing at its own miseries, and I felt that 
 our neighbors, the English, were right in re- 
 garding us as children. I attached myself to 
 these neighbors; the work of Delolme had 
 familiarized me with their constitution ; I sought 
 acquaintance with their writers, and studied 
 their literature, but as yet only through the 
 medium of translations. 
 
 The arguments of Ballexserd having been in- 
 sufficient to vanquish the repugnance of my 
 parents to inoculate me in my infancy, I was at 
 eighteen seized with the small-pox. This epoch 
 has left deep impressions on my memory ; not 
 from the terrors I felt on account of the malady, 
 for I had already too much philosophy not to 
 sustain it with courage ; but from the incredible 
 
of Madame Roland 195 
 
 and affecting solicitude of my mother. How 
 agitated by disquietude! What tenderness in 
 all her attentions ! Even during the night, 
 when I asked for anything, expecting to receive 
 it from my nurse, I felt the hand and heard the 
 voice of my mother. She was every moment out 
 of her bed to attend at my pillow ; her anxious 
 eyes devoured the looks, and, if I may so express 
 myself, the words of my physician ; in spite of 
 her resolution to suppress them, the tears stole 
 from her eyes when she looked at me, while I 
 endeavored in vain to soothe her agitation with 
 a smile. Neither she nor my father had ever 
 had the disease, yet neither of them would 
 suffer a day to pass without pressing with their 
 lips my disfigured face, which I strove in vain to 
 conceal from them, fearful lest its touch should 
 be fatal. My Agathe, deploring that she was 
 confined to her cloister, sent to me one of her 
 relations, the amiable mother of four chil- 
 dren, whom she had inspired with a portion 
 of her attachment for me, and who obstinately 
 persisted in seeing and embracing me without 
 consideration for herself. It was necessary to 
 conceal from my Sophie, then at Paris, the con- 
 dition of her friend; and I was supposed to 
 
196 
 
 Private Memoirs 
 
 have suddenly set off for the country, that the 
 critical period might elapse without our meet- 
 ing ; but S^lincour called every day to learn the 
 progress of my disorder, and I heard from my 
 chamber his dolorous exclamation when he was 
 told that the complication of a putrid fever 
 was apprehended. I had fortunately the miliary 
 fever ; and the eruption which is peculiar to it 
 checking the other, the disorder was accom- 
 panied only with those large pustules, thinly 
 scattered, which subside without suppuration, 
 and leave only a dry skin that falls off of it- 
 self. It is the species of small-pox, said Dr. 
 Missa, which the Italians denominate ravaglioni, 
 pustules of false suppuration, and which leave 
 no vestiges behind ; and in fact not even the pol- 
 ish of my skin was injured by it ; but long illness 
 threw me into a languor and debility from which 
 it was four or five months before I completely 
 recovered. Pensive in health, and too tender to 
 be gay, but patient in sickness, my sole object 
 was to divert my attention from my own suffer- 
 ings, and to render less irksome the cares which 
 my condition imposed upon those about me. 
 I gave fancy the reins, prattled all sorts of 
 nonsense, and, so far from requiring to be 
 
of Madame Roland 197 
 
 diverted myself, it was I who caused the others 
 to laugh. 
 
 My physician, Dr. Missa, was a man of gotfd 
 sense, and pleased me exceedingly. As he was 
 somewhat advanced in years, I could dispense 
 with the constraint which I was accustomed to 
 show toward those of his sex ; we chatted freely 
 during his visits, which he willingly prolonged, 
 and we became fast friends. " One or other of 
 us," said he one day, " has been much to blame. 
 Either I have come into the world too soon, or 
 you too late." Though Missa interested me by 
 his talents, his age had prevented me from per- 
 ceiving that I had any reason to lament being 
 born later than himself; and I replied only by 
 a smile. He had taken some nieces under his 
 care with whom he wished me to be acquainted, 
 and we exchanged visits several times ; but, as 
 they went out as seldom without their governess 
 as I did withoqt my mother, and as their uncle, 
 from the nature of his profession, could not 
 attend to it, the connection, on account of the 
 distance and our mutual sedentary habits, was 
 dropped. One day Missa scolded because he 
 found on my bed Malebranche's " La Recherche 
 de la Veritd." " Good ! " said I, " but if all 
 
igS 
 
 Private Memoirs 
 
 your patients would amuse themselves in the 
 same way, instead of railing against their 
 maladies and their doctor, you would have 
 much less business." Some company who were 
 then in my room were discoursing of a new 
 loan, for which the edict had just appeared, and 
 to which all Paris eagerly crowded. 
 
 " The French," said Missa, " take all upon trust." 
 
 " Say, rather," I observed) " upon appear- 
 ances." 
 
 " True," returned he ; " the expression is just 
 and profound." 
 
 " Don't scold me then for reading Male- 
 branche," interrupted I, with vivacity, " you 
 see I do not throw away my time upon him." 
 
 Missa was at that time assisted in his visits 
 by a young physician, who had recently taken 
 his degree, and whom he sometimes despatched 
 in advance to wait his arrival. This person, to 
 use Missa's expression, would not have had the 
 fault of having come too soon into the world; 
 but then to a tolerable person he added a 
 consequential air that displeased me. I had 
 naturally so strong an aversion to every sort 
 of affectation and self-sufficiency that I con- 
 sidered both to be the proof of a limited under- 
 
of Madame Roland igg 
 
 standing, if not of absolute weakness; though 
 it is true that, under the old regime, they were 
 sometimes only an eccentricity of youth. In 
 short, so far from deceiving me, they create at 
 once an unfavorable impression, and I always 
 form a low opinion of people who display them. 
 This is all I remember of the young doctor, 
 whom I have never seen since, and whom I 
 shall probably never see again. 
 
 The country being judged necessary to my 
 perfect recovery, we went to breathe its salutary 
 air at the house of M. and Madame Besnard, 
 with whom two years previously my mother and 
 I had spent almost the whole of September. 
 Their situation was admirably calculated to 
 nourish my philosophy and to fix my medita- 
 tions on the vices of the social organization. 
 
 Madame Besnard, upon the reverse of fortune 
 common to her and her sisters, had entered 
 into the family of 2i fermier-ght^ral, whose house 
 she superintended ; it was that of the old 
 Haudry. She had there espoused an Intendant, 
 M. Besnard, with whom, having retired for 
 some time from their occupations, she lived 
 comfortably in peace and happiness. 
 
 The ill-placed pride of Madame Phlipon had 
 
2 00 Private Memoirs 
 
 led her sometimes to express in my presence 
 and in the privacy of the family how much this 
 marriage had displeased her; but, as far as I 
 can judge, she was certainly offended unjustly. 
 M. Besnard was possessed of integrity and 
 honor, qualities that should have recommended 
 him the more, as they were rare in his station 
 of life; and the most delicate behavior has 
 ever marked his conduct to his wife. It is 
 impossible to carry veneration, tenderness, and 
 attachment to a higher pitch. In the sweets 
 of a perfect union, they still prolong a career 
 in which, like another Baucis and Philemon, 
 they win the respect of all who witness their 
 simplicity of life and their virtues. I esteem it 
 an honor to be related to them; and should 
 do so equally, if, with the same character and 
 conduct, M. Besnard had been a footman. 
 
 [The old Haudry, creator of the vast fortune 
 of the family, was deceased, and had left a large 
 estate to his son, who, born and educated in 
 opulence, was fashioned to dissipate it. This 
 son, who had already lost a charming wife, lived 
 extravagantly, and, according to the custom of 
 the rich, spent a part of the year at his chiteau 
 of Soucy, whither he transplanted the manners 
 
of Madame Roland 201 
 
 and mode of life of the town, instead of adopt- 
 ing those of the country. He had several 
 neighboring estates, of which that nearest to 
 Soucy (Fontenay), had an old mansion belong- 
 ing to it that he loved to have occupied ; and 
 he bad prevailed on M. and Madame Besnard 
 to accept apartments there, in which they passed 
 a part of the summer. This at once contributed 
 to keep up the place, and to give that air of 
 magnificence to his establishments, of which he 
 was ambitious. M. and Madame Besnard were 
 well accommodated, and enjoyed the use of the 
 park, the wildness of which made an agreeable 
 contrast with that of Soucy, and delighted me 
 more than the artificial luxury, which distin- 
 guished the abode of the fermier-g^n^ral. Soon 
 after our arrival, Madame Besnard requested 
 us to make a visit with her to Soucy, where 
 the sister-in-law and stepmother of Haudry 
 resided with him and did the honors of his 
 house. This visit was modestly paid before 
 dinner ; and I entered, without the least feeling 
 of pleasure, into the salon, where Madame 
 P6nault and her daughter received us, with 
 great politeness, it is true, but a politeness that 
 savored a little of superiority. The propriety 
 
20 2 Private Memoirs ^ 
 
 of my mother's behavior, and something too 
 that appeared in me, in spite of that air of 
 timidity which is produced by a feeling of our 
 value and a doubt whether it will be appreciated 
 by others, scarcely allowed them to exercise it. 
 I received some compliments, which gave me 
 little pleasure, and to which I replied with a 
 concealed air of irony; when certain parasites, 
 Croix de St. Louis, always haunting the man- 
 sions of opulence, as shadows flit on the banks 
 of the Acheron, came in to restore to them 
 their self-complacence. 
 
 The ladies did not fail, a few days after, to 
 return our visit. Three or four persons accom- 
 panied them, who happened to be at the 
 chUteau, their paying their respects to us serving 
 merely for the termination of their walk. Upon 
 this occasion I was more agreeable, and suc- 
 ceeded in infusing into my part of the reception 
 the proportion of modest and decent politeness 
 which re-estabhshed the equihbrium. Madame 
 P^nault invited us to dinner ; but I was never 
 more astonished than on learning that it was not 
 to her own table, but to that of the servants. I 
 was sensible, however, that, as M. Besnard had 
 formerly been in that station, I ought not, out 
 
of Madame Roland 203 
 
 of respect to him, to appear averse to accom- 
 panying them ; but I felt that Madame P^nault 
 ought to have arranged things otherwise, or 
 spared us this contemptuous civility. My aunt 
 saw it in the same light ; but, to avoid any Httle 
 scene, we accepted the invitation. These infe- 
 rior household deities were a new spectacle to 
 me, for I had formed no conception of ladies'- 
 maids personating grandeur. They were pre- 
 pared to receive us; and, indeed, aped their 
 superiors admirably well. Toilet, gesture, affec- 
 tation, graces, nothing was forgotten. The cast- 
 off dresses of their mistresses gave to the female 
 part of the household a richness of appearance 
 that honest tradespeople would think out of char- 
 acter to themselves; The caricature of hon ton 
 added to their garb a sort of elegance, not less 
 foreign to bourgeois simplicity than odious in 
 the eye of an artist. In spite of all this, how- 
 ever, the fluency of their prate and the multi- 
 plicity of their grimaces would no doubt have 
 inspired awe into rustics. It was still worse 
 with the men. The sword of " M. le maitre," the 
 attentions of " M. le chef," the graces and fine 
 clothes of the valets, could not cloak their gauck- 
 eries or the jargon they affected when they 
 
204 Private Memoirs 
 
 wished to seem distinguished, or their native 
 vulgarity of speech when for a moment they 
 forgot their assumed gentility. The conversa- 
 tion glittered with marquises, counts, financiers, 
 whose titles, fortunes, and alliances shed a 
 second-hand splendor on those who so glibly 
 discoursed of them. The superfluities of the 
 first table were transferred to the second with an 
 order and despatch that made them appear as 
 if then served for the first time, and with a pro- 
 fusion that sufficed to deck a third table, that of 
 the servants — for it seems the domestics of the 
 first grade called themselves " officiers." After 
 dinner, cards were introduced: the stake was 
 high ; it was that for which these " demoiselles " 
 were accustomed to play, and they played every 
 day. I was introduced to a new world, in which 
 were reflected the prejudices, the vices, and the 
 follies of the great world, the value of which is 
 not really superior, though the show be some- 
 what more dazzling. I had heard a thousand 
 times of the beginnings of old Haudry, of his 
 coming to Paris from his village, and rising by 
 degrees to the accumulation of thousands at 
 the expense of the public ; of his marrying his 
 daughter to Montule, his granddaughters to the 
 
of Madame Roland 205 
 
 Marquis du Chillau and Count Turpin, and leav- 
 ing his son heir to immense treasures. I agreed 
 with Montesquieu that financiers support the 
 state, just as the cord supports the criminal. I 
 judged that publicans who found means to enrich 
 themselves to this degree, and to use their 
 wealth as an engine by which to unite them- 
 selves with families of rank, which the policy of 
 courts regards as essential to the glory and safety 
 of a kingdom — I judged that characters like 
 these could belong only to a detestable govern- 
 ment and a depraved nationj I little thought 
 that there was a government still more horrible, 
 and a corruption more deplorable and odious. 
 And who, indeed, would have imagined it? All 
 the philosophers of the age have been deceived 
 like myself. The system I refer to is that of 
 the present moment. 
 
 On Sunday at Soucy a dance was held in the 
 open air, with no other shelter than the trees. 
 Gayety, upon this occasion, suspended distinc- 
 tions ; and when the trial fairly came who should 
 appear to the most advantage, I did not fear to 
 be able to maintain the rank that belonged to 
 me. The new-comers asked in a whisper who I 
 was, but I did not fatigue their sight with my 
 
2o6 Private Memoirs 
 
 presence, and, after an hour of this sort of relax- 
 ation, I withdrew with my relations to a select 
 and sober walk, one moment of which I would 
 not have sacrificed to the noisy splendor, always 
 cold and uninteresting to my heart, that was to 
 enable me to show off my personal charms. 
 During my stay at Fontenay I frequently saw 
 Haudry, who was still young, assuming the man 
 of rank, giving the rein to his caprices, and 
 wishing to appear generous and noble. His 
 family began already to be uneasy, and his ex- 
 travagances with the courtesan La Guerre has- 
 tened his ruin. He was pitied as imprudent, 
 rather than blamed as vicious ; he was the spoiled 
 child of fortune, who had he been born in mod- 
 erate circumstances would have proved perhaps 
 of some value. Of a dark complexion, a high 
 forehead, the manners of a patron, and an air 
 of courtesy, he was perhaps amiable among 
 those whom he esteemed as his equals ; but it 
 was painful to me to meet him, and his presence 
 always inspired me with a gravity that bordered 
 upon disdain. 
 
 Last year, coming out of the superb dining- 
 room which the profuse Calonne caused to be 
 constructed in the house of the comptroller- 
 
of Madame Roland 207 
 
 general, since occupied by the Minister of the 
 Interior, I met in the second antechamber a tall, 
 gray-haired man of respectable appearance, who 
 accosted me respectfully: "I wished, Madame, 
 to speak with the Minister ^ when he had risen 
 from table ; I have some business with him." 
 
 " Sir, you will see him in an instant : he has 
 been detained in the next apartment, from which . 
 he is now coming out." 
 
 I bowed, and proceeded to my own apart- 
 ment. Some time after Roland came to me. I 
 asked if he had seen a person whom I described 
 to him, and who appeared apprehensive of not 
 meeting him. 
 
 " Yes, it was M. Haudry." 
 
 " What, the quondam fermier-g^n^ral, who 
 squandered such an immense estate?" 
 
 "The same." 
 
 " And what had he to do with the Minister 
 of the Interior?" 
 
 " He had some business with me on account 
 of the manufactory at Sevres, at the head of 
 which he has been placed." What a reverse 
 of fortune ! a new theme of meditation, — for 
 I had already found one when I entered for the 
 
 ' Roland. 
 
2o8 Private Memoirs 
 
 first time these apartments, occupied by Madame 
 Necker in the days of her glory. I occupied 
 them then for the second time, and they do but 
 attest the more fully the instability of human 
 affairs; but, at least the revolutions of fortune 
 shall not find me unprepared. Such were my 
 reflections in October, 1 792, when Danton sought 
 by magnifying me to belittle my husband, and 
 was silently preparing the calumnies by which 
 he meant to assail us both.^ I was ignorant of 
 his proceedings, but I had observed the course 
 of things in revolutions. I was ambitious only 
 to preserve my soul pure, and to see the glory 
 of my husband equally unsullied. I well knew 
 that this kind of ambition rarely leads to other 
 species of success. My wish is accomplished : 
 Roland, persecuted and proscribed, will not 
 wholly die to posterity. I am a captive, and 
 shall probably fall a victim ; but my conscience 
 requites me for all. It has happened to me as 
 it did to Solomon, who demanded only wisdom, 
 and was endowed with other blessings : I wished 
 
 1 After Roland's resignation as Minister of the Interior, 
 when the question came up in the Convention of asking him 
 to remain in office, Danton sarcastically suggested : " If you 
 invite him, invite Madame Roland too; everybody knows 
 that he has not been alone in his department." 
 
of Madame Roland 209 
 
 but for the peace of the righteous, and I also 
 shall have some existence in future generations. 
 But let us return to Fontenay. 
 
 The little library of my relations aflforded 
 me some resources. I found there the works 
 of Puffendorf, tedious perhaps in his universal 
 history, but interesting to me in his " Duties of 
 the Man and the Citizen ; " the " Maison Rus- 
 tique," and other works of agriculture and 
 economy, that I studied for want of better, 
 because it was necessary that I should be always 
 learning something; the pleasant and delicate 
 rhymes that Berni wrote when he was not 
 restrained by the Romish purple; a Life of 
 Cromwell, and a medley of other productions^ 
 
 I must here remind the reader of the fact that\ 
 in mentioning casually the long list of books 
 that chance or circumstances had caused to 
 pass through my hands, I have as yet said 
 nothing of Rousseau. The fact is I read him 
 very late — and it was as well for me that I did 
 so, since I might have been so completely en- 
 grossed with him as to have read no other 
 author. Even as it is, he has but too much 
 strengthened what I may venture to term my 
 cardinal failing. 
 
 14 
 
2 I o Private Memoirs 
 
 I have reason to believe that my mother had 
 been solicitous to keep him out of my way ; for, 
 as his name was not unknown to me, I had 
 sought after his works, but, previously to her 
 death, had read only his "Letters from the 
 Mountain," and his " Letter to Christopher de 
 Beaumont; " whereas I had then read the whole 
 of Voltaire and Boulanger and the Marquis 
 d'Argens and Helvetius, besides many other 
 philosophers and critics. Probably my worthy 
 mother, who perceived the necessity of permit- 
 ting me to exercise my head, was not averse to 
 my studying philosophy even at the risk of a 
 little incredulity; but she doubtless felt that 
 my tender heart, already too impressible, needed 
 no master in the school of sensibility. What a 
 multitude of useless cares to avoid one's destin^ 
 The same idea influenced her, when she inter- 
 fered to prevent me from devoting myself to 
 painting; and had made her also oppose my 
 studying the harpsichord, though I had a most 
 excellent opportunity for doing so. We had 
 become acquainted in the neighborhood with 
 an Ahb6 Jeauket, a musical amateur, good- 
 natured, but frightfully ugly, and fond of the 
 pleasures of the table. He was born in the 
 
ROTJSSEATJ 
 
of Madame Roland 211 
 
 environs of Prague, had passed many years 
 at Vienna, and had given some lessons there 
 to Marie Antoinette. Led by circumstances to 
 Lisbon, he had at last settled at Paris, where 
 he lived in independence on the pensions that 
 composed his little fortune. He was extremely 
 desirous that my mother would permit him to 
 teach me the harpsichord. He contended that 
 with such fingers and such a head I must have 
 made a great performer, and that I ought not 
 to fail to apply m37self to composition. " What 
 a shame," he cried, " to be jingling a guitar, 
 when one might be composing and executing 
 the finest pieces on the greatest of instru- 
 ments ! " But with all his enthusiasm and his 
 repeated entreaties he could not overcome my 
 mother's opposition. For myself, always ready 
 to profit by an opportunity of instruction, but 
 accustomed nevertheless to bow to her de- 
 cisions, I did not press the matter. Besides, 
 study, in general, afforded me so vast a field of 
 occupation, that I never knew the lassitude of 
 idleness. I often said to myself: When I shall 
 be a mother in my turn it will then be my busi- 
 ness to make use of what I shall have acquired ; 
 I shall then have no leisure for further studies ; 
 
212 Private Memoirs 
 
 and I was the more earnest to employ my time, 
 fearful of losing a single moment. The Abb^ 
 Jeauket was now and then visited by persons 
 of some note, and whenever he invited them to 
 his house, he was anxious to include us in his 
 party. Thus, among others not worth remem- 
 bering, I became acquainted with the learned 
 Roussier, and the polite d'Odiment ; but I have 
 not forgotten the impertinent Paradelle and 
 Madame de Puisieux. This Paradelle was a 
 great scamp in the gown of an abbd, and the 
 greatest coxcomb and braggart I have ever met 
 with. He pretended to have ridden in his car- 
 riage at Lyons for twenty years ; and yet, that he 
 might not starve at Paris, he was obliged to give 
 lectures on the Italian language, of which he 
 was wholly ignorant. Madame de Puisieux, pos- 
 ing as the author of the work entitled " Carac- 
 teres," to which her name is prefixed, retained at 
 the age of sixty, with a hunch back and a tooth- 
 less mouth, the air and pretensions of which the 
 affectation is scarcely pardonable even in youth. 
 I had conceived that a literary woman must be 
 a very respectable character, especially when 
 morality was the subject of her writings. The 
 absurdities of Madame de Puisieux furnished 
 
of Madame Roland 213 
 
 me with a topic for reflection. Her conversa- 
 tion was as little indicative of talent as her 
 caprices were of sense. I began to perceive 
 it was possible to store up reason for a public 
 occasion, without making much use of it in 
 one's own affairs; and I thought that perhaps 
 the men who made a jest of female authors 
 were not otherwise to blame than in applying 
 exclusively to them what is equally true of 
 themselves. Thus in a round of life very cir- 
 cumscribed did I find means to accumulate 
 a fund of observations. I was placed in soli- 
 tude, it is true, but yet on the confines of a 
 world where I saw a variety of objects with- 
 out being encumbered by any. The concerts 
 of Madame Ldpine offered me a fresh point ot" 
 view. I have already said that Lupine was a 
 pupil of Pigale : he was, indeed, his right hand. 
 At Rome he had married a woman who, as 
 I presume, had been a cantatrice, and whom 
 his family had at first beheld with disfavor, 
 but who proved by the propriety of her con- 
 duct that their disdain was ill-founded. 
 
 She had formed at her house a company of 
 amateurs, skilled performers, to which none 
 were admitted but those whom she called good 
 
2 14 Private Memoirs 
 
 company. It met every Thursday, and my 
 mother often conducted me thither. It was here 
 I heard Jarnowich, St. George, Duport, Gudrin, 
 and many others. Here too I saw the wits of 
 both sexes : Mademoiselle Morville, Madame 
 Benolt, Sylvain Mar^chal, etc., together with 
 haughty baronesses, smart abb^s, old chevaliers, 
 and young fop's. What a pleasant magic lan- 
 tern ! The apartments of Madame Ldpine, rue 
 Neuve Saint Eustache, were not remarkably 
 fine, nor was the concert room spacious ; but it 
 opened into another apartment, of which the 
 folding-doors were kept open : there, placed in 
 the circle, you had the combined advantage of 
 hearing the music, seeing the authors, and con- 
 versing in the intervals. Seated close to my 
 mother, and maintaining the silence that custom 
 prescribes to young women, I was all eyes and 
 ears — unless we chanced for a moment to be in 
 private with Madame L6pine, when I put a few 
 questions to her, in order to illustrate to myself 
 by her answers such observations as I had made. 
 One day this lady proposed to my mother to 
 accompany her to a "charming" assembly, held 
 at the house of a man of wit, whom we had 
 sometimes seen at Madame Lupine's. There 
 
of Madame Roland 215 
 
 was to be a feast of reason, a flow of soul, a 
 reunion of the wits ; there were to be readings 
 " most deUghtful " — in short something " deli- 
 cious " was promised. The proposal, however, 
 was several times repeated before it was ac- 
 cepted. "Let us go," said I at last to my 
 mother, " I begin to know enough of the world 
 to presume that it must be either extremely 
 agreeable or very absurd ; and should the latter 
 be the case, we shall be sure to find for once 
 sufficient amusement in its novelty." The busi- 
 ness is settled ; and on the ■ following Wednes- 
 day, which was the day of M. Vise's literary 
 assemblies, we set off with Madame Lupine for 
 the barrUre of the Temple, where he resided. 
 We mount to the third story, and arrive at a 
 spacious room indifferently furnished, where 
 were placed rows of rush-bottomed chairs, al- 
 ready partly occupied ; dirty brass chandeliers, 
 with tallow candles, illumined this resort of the 
 Muses, the grotesque simplicity of which did 
 not belie what I had heard of the philosophical 
 rigor and poverty of an author. Some agree- 
 able women, young girls, old dowagers, with a 
 number of minor poets, virtuosos, and men of 
 intrigue, composed this brilliant circle. 
 
2i6 Priv^ate Memoirs 
 
 The master of ceremonies, seated before a 
 table which formed a desk, opened the stance 
 by reading a poetic effusion of his own, the 
 subject of which was a pretty little lap-dog that 
 the old Marchioness de Pr^ville always carried 
 in her muff, and which she now exhibited to 
 the company ; for she was present, and thought 
 herself obliged to gratify the auditors with a 
 sight of the hero of the piece. The bravos and 
 plaudits of the whole room paid homage to the 
 fancy of M. Vise, who, highly satisfied with 
 himself, was to have yielded his seat to M. Del- 
 peches, a poet who wrote little comic dramas 
 for the theatre of Audinot, upon which he was 
 accustomed to take the judgment of the society, 
 or, in other words, the encouragement of its ap- 
 plause ; but, either because of a sore throat, or 
 the want of some verses in several of his scenes, 
 or some other cause, he was prevented from 
 attending. Imbert, author of the "Judgment 
 of Paris," accordingly took the chair, and read 
 an agreeable trifle, which was also extolled to 
 the skies. A further distinction was in store 
 for him. Mademoiselle de la Cossonniere suc- 
 ceeded him with a " Farewell to Colin," which, 
 if not very ingenious, was at least meltingly 
 
of Madame Roland 217 
 
 tender. It was known that the Hnes were ad- 
 dressed to Imbert, who was about to undertake 
 a journey; and compliments fell upon him in 
 showers. Imbert acquitted his muse and him- 
 self by saluting all the females in the assembly. 
 This brisk and gay ceremony, conducted how- 
 ever with decorum, was not at all pleasing to 
 my mother, and appeared in so strange a light 
 to me as to give me an air of embarrassment. 
 After an epigram or couplet in which there was 
 nothing remarkable, a pompous declaimer re- 
 cited some verses in praise of Madame Benott, 
 who was present. Let me here say a word as to 
 this lady, for the sake of those who have not read 
 her romances, which were dead long before the 
 Revolution, and upon which thick dust will have 
 gathered long before these memoirs see the light. 
 Albine was born at Lyons, as I have read 
 in the "History of the Illustrious Women of 
 France by a Society of Men of Letters : " a 
 history, in which I have been astonished to find 
 the names of women (for instance, Madame 
 Puisieux, Madame Champion; Madame Benoit, 
 and others) that I met in company, and of 
 whom some are still alive, or have quitted only 
 within a few years their terrestrial abode. 
 
2 1 8 Private Memoirs 
 
 Married to the designer BenoJt, she had 
 accompanied him to Rome, and had there 
 been admitted into the Academy des Arcades. 
 Lately become a widow, and still in mourning 
 for her husband, she had settled at Paris, where 
 she made verses and novels, sometimes without 
 committing them to paper; addicted herself to 
 gaming, and visited women of quality, who paid 
 in presents of money or clothes for the pleasure 
 of having a female wit at their tables. 
 
 Madame Benoit had been handsome; the 
 cares of the toilet and the desire of pleasing, 
 prolonged beyond the age in which they are 
 sure of success, still procured her some con- 
 quests. Her eyes courted them with such ar- 
 dor, her bosom, always displayed, palpitated 
 so anxiously to obtain them, that it was cruel 
 not to grant to the frankness of the desire and 
 the facility of satisfying it, what men bestow in 
 general so readily, when not restricted to con- 
 stancy. Madame Benott's air of undisguised 
 voluptuousness was something perfectly new 
 to me. I had seen in the public walks those 
 priestesses of pleasure, whose indecency an- 
 nounced in the most offensive manner their pro- 
 fession; but here was a different shade of it. 
 
of Madame Roland 219 
 
 I was no less surprised at the poetical incense 
 lavished on this lady, and the epithets of the 
 "chaste" and "modest" BenoJt, so frequently 
 repeated in the verses, and which obliged her 
 sometimes to screen her eyes with her fan, 
 while some individuals of the other sex raptur- 
 ously applauded these encomiums, which they 
 doubtless conceived to be admirably applied. I 
 recalled to mind what my readings had taught 
 me on the subject of gallantry, and calculated 
 what corruption of heart must be added thereto 
 by the manners of the age and the disorders 
 of the court, and what vulgarity of taste. I saw 
 effeminate men bestowing their admiration on 
 flimsy verses and paltry talents, and devoting 
 themselves to the seduction of all women indis- 
 criminately, doubtless without loving any; for 
 whoever attaches himself to the happiness of a 
 chosen and beloved object is not ambitious of the 
 favors of the crowd. I felt the pang of disgust 
 and misanthropy in the midst of objects that 
 excited my imagination, and I returned to my 
 solitude filled with melancholy. We never re- 
 peated our visits to M. Vise ; one had been suffi- 
 cient to satiate me, and had it been otherwise, 
 the salute of Imbert and the panegyric of 
 
2 20 Private Memoirs 
 
 Madame Benott, would scarcely have induced 
 my mother to accompany me again. The musi- 
 cale of the Baron de Back, very pleasant in 
 general, but sometimes also a little tedious by 
 the pretensions of this melomaniac, did not see 
 us much oftener, notwithstanding the cards of 
 invitation that the politeness of Madame Ldpine 
 made her continually offer us. The same re- 
 serve was extended to that gathering known as 
 the amateurs' concert. We went there but once, 
 accompanied by a M. Boyard de Creusy, who 
 had amused himself in inventing a new method 
 for the guitar, of which he had begged permis- 
 sion from my mother to offer me a copy. He 
 was a man of extremely polished manners ; and 
 I mention him particularly because he has had 
 the good sense to believe that, in a situation still 
 regarded by the vulgar as elevated, I should see 
 with pleasure those with whom I had not been 
 unacquainted in my youth. He called on me 
 at the H6tel de I'lnt^rieur while Rolapd was in 
 the ministry; and my reception has assuredly 
 convinced him that I attached value and pleasure 
 to the remembrance of a time upon which I can 
 look back with honor, as I can indeed upon 
 every stage of my existence. 
 
of Madame Roland 221 
 
 As to public places of amusement, they were 
 still worse than these concerts; my mother 
 never attended them, and I was taken but once 
 during her life to the Opera, and once to the 
 Th6itre Frangais : I was then about sixteen or 
 seventeen. " The Union of Love and the Arts," 
 by Floquet, offered little in the music, and still 
 less in the drama, that was capable of causing 
 the smallest illusion, or of sustaining in any 
 degree the idea I had formed of an enchanting 
 spectacle. The coldness of the subject, the 
 incoherence of the scenes, the incongruity of 
 the ballets, displeased me; I was still more 
 offended by the dress of the dancers ; they had 
 not yet discarded hoops ; and nothing could be 
 more ludicrous than their appearance. Accord- 
 ingly I thought the critique of Piron on the 
 wonderful charms of the Opera to be an exag- 
 geration greatly beyond the truth. At the 
 ThMtre Francais I saw " L'ficossaise," which 
 was as little calculated to inspire me with en- 
 thusiasm for the drama; the performance of 
 Dumesnil alone delighted me. My father some- 
 times took me to the shows at the fairs, the 
 coarseness of which greatly disgusted me. I 
 thus became armed against every temptation to 
 
2 22 Private Memoirs 
 
 play the bel-esprit, precisely as the Spartan 
 children were against intoxication, by the sight 
 of its excess. My imagination felt none of the 
 emotions which the fascination of the theatre 
 might have caused, had I witnessed a represen- 
 tation of some of its best performances; and I 
 was content to peruse in my closet the works 
 of the great masters of the drama, and to 
 enjoy at leisure the contemplation of their 
 beauties. 
 
 A young man, a constant attendant at 
 Madame Lupine's concerts, had taken upon 
 himself occasionally to call at our house to 
 inquire for us, in the name of Madame Lupine, 
 when any absence longer than usual gave reason 
 to think that we had been indisposed. A polite 
 air, an agreeable vivacity, a smattering of wit, 
 and, above all, the rareness of his visits, excused 
 this little piece of finesse, ingeniously contrived 
 to procure admission to the house. At last 
 Lablancherie hazarded his declaration. — But 
 as I now come to the history of my suitors, it is 
 proper to make them file before the reader en 
 masse — an admirable expression, that may 
 serve as a date to my writing, and also recall 
 the glorious period when everything decreed 
 
of Madame Roland 223 
 
 was en masse, in spite of the greatest possible 
 subdivision of tastes and inclinations. 
 
 The reader cannot have forgotten the Spanish 
 Colossus, with hands like Esau's, that M. Mi- 
 gnard, whose politeness I have recorded, and 
 whose name contrasted so comically with his 
 figure. After confessing that he was capable 
 of teaching me nothing further on the guitar, he 
 had begged the liberty of coming sometimes to 
 hear me, and he called at distant intervals, but 
 without always finding us at home. Flattered 
 with the proficiency of his pupil, regarding it as 
 his own work, and proceeding from this prin- 
 ciple 'to attribute to himself a sort of right or 
 excuse for his pretensions, and having besides 
 given himself out for a nobleman of Malaga 
 whom misfortunes had reduced to the necessity 
 of having recourse to his musical talents, he 
 thought proper to fall in love with me. Absurd 
 excuses for his folly were not lacking, and, in 
 fine, he resolved to demand me in marriage, at 
 the same time not having the courage to make 
 his request in person. The remonstrances of 
 the friend whom he requested to undertake this 
 commission for him did not change his design, 
 and it was accordingly fulfilled. It was followed 
 
2 24 Private Memoirs 
 
 of course by a prohibition to enter our doors 
 again, accompanied with those civilities which 
 are due to the unfortunate. The jests of my 
 father informed me of what had passed ; he was 
 fond of detailing to me the applications made to 
 him on my account ; and as he was not a little 
 haughty, he did not spare the persons who thus 
 exposed themselves to his ridicule. 
 
 Poor Mozon was become a widower ; he had 
 got rid of the wen that embellished his left 
 cheek; and proposed setting up his cabriolet. 
 I was then fifteen, and he was engaged to com- 
 plete my dancing. His imagination kindled; 
 he was not deficient in a high opinion of his art, 
 and would have thought Marcel was very rea- 
 sonable in making proposals to me; artist for 
 artist, why should he not enter the Hsts? He 
 made known his wishes, and was dismissed like 
 Mignard. 
 
 From the moment a young female attains the 
 age that announces maturity, swarms of suitors 
 hover round her person, like bees about the 
 newly expanded flower. 
 
 Educated so austerely, and living so retired 
 a life, I could inspire but one design ; and the 
 respectable character of my mother, the appear- 
 
of Madame Roland 225 
 
 ance of some fortune, the circumstance of being 
 an only child, might of themselves render me an 
 object of attraction to a number of persons. 
 
 They presented themselves in crowds; but, 
 from the difficulty of obtaining a personal 
 introduction, they usually addressed themselves 
 in writing to my parents. My father brought 
 me all letters of this nature. Aside from what 
 was stated in them as to the rank and fortune 
 of the writers, the mode in which they were 
 expressed greatly influenced my opinion. I 
 undertook to make a rough draft of the answers, 
 which my father transcribed with exactness. I 
 made him dismiss my suitors with dignity, with- 
 out giving room for hope or resentment. The 
 youth of our quarter passed thus in review, 
 and in the majority of instances I had no diffi- 
 culty in persuading my parents to approve my 
 refusals. My father looked only to riches ; and 
 his pretensions for me were such that the suitor 
 who was but newly established, or whose in- 
 come was not such as to render him a " good 
 match," had no chance at all of his vote ; but, 
 when satisfied in these particulars, it gave him 
 pain that I would not consent to the match. 
 Here began those diffisrences between my father 
 IS 
 
2 26 Private Memoirs 
 
 and me which from this period were every day- 
 augmenting. He loved and esteemed trade, 
 because he regarded it as the source of riches; 
 I detested and despised it, because I considered 
 it as the spring of fraud and avarice. 
 
 My father felt that I could not accept a 
 shopkeeper, properly so called ; his vanity 
 would not suffer him to entertain the idea ; but 
 he could not conceive that the elegant jeweller, 
 who only fingers the rich trinkets from which 
 he derives immense profits, was beneath my 
 acceptance; especially, too, when he could 
 plead a business so well established as to 
 promise a rapid and splendid fortune. But the 
 spirit of this jeweller, as well as of the little 
 mercer whom he regards as below him, and of 
 the rich manufacturer who holds himself super- 
 ior to both, appeared to me absorbed alike by 
 the lust of gold and the calculations for amass- 
 ing it; pursuits totally foreign to the elevated 
 ideas, and the refined and delicate sentiments 
 by which I was accustomed to appreciate exist- 
 ence. 
 
 Occupied from my infancy in considering the 
 relations of man in society; nourished with the 
 purest morality; familiarized with the noblest 
 
of Madame Roland 227 
 
 examples; should I have lived with Plutarch 
 and all the philosophers, only to be yoked at 
 last to a tradesman, who would neither judge 
 nor feel in any circumstance of life like myself ? 
 As I have said, my discreet mother wished 
 th|it I should be as much at home in the kit- 
 chen as in the drawing-room, at the market 
 as on the promenade. After my return from 
 the convent I continued to accompany her 
 when she made her purchases for the house, 
 and at last she allowed me to make them my- 
 self, sending an old servant with me. The 
 butcher with whom we dealt had lost a second 
 wife, and found himself still young, with a 
 fortune of fifty thousand crowns, which he pro- 
 posed to augmelit. I knew nothing of these 
 particulars, and saw no more than that I was 
 well served, and with a profusion of civilities. 
 I was much surprised at seeing this slayer of 
 oxen frequently on Sundays, in the course 
 of our excursions, dressed in a handsome suit 
 of black, and with fine lace to his linen ; upon 
 which occasions he merely presented himself to 
 my mother, made her a very low bow and 
 passed on. This practice continued a whole 
 summer. I was taken sick; every morning 
 
2 28 Private Memoirs 
 
 the butcher sent to inquire if there was any- 
 thing he could do for us, and to offer every 
 accommodation in his power. This sufficiently 
 broad hint of his pretensions made my father 
 smile; and one day, when a Mademoiselle 
 Michon, a lady of a grave and devout turn, 
 came in all ceremony to demand me on the 
 part of the butcher, my father, vastly amused, 
 led her by the hand to my closet. "You 
 know, my dear Manon," said he to me, gravely, 
 " that I have made it a principle to put no 
 force upon your inclinations. It is proper, 
 however, that I should state to you a proposal 
 that has just been made to me in your be- 
 half" He then repeated what Mademoiselle 
 Michon had been saying to him. I bit my 
 lips, and was a little mortified that this frolic 
 of my father reduced me to the necessity of 
 an answer, which he ought to have taken upon 
 himself " You know, my dear papa," replied 
 I, mimicking his tone, " that I have made a firm 
 resolution not to quit my present situation, in 
 which I am so happy, for some years to come. 
 You will, therefore, act in this matter as you 
 see proper ; " and saying this I immediately 
 withdrew. 
 
of Madame Roland 229 
 
 "Upon my soul," said my father, the next 
 time he saw me, " the reason you gave to 
 Mademoiselle Michon is an excellent scheme 
 for keeping all the young men at a distance.'' 
 
 " Indeed, papa," said I, " I did no more than 
 repay your frolic, by an expression very becom- 
 ing in the mouth of a girl ; and I left it to you 
 to give a formal refusal ; a task which it would 
 have been wrong in me to take upon myself." 
 
 "Well, you are very well out of that affair. 
 But if our friend the butcher does not suit you, 
 tell me what sort of a man you must have." 
 
 " Indeed," said I, " if I am hard to please, it 
 is really due to yourself; you have accustomed 
 me to reflect, and suffered me to study. I know 
 not what sort of man I shall marry ; but it shall 
 never be one with whom I cannot converse, and 
 who is not able to think my thoughts, and share 
 my sentiments." 
 
 " There are men to be found in the mercan- 
 tile class who are both polite and intelligent." 
 
 " Yes ; but not according to my way of think- 
 ing; their politeness consists in a few phrases 
 and bows, and as to their knowledge it is con- 
 fined to their ledgers, and would afford but little 
 assistance in the education of my children." 
 
230 Private Memoirs 
 
 " But you would educate them yourself." 
 
 " The task would seem a hard one if it were 
 not shared by the man to whom they owed their 
 existence." 
 
 " Think you that the wife of Lempereur is not 
 happy ? They have lately retired from business, 
 and are now purchasiftg places, keeping an ex- 
 cellent table, and receiving the best company." 
 
 " I am no judge of the happiness of another, 
 and mine is not dependent on wealth; I con- 
 ceive that the strictest union of heiarts is requi- 
 site to conjugal felicity; nor can I connect 
 myself with a man who does not resemble me ; 
 it will even be necessaiy that he should be my 
 superior, for since both nature and the laws have 
 given the superiority to his sex, I should blush 
 for my husband if he did not truly possess it." 
 
 " You must have, then, some advocate, I sup- 
 pose ? But let me tell you, these sages of the 
 robe are not the men best calculated to pro- 
 mote the happiness of a woman. They have 
 too much pride and too little money." 
 
 " But, mon Dieu ! papa, I do not appraise men 
 by the color of their coats, nor have I said that 
 he must be of this profession or of that, but 
 a man that I can love." 
 
of Madame Roland 231 
 
 " Yet, if I undefstand you tight, you suppose 
 such a man is not to be found in the whole circle 
 of commerce? " 
 
 " I confess it appears to me difficult. I have 
 never yet seen in that class of life a man to my 
 liking ; besides, I dislike the occupation itself." 
 
 " Nevertheless, the lot of the merchant's wife, 
 who lives at ease in hef own rooms while her 
 husband carries on a thriving business in his 
 shop, is by no means a hard one. Witness 
 Madame d'Argens: she understands diamonds 
 as well as her husband does, bargains with the 
 courtiers in his absence, and would doubtless 
 carry on the business by herself, should she be 
 left a widow. Their fortune is already consid- 
 erable, and they have a share in the company 
 which has just made a purchase of Bagnolet. 
 You, Manon, have an excellent understanding, 
 and having read the treatise in my library upon 
 precious stones, must be particularly qualified 
 for such an occupation. Your judgment would 
 inspire confidence; you would do with your 
 customers whatever you pleased ; and could 
 you have fancied Delorme, Dabreuil, or Lobli- 
 geois, what an agreeable life you might have 
 led!" 
 
232 Private Memoirs 
 
 " Hold, my dear father : I have too often 
 observed that little success can be expected 
 from commerce, unless by selling dear what 
 has been bought cheap, by extortion on the 
 one hand, and robbing the poor artisan of his 
 due, on the other. Never will I give myself up 
 to such practices, and never shall I respect the 
 man who from morning to night can devote his 
 time to them. I should wish to be a good and 
 virtuous wife; but how should I remain true ^ to 
 a man who held no place in my esteem, admit- 
 ting the possibility of my marrying such a one? 
 To me it appears that selling diamonds and 
 selling pastry are very much the same thing, 
 except that the latter has a fixed price, re- 
 quires less deceit, but soils the fingers more. 
 I like neither the one nor the other." 
 
 " Do you suppose then that there are no 
 honest tradesmen?" 
 
 " I will not absolutely say that ; but I am per- 
 suaded the number is small; and let them be 
 ever so honest, they have not all that I require 
 in a husband." 
 
 " You require a good deal, I see ; but sup- 
 posing you do not find this idol of your 
 imagination?" 
 
of Madame Roland 233 
 
 " In that case I will die single." 
 
 " That may be a harder task than you imagine. 
 As to the other point, you will have time enough 
 to think of it. But remember, ennui will come 
 at last ; the crowd will have vanished ; and you 
 know the fable ! " 
 
 " Oh ! I will avenge myself of such an in- 
 justice by taking care to merit the happiness 
 from which I am excluded." 
 
 " Now are you again in the clouds ! Well, it 
 may be pleasant enough to soar to these heights, 
 but difficult, I fear, to remain there. Do not 
 forget besides that I should like to have grand- 
 children before I am too old." 
 
 " I should be perfectly willing to give them to 
 you," thought I, as my father put arf end to the 
 dialogue by withdrawing ; " but not by a hus- 
 band that my heart disapproves." I felt a tran- 
 sient cloud of melancholy while I considered the 
 character of my suitors, among whom there was 
 not one of a temper correspondent to my own ; 
 but this sensation soon subsided. I felt that I 
 was at present happy, and I shed the light of 
 a vague hope upon the future. It was, as it 
 were, the plenitude of an actual happiness, 
 overflowing its banks, and communicating its 
 
2 34 Private Memoirs 
 
 character to a period and situation that did not 
 yet exist. 
 
 "Shall I suit you this time, mademoiselle?" 
 said my father one day, with a feigned gravity, 
 and an air of satisfaction which was always ap- 
 parent when an application had been made to 
 him : — " Read that letter." 
 
 It was very well written as to the imagery and 
 style, and called more than one blush into my 
 cheeks. M. Morizot de Rozain certainly said an 
 abundance of pleasant things, but at the same 
 time did not forget to remark that his name 
 might be found in the peerage of his province. 
 I thought it absurd and indelicate in him to 
 make a parade of an advantage which he knew 
 me not to possess, and of which he had no 
 reason to suppose that I was ambitious. " Here 
 is still room for hesitation," said I, shaking my 
 head, "but we will hear what this personage 
 has to say for himself: a letter or two more will 
 give us the soundings of the shore. So let us pre- 
 pare an answer." Whenever writing was in ques^ 
 tion, my father was charmingly tractable, and 
 copied without reluctance whatever I put into 
 his hands. I amused myself with my assumed 
 position, discussed my interests with all the 
 
of Madame Roland 235 
 
 gravity of the occasion, and in a style suitable 
 to the parental character. We had no less than 
 three explanatory letters from M. de Rozain, 
 which I preserved for a long time because they 
 were extremely well written. They proved that 
 mere powers of mind were not with me a suffi- 
 cient qualification in a husband, unless there 
 were also superiority of judgment, and those in- 
 definable but palpable qualities of soul the lack 
 of which nothing can supply. JMoreover, M. 
 Rozain was an advocate in name only; my 
 present fortune was too small for two, nor were 
 his qualities such as to tempt me to overlook 
 that obstacle. 
 
 In proposing to marshal my suitors en masse, 
 it was not my intention to run through the 
 entire list; and from this I shall doubtless be 
 readily excused. My sole aim was to convey 
 the oddity of my situation, beset as I was by the 
 addresses of so many admirers whom I did not 
 know even by sight, and enjoying so complete a 
 freedom of deliberation and choice. I some- 
 times noted at church or on the promenade some 
 stranger curiously scrutinizing or following me ; 
 and then I would say to myself; " I shall soon 
 have a letter to write for papa." But I saw not 
 
236 Private Memoirs 
 
 once among them a figure that specially struck or 
 pleased me. 
 
 I have remarked that Lablancherie had had 
 the ingenuity to introduce himself to our house, 
 probably that he might reconnoitre the country 
 before advancing in force. Though still very 
 young, he had already travelled and read a 
 good deal, and had even published a book. 
 His work was of no great merit, but it con- 
 tained some good ideas and sound morality. He 
 called it an " Abstract of my Travels, for the 
 Instruction of Parents," a title certainly not 
 distinguished for modesty ; but, as he supported 
 himself upon the most respectable philosophical 
 authorities, quoted them happily, and inveighed 
 with an honest indignation, against that negli- 
 gence on the part of parents which is too fre- 
 quently the cause of the irregularities of youth, 
 he was in some measure to be excused. Lablan- 
 cherie, short, dark, and ordinary, did not fire 
 my imagination ; but his mind was by no means 
 displeasing to me, and I thought I could perceive 
 that my person was still less displeasing to him. 
 One evening, returning with my mother from 
 visiting some relations, we found my father in 
 a sort of revery. " I have news for you," said 
 
of Madame Roland 237 
 
 he to us, smiling. " Lablancherie, who has been 
 here for more than two hours, and is but this 
 moment gone, has made me his confidant; and 
 as what he has intrusted to me relates to you, 
 mademoiselle, in particular, I suppose you must 
 be made acquainted with it." (The consequence 
 was not strictly necessary, but it was customary 
 with my father to infer it). " He is in love, it 
 seems, and has offered himself; but, as he has 
 little or no property, I have endeavored to con- 
 vince him of the folly of the proposal. He is 
 of the long robe, and means to purchase an 
 office ; but as his own fortune is inadequate, he 
 proposes to supply the deficiency with the 
 dower of his wife ; and, as you are an only 
 child, he conceives that, for the first year or 
 two, we might all live together. He has said a 
 number of those fine things upon the subject 
 which readily suggest themselves to a youthful 
 imagination, and which it conceives to be un- 
 answerable; but parents who consult the wel- 
 fare of their children want something more 
 solid to determine them. Let him purchase a 
 place and establish himself first; there will be 
 time enough afterwards for marriage; but to 
 make marriage the preliminary would be plac- 
 
238 Private Memoirs 
 
 ing the cart before the horse. Besides we must 
 look a little into his character and connections ; 
 a business indeed that is soon despatched. I 
 had rather he were less of a gentleman, and that 
 he possessed instead an income of a few thou- 
 sand crowns; he is, however, a good sort of 
 young man. We talked a long time upon this 
 subject. My objections were grievous to him^ 
 but he heard me with patience, and begged that 
 at least I would not forbid him the house, to 
 which I consented, upon condition that his visits 
 should not be more frequent than usual. I 
 told him that I should say nothing to you, 
 Manon, of what has passed between us ; but as I 
 know your discretion, I do not like to keep any- 
 thing from you." 
 
 A few questions from my mother, and some 
 observations as to the wisdom of one's looking 
 before one leaps in these cases saved me the 
 embarrassment of a reply, but did not prevent 
 me from thinking the matter over for myself. 
 
 My father's logic was just, but at the same 
 time the proposals of the young man were not 
 unreasonable, and I felt disposed to see him and 
 to study his character with additional interest 
 and curiosity. Opportunities for doing this 
 
of Madame Roland 239 
 
 seldom occurred ; some months elapsed ; at last 
 Lablancherie departed for Orleans, and I saw 
 him no more till two years after. During the 
 interval I had nearly been married to Gardanne, 
 a physician, a match which one of our relations, 
 Madame Desportes, had strongly recommended. 
 This lady, born in Provence, had wedded a 
 tradesman at Paris, and being soon after left a 
 widow with one daughter, she had continued 
 that business of trading in diamonds which 
 my father found so agreeable. Wit, urbanity, 
 and an insinuating address, had raised her to 
 general estimation, and it appeared as if she 
 continued in business merely to oblige those 
 who dealt with her. Without going out <?f her 
 apartment, where she received a highly respect- 
 able circle of friends (who were largely her 
 clients as well), she preserved. her little fortune 
 and her ease without loss and without addition. 
 Advanced considerably in age, she was assisted 
 by her daughter, who, out of filial affection, had 
 rejected all suitors, preferring the intimate and 
 charming union in which she lived with her 
 mother. 
 
 Gardanne was a countryman of Madame 
 Desportes. Natural good sense, vivacity, learn- 
 
240 Private Memoirs 
 
 ing, and an extreme desire of success, gave 
 reason to hope that this young doctor would 
 rise to eminence in a career which he had 
 already begun under promising circumstances. 
 Madame Desportes, who received him with that 
 patronizing kindness suitable to her age and 
 character, and which she had the art of render- 
 ing amiable, conceived the project of making 
 him the husband of her niece. But, dying be- 
 fore it was ripe, she bequeathed to her daughter 
 the same zeal for its accomplishment. 
 
 Gardanne both wished and feared the con- 
 nection. In his calculation of the advantages 
 and inconveniences of the grand hymeneal part- 
 nership, he was not, like my romantic brain, 
 attached to the single idea of conformity of 
 character and sentiment ; he reckoned up every- 
 thing, pro and con. My portion would be only 
 twenty thousand livres; but the smallness of 
 this sum was compensated by expectations. 
 The pecuniary arrangements were made without 
 my knowing anything of the matter, and the 
 bargain was absolutely struck, when I was first 
 told, in general terms, of a physician who was 
 destined to be my husband. The profession 
 did not displease me; it promised an enhght- 
 
g 
 hi 
 
 
 B 
 
 H 
 R 
 
 B 
 «! 
 W 
 
 
of Madame Roland 241 
 
 ened mind ; but it was necessary I should know 
 the person. A walk to Luxembourg was con- 
 trived ; we were in danger of being overtaken 
 by a shower, or at least so it was pretended, 
 and we took refuge in the house of a Mademoi- 
 selle de la Barre, a great Jansenist, and a friend 
 of Madame Desportes. She was delighted at 
 the accident, and was offering us some refresh- 
 ment, when the physician, with his country- 
 woman, entered, under the pretext of paying 
 her a visit. 
 
 We examined each other narrowly, but with- 
 out any appearance of doing so on my part, 
 though I suffered nothing to escape me. My 
 cousin had an air of triumph, as much as to 
 say : " I did not describe her as handsome ; but 
 what do you think of her ? " My good mother 
 appeared tender and pensive : Mademoiselle de 
 la Barre was bountiful of her wit, and did the 
 honors of her sweetmeats and confectionery. 
 The physician chattered away, and made great 
 havoc among the sugar-plums, observing, with 
 a gallantry that smelled somewhat of the lamp, 
 that nothing pleased his palate so well as what 
 was sweet ; to which our hostess rejoined, with a 
 soft voice, a blush, and a smile, that it was said 
 16 
 
242 Private Memoirs 
 
 indeed men had a taste that way, she supposed, 
 because they stood in need of that treatment 
 which sweetness inspires. The gallant doctor 
 was delighted at the epigram. My father would 
 willingly have given his benediction on the 
 spot, and was so extremely polite that I was 
 absolutely angry with him. The doctor retired 
 first to pay his evening visits; my father, my 
 mothef and ftiyself returned precisely as we came. 
 And this is what is called an interview. Made- 
 moiselle Desportes, a stickler for punctilios, had 
 arranged all this, because, forsooth, a man who 
 has views of marriage ought not to enter the 
 house in which the lady resides till he has been 
 accepted ; which done, the contract is then to 
 be prepared, and the linion solemnized forthwith. 
 This was the law and the prophets. A physi- 
 cian, in the garb of his profession, is seldom 
 alluring in the eyes of a young woman, nor 
 could I indeed, at any period of life, conceive 
 of love in a periwig. Accordingly Gardanne 
 with his three-tailed peruke, his doctoral dig- 
 nity, his southern accent, and his black eye- 
 brows, appeared more likely to cure than to 
 impart a fever. This was the feeling that I 
 experienced, not a reflection that I made ; my 
 
of Madame Roland 243 
 
 ideas of marriage were too serious and austere, 
 to make it possible for me to find the smallest 
 circumstance at which to laugh in such a pro- 
 posal. " Well," said my mother to me, in a tone 
 of tender inquiry, " what think you of this man ? 
 Will he suit you?" 
 
 " My dear mamma, it is impossible as yet for 
 me to tell." 
 
 " But you can certainly tell if he has inspired 
 you with any dislike." 
 
 " Neither dislike nor inclination ; so that there 
 is still room for either of these sentiments." 
 
 " And what answer then is to be given, should 
 a proposal be made in form ? " 
 
 " Is the answer to be binding? " 
 
 " Assureidly, if we pass our word to a man of 
 honor, we must adhere to it." 
 
 " And what if he should afterwards displease 
 me?" 
 
 " A reasonable young woman, not swayed by 
 Caprice, having once weighed the motives that 
 determine her in so important a crisis, is in no 
 danger of changing her opinion." 
 
 " And must I really decide, then, upon this 
 single interview?" 
 
 " Not exactly that ; the intimacy of M. Gar- 
 
244 Private Memoirs 
 
 danne with our family makes it easy for us to 
 judge of his condition, his manners, and, with a 
 little inquiry, of his character. These are the 
 principal points in determining your choice ; the 
 seeing him is a mere matter of form necessary 
 to the adjustment of certain preliminaries.'' 
 
 " Ah ! my mamma, I am in no haste to be 
 married." 
 
 " I believe it, my child ; but we are anxious 
 to see you settled ; and you have now attained 
 the proper age. You have refused many offers 
 from tradesmen, and from your situation you 
 will probably be exposed to many more. It 
 appears to be your resolution never to accept 
 a husband from that class of life ; the present 
 offer is of a different kind, and, to all appear- 
 ances, quite unexceptionable ; be careful there- 
 fore that you do not lightly reject it." 
 
 " But surely, mamma, there can be no imme- 
 diate hurry; M. Gardanne himself is probably 
 not yet decided, for it is the first time he has 
 seen me." 
 
 " I acknowledge the force of your objection; 
 but if this be the only one it will, perhaps, 
 speedily be removed. I will not, therefore, re- 
 quire an instant answer. Reflect upon the 
 
of Madame Roland 245 
 
 matter; and two days hence let me know the 
 result." Saying this, my mother kissed me, and 
 withdrew. 
 
 Reason and nature so powerfully combine to 
 convince a discreet and modest young woman 
 that it is incumbent on her to marry, that there 
 is no room for deliberation but upon the choice 
 of her companion. Now, as to this particular 
 choice, the arguments of my mother were by 
 no means destitute of force. I considered, 
 moreover, whatever might be said to the con- 
 trary, that my provisional acceptance could 
 never be construed into an absolute engage- 
 ment; that it was absurd to. suppose, because 
 I had consented to see at the house of my 
 father a man proposed to me for a husband, that 
 I was therefore contracted; and I felt that, 
 should he fail to please me, no consideration 
 whatever ought to induce me to proceed further. 
 So without clinching the matter by a positive 
 refusal, I withheld my decision until time should 
 enable me to judge. 
 
 We were about setting out for the country, 
 where we had purposed to spend a fortnight. 
 To delay this journey in expectation of a suitor 
 I conceived to be indelicate, and my mother 
 
246 Private Memoirs 
 
 was of my opinion; but before we departed, 
 Mademoiselle de la Barre arrived one morning 
 ceremoniously dressed to demand me, as it is 
 called, on the part of the doctor. My parents 
 returned the polite generalities usual when one 
 accepts a proposal, with a proviso for later con- 
 sideration. Mademoiselle de la Barre claimed, 
 on the part of the suitor, permission to pay his 
 respects. It was granted. Mademoiselle Des- 
 portes, always methodical and accurate, con- 
 ceived that she was the person to bring forward 
 her prot6g6, and a family dinner, at which 
 Mademoiselle de la Barre and a female relation 
 were present, served as an occasion for introduc- 
 ing the gentleman into my father's house. The 
 next day we set out for the country, design- 
 ing to pass there the precise time necessary 
 for inquiries. The second interview was no 
 more impressive than the first; yet I saw in 
 Gardanne a man of intelligence with whom it 
 was possible for a thinking woman to take up 
 her abode ; and, inexperienced as I was, I 
 calculated that where it was possible to carry 
 on a rational conversation, there was a sufficient 
 prospect of happiness in marriage. 
 
 My mother fancied she saw in him indications 
 
of Madame Roland 247 
 
 of an imperious temper. For my part, I had 
 perceived no such traces. Habituated to study 
 and watch over myself, to govern my affections, 
 to regulate my imagination, imbued also with 
 the highest conception of the duties of a wife, 
 I could not conceive how a character a little 
 more or a little less indulgent could be inter- 
 esting to me or could exact from me more than 
 I should exact from myself. I reasoned as a 
 philosopher who calculates, or as a recluse igno- 
 rant of men and of the passions. I took my 
 own heart, tranquil, affectionate, generous, and 
 candid, for the common measure of the morality 
 of my species. I have long harbored this error. 
 It has been the true source of my delusions ; 
 and I am the more anxious to mention it, as it 
 is really the key to my conduct and career. I 
 carried with me into the country a sort of mel- 
 ancholy inquietude, different from that agitation 
 with which the beauties of nature usually in- 
 spired me, and that served to heighten its 
 charms. I found myself on the verge of a new 
 existence ; I was about to quit, perhaps, my 
 excellent mother, my beloved studies, my priv- 
 acy, in fine my independence, for a state which 
 I could not well define, and which would impose 
 
248 Private Memoirs 
 
 on me the gravest obligations. I thought it 
 glorious to have them to discharge, and con- 
 ceived myself formed to undertake them. But 
 the prospect was not clear to my view : I expe- 
 rienced both the desire and the fear of uncer- 
 tainty. Mademoiselle Desportes had made me 
 promise to write to her ; I redeemed my promise ; 
 but, after the lapse of a fortnight, I discovered 
 that she was much mortified. My father, who 
 was in the habit of taking everything literally, 
 would have thought that he failed in the duty 
 of a parent' and in a proper concern for his 
 daughter if he had not made all the customary 
 inquiries. Gardanne had been introduced to us 
 by one of our relations, who had known him from 
 his cradle, and was acquainted with his family. 
 All possible information had been afforded, but 
 that was of no consequence ; my father wrote, 
 at the outset of the negotiations, to three or 
 four persons in Provence for the fullest particu- 
 lars respecting M. Gardanne's family and history. 
 Nor did he stop even here ; he employed in- 
 direct means of learning from servants and 
 ti'adesmen the temper and economy of his future 
 son-in-law. Finally he went to visit him ; and, 
 with a tact equal to that which he had dis- 
 
of Madame Roland 249 
 
 played in his inquiries, he pretended to know 
 all. He cited to him as a man whom he ought 
 to esteem, a countryman with whom he had 
 quarrelled, and concluded his remarks with cer- 
 tain premature counsels delivered in the accents 
 and tone of a father. Thus Gardanne received, 
 at one and the same time, letters from the coun- 
 try in which he was twitted upon the minute 
 inquiries that had been made about him, news 
 of the inquisition that had been carried on at 
 his home, and, finally, a pedagogical homily 
 from his intended father-in-law. Piqued and 
 irritated, he repairs to the house of Mademoi- 
 selle Desportes, complains, with the vivacity of 
 a Southron, of the strange conduct of a man, 
 whose daughter, though extremely pleasing, has 
 the misfortune to have so singular a father. 
 Mademoiselle Desportes, no less proud and 
 fiery, resents on her part his being so little in 
 love with her cousin as to lay stress on these 
 trifles, and does not attempt to disguise her 
 resentment. All these circumstances came to 
 my knowledge at once, and I embraced with 
 eagerness the occasion to put an end to all 
 doubt, and declare my resolution never to receive 
 M. Gardanne on the footing of a lover. Thus 
 
250 Private Memoirs 
 
 ended a negotiation, conducted with such haste 
 that Gardanne expected the solemnity to take 
 place within a fortnight after my return. I was 
 relieved at escaping a danger that menaced me 
 so nearly ; my mother, terrified at the impetu- 
 osity of the doctor, was satisfied to be thus 
 delivered from her fears ; my father endeavored 
 to hide his chagrin under the veil of a lordly 
 dignity; while as to my cousin, she asserted 
 hers by forbidding the doctor to enter her house 
 again. Mademoiselle de la Barre told her, five 
 years after, that this marriage was written in 
 heaven ; that poor Gardanne was determined to 
 contract no other; and that Providence, the 
 ways of which are inscrutable, was secretly 
 preparing the way for this desirable union. 
 How sagacious a prophecy ! Of almost as much 
 effect and fidelity as the famous note of Ninon 
 de I'Enclos to the Marquis de la Chitre. 
 
 My mother's health began insensibly to de- 
 cline. She had experienced an attack of the 
 palsy, which she described to me under the 
 milder name of rheumatism, for she desired to 
 spare me the anxiety I should have felt had 
 I known the truth. Naturally serious and 
 taciturn, she became every day more so; she 
 
of Madame Roland 251 
 
 grew fond of solitude, and would frequently 
 send me to walk with a favorite servant, un- 
 willing herself to quit her apartment. She often 
 talked of my settling in life, and lamented that I 
 had not been able to choose a husband. One 
 day in particular, she urged me,, with a melan- 
 choly earnestness, to accept a young jeweller 
 who had made proposals in form. " He has in 
 his favor," said she, " a great reputation for 
 integrity, regular habits, and an easy fortune, 
 which may become a briUiant one; and this 
 last circumstance counts for much in a case 
 where the man himself, it must be owned, is 
 somewhat commonplace. He is acquainted 
 with your singular way of thinking, professes 
 high esteem for you, will be proud to follow 
 your counsels, and has declared that he has 
 no objection to his wife becoming the nurse 
 of his children. You will have him in leading- 
 strings." 
 
 " But I do not like a husband that must be 
 led, he would be too unwieldy a child." 
 
 " You are certainly a singular girl ! You will 
 not rule, yet you will not have a master." 
 
 " Let us understand each other, dear mamma. 
 I would not at all wish a man to dictate to me, 
 
252 Private Memoirs 
 
 for he would only provoke me to resist; nor 
 should I wish to dictate to my husband. Either 
 I am very much mistaken, or these lords of 
 creation six feet high with beards on their 
 chins seldom fail to feel that they are the 
 stronger sex ; now the good man who should 
 think proper to keep me in mind of this supe- 
 riority would certainly provoke me; and I 
 should blush for him, on the contrary, if he 
 allowed me to rule." 
 
 " I understand. You prefer a man who, while 
 obeying you, should fancy he was having his 
 own way." 
 
 " No, not that exactly. I dislike to submit, 
 but I do not find myself made to rule ; it would 
 be a burden to me; my reason finds enough 
 to do in governing myself. I would gain the 
 affections of an individual worthy my esteem; 
 one, with whose will a compliance would be 
 no disgrace to me, and who would not find 
 his happiness lessened by complying with 
 mine, as far at least as reason and affection 
 might authorize." 
 
 " Happiness, my child, is not so often com- 
 posed of this perfection of relations and con- 
 geniality as you may imagine : if it depended 
 
of Madame Roland 253 
 
 upon nothing else, there would little of it be 
 found in most of our matches." 
 
 " Then I know of none that I should envy." 
 
 " Perhaps so ; still, among these marriages 
 that you despise, there may be many preferable 
 to remaining single. I may be called out of the 
 world sooner than you imagine ; you would re- 
 main with your father; he is still young, and 
 you know not the chagrins to which my ten- 
 derness leads me to fear you may be exposed. 
 Could I see you united, before I die, to a worthy 
 man, how tranquil would it render the last mo- 
 ments of my existence ! " 
 
 These words of my mother overwhelmed me 
 with grief; she seemed to lift a veil from a 
 sombre and terrifying future which I had not 
 so much as suspected. I had never thought of 
 losing her ; and the mere idea of this calamity, 
 which she spoke of as approaching, filled me 
 with terror; a cold shivering crept over the 
 whole surface of my frame ; I fixed on her my 
 wild and eager eyes, from which a faint smile 
 on her part drew forth a torrent of tears. 
 
 "Why, my dear child, are you so alarmed? 
 Must we not in our calculations weigh possi- 
 bilities? I am not ill, though at a period of 
 
2 54 Private Memoirs 
 
 life subject to swift and fatal changes; but it 
 is in health that we must provide ourselves with 
 consolations for the time of sickness, and the 
 present occasion furnishes me with an oppor- 
 tunity of doing so. A worthy man offers you 
 his hand; you are past twenty, and must no 
 longer expect the crowd of suitors by which, 
 during the last five years, you have been sur- 
 rounded. I may be snatched away from you. 
 Do not reject a husband — who has not, it is 
 true, the delicacy to which you affix such value 
 (a quality very rare even among those who pre- 
 tend to it), but who will love and cherish you 
 and with whom you may be happy." 
 
 " Yes, my dear mamma," I exclaimed with a 
 deep sigh, " as happy as you have been ! " 
 
 My mother was agitated, and made no reply, 
 and never from that moment importuned me 
 upon the subject of this or any other marriage. 
 The word had escaped me, like the expression 
 of a strong and sudden feeling upon which we 
 have not taken time to reflect, and the effect it 
 produced convinced me too fully of its truth. 
 
 A stranger might have perceived at the first 
 glance the disparity that existed between my 
 father and mother ; but who could feel like me 
 
of Madame Roland 255 
 
 all the excellence of the latter? Meanwhile, 
 I had little calculated what she might suffer. 
 Accustomed from my infancy to see the pro- 
 foundest peace reign in the house, I was not a 
 judge of what it cost her to maintain it. My 
 father loved us both tenderly. A look of re- 
 proach I will not say, but an air of discontent 
 had never clouded the face of my mother: 
 whenever her opinion was not that of her hus- 
 band, and she had been unable to convince 
 him, she appeared to relinquish her own view 
 without the smallest scruple. It was only 
 within a few years, that, provoked at times by 
 the arguments of my father, I had occasionally 
 mingled in their disputes. Gaining, however, 
 some degree of influence, I soon began to use 
 it with freedom. Whether it was from novelty 
 or from weakness, my father yielded to me 
 more readily than to his wife ; and I always 
 exerted myself as her champion. I became, 
 so to speak, the watch-dog of my mother. I 
 would not suffer her to be vexed in my pres- 
 ence, and was sure upon these occasions, either 
 by assumed or real anger, always to make the 
 assailant let go his hold. What is still more 
 extraordinary is, that, reserved as my mother 
 
256 Private Memoirs 
 
 herself upon this subject, not a word escaped 
 me in private inconsistent with the respect due 
 to the paternal character. I used in her de- 
 fence the force and authority of reason, when 
 address was insufficient; but afterwards, when 
 alone with her, my lips were sealed as to what 
 had passed. For her sake I could combat even 
 against her husband ; but this husband, when 
 absent, became my father, of whom neither of 
 us ever spoke but in commendation. Mean- 
 while I perceived that my father had gradually 
 lost his habits of industry. The affairs of his 
 parish having first diverted him, obliged him 
 afterwards to be still more frequently from 
 home. Insensibly dissipation mastered him; 
 every spectacle or event drew him from his 
 business ; he acquired a taste for play ; the 
 connections formed at the tavern led him else- 
 where, and the lottery lent the aid of its se- 
 ductions. In haste to amass a fortune, he had 
 engaged in outside speculations, which had 
 not always been prosperous. This desire hav- 
 ing at length little else to feed upon, degen- 
 erated into a rage for gaming. Ceasing to 
 exercise his graver with the same attention as 
 before, his skill diminished; observing a less 
 
of Madame Roland 257 
 
 regular life, his faculties were impaired, his eye 
 and hand lost their steadiness and certainty. 
 His young workmen, neglected by the master, 
 slackened in their industry and failed in their 
 execution ; it was soon necessary to decrease 
 their number, his reputation and custom of 
 course diminishing. These changes were grad- 
 ual, and their effect was considerable before 
 it was fully perceived. My mother, extremely 
 thoughtful, began to hint to me her uneasiness, 
 which I was cautious not to nourish by dwell- 
 ing on what we could neither of us hope to 
 remedy. I did what I could to console her; 
 she was grown averse to walking, and I sub- 
 mitted to the sacrifice of leaving her sometimes 
 for the sake of going out with my father, whom 
 I requested to take a walk with me, hoping 
 thereby to divert him from less innocent pur- 
 suits. He no longer sought my company, but 
 he was still pleased to attend me, and I led him 
 back with a sort of triumph to that excellent 
 mother, of whose tender heart I saw all the glad 
 emotions at our reunion. But this little strata- 
 gem was not always successful ; in order not to 
 refuse his daughter, nor at the same time be 
 disappointed of his own pleasures, when my 
 17 
 
258 Private Memoirs 
 
 father had brought me home, he would go out 
 again, only, as he said, for an instant; but in- 
 stead of returning to supper, he forgot the 
 hour, and stayed till midnight. We had wept 
 his absence in silence; and if I happened, at 
 his return to tell him of our anxiety, he treated 
 it lightly, parrying my gentle reproaches with 
 raillery, or else retired with an air of discon- 
 tent. Our domestic happiness was obscured 
 and darkened by these clouds, but the harmony 
 and quiet of the family remained unaltered, and 
 the eyes of a stranger would scarcely have per- 
 ceived the changes that were daily taking place. 
 My mother had suffered considerably for the 
 space of more than a year from a malady of 
 which her physicians had been totally unable to 
 ascertain the cause. After employing to no 
 purpose a variety of remedies, they at length 
 advised exercise, for which she had no inclina- 
 tion, and the air of the country. This was upon 
 the eve of Whitsuntide, 1773, and it was deter- 
 mined that we should pass our holidays at 
 Meudon. On Sunday morning I did not wake 
 in my customary spirits when these excursions 
 into the country were in view. I had rested 
 poorly, for my slumbers had been haunted by 
 
of Madame Roland 259 
 
 the gloomiest dreams : we were returning (as it 
 had seemed to me) to Paris by water, having 
 been driven back by a storm, when, as we were 
 stepping to the shore, a corpse that had been 
 carried from the boat, blocked our path. 
 Chilled with terror at the sight, I was about 
 fearfully to examine the ghastly object — when 
 my mother, lightly laying her hand upon my 
 bed and calling me with her soft voice, put an 
 end to my dream. I was rejoiced to see her, as 
 if she had escaped some imminent danger; I 
 stretched out my arms, and embraced her with 
 emotion, expressing the pleasure she gave me 
 by awaking me. I sprang out of bed, every- 
 thing was soon ready, and we set off. The 
 weather was fine, the air calm, a little boat con- 
 veyed us to the place of our destination, and 
 the delights of the country speedily restored 
 my serenity. My mother was better for the 
 journey ; she resumed a portion of her activity ; 
 for the second time we discovered Ville-Bonne, 
 and its honest inmates. I had promised to visit 
 my Agathe on the Wednesday of the holidays ; 
 we accordingly returned on the evening of 
 Tuesday. My mother had meant to accom- 
 pany me; but, fatigued with the exertion of 
 15 
 
2 6o Private Memoirs 
 
 the preceding days, she changed her mind at the 
 moment of my departure, and sent me with 
 the servant. I would willingly have remained 
 with her ; but she insisted on my keeping my 
 engagement, adding that it was no punishment 
 to her to be alone, and that if I wished to take 
 a turn in the public gardens, I might indulge 
 myself. 
 
 Scarcely had I seen Agathe, when I was anx- 
 ious to return. " Why are you in such haste," 
 said she ; " does any one expect you? " 
 
 " No ; but something urges me to return to 
 my mother." 
 
 " You have told me that you left her well? " 
 
 " That is true, nor does she expect me ; I 
 know not what it is that torments me, but I am 
 anxious to be with her." 
 
 As I spoke, my heart swelled painfully, in 
 spite of my efforts to control it. 
 
 Some persons will perhaps suppose that all 
 these circumstances are the result of a mood 
 that sheds its own hues upon the present and 
 upon the immediate past. This, however, I am 
 assured, is not the case. I am a faithful his- 
 torian, and relate facts which, had it not been 
 for the event, I should doubtless have forgotten. 
 
of Madame Roland 261 
 
 Certainly it may be judged, from what has 
 already been said of my opinions, and espe- 
 cially of the successive stages of my intellectual 
 growth, that I was as little superstitious at that 
 time as I am now credulous and orthodox. 
 While I meditated in the sequel upon what could 
 be the cause of what people call presentiments, 
 I have imagined that it consists in that rapid 
 survey which persons of a lively intelligence 
 and strong feeling make of a crowd of evanes- 
 cent circumstances, impossible to enumerate, 
 which are rather felt than recognized, which 
 give a tinge to the mind that the reason cannot 
 justify, but that events ultimately appear to 
 confirm. 
 
 The more lively the interest that we take in 
 an object and the greater the concern we feel 
 in everything that relates to it, the more we 
 shall have of those physical perceptions, if I 
 may be allowed the expression, which are 
 afterwards styled presentiments, and which the 
 ancients regarded as omens or suggestions from 
 the gods. 
 
 My mother was an object to me of the ten- 
 derest regard : she approached her end without 
 its being announced to common observers by 
 
262 Private Memoirs 
 
 any exterior circumstances, and I had myself 
 seen nothing that positively menaced it; yet I 
 was doubtless sensible to slight and indistinct 
 changes that affected me as it were uncon- 
 sciously. I could not have said I was unhappy, 
 because I could have assigned no reason ; but 
 I felt a haunting anxiety, my heart sank when I 
 looked at her, and in her absence I experienced 
 an uneasiness, that would not suffer me to 
 continue out of her sight. I quitted Agathe 
 with so unusual an air, that she begged me to 
 let her hear from me immediately. I returned 
 precipitately, without attending to the remark 
 of my nurse that the weather was extremely 
 favorable for a walk, in the gardens. I ap- 
 proach the house, and find at our door a young 
 girl of the neighborhood, who on seeing me 
 exclaims : — " Ah ! mademoiselle, your mamma 
 is taken ill; she has just sent to my mother, 
 who is now with her in her chamber." Struck 
 with affright, I utter some inarticulate sounds; 
 I rush upstairs, and find my mother sunk in an 
 armchair, her head reclined, her eyes wild, her 
 mouth open, her arms pendent. At sight of 
 me her countenance lights up ; she attempts to 
 speak; but her tongue utters painfully only a 
 
of Madame Roland 263 
 
 few broken words : she wished to say how im- 
 patiently she had expected me. She attempts 
 to raise her arms ; one only obeys the impulse 
 of her will. She lifts her hand to my face, wipes 
 away the tears that bedew it with her fingers, 
 passes them gently over my cheeks as if to 
 compose me. The wish to smile faintly appears 
 in her languid features ; she again endeavors to 
 speak. Vain efforts ! The palsy chains her 
 tongue, weighs down her head, and deadens 
 half her body. Spirits of balm, salt put into 
 the mouth, and friction, produce no effect. In 
 an instant I had despatched messengers after 
 my father, and the physician ; I had flown my- 
 self for two grains of emetic to the nearest 
 apothecary's. The physician arrives, my mother 
 is put to bed; the remedies are administered, 
 and the disorder proceeds with a dreadful 
 rapidity. The eyes are closed ; the head, sunk 
 on the chest, can no longer raise itself; a strong 
 and quick respiration indicates the universal 
 oppression. Yet she heard what was said, and, 
 when asked if she felt much pain, pointed out 
 the seat of her sufferings by pressing her left 
 hand upon her forehead. I was inexpressibly 
 active; I ordered everything, and had always 
 
264 Private Memoirs 
 
 done it myself before any other person could 
 execute it ; I prepared whatever was necessary, 
 yet appeared never to quit the bed. About 
 ten o'clock in the evening I observe the physi- 
 cian call aside my father and some women who 
 are in the apartment ; I wish to know what he 
 has proposed ; they inform me that he recom- 
 mends the administration of the extreme unc- 
 tion. I seem in a dream ; the priest arrives ; he 
 prays, and does I know not what. I hold a light 
 mechanically; I stand at the foot of the bed 
 without answering or yielding to those who 
 would remove me, my eyes fixed on my adored 
 and dying mother, absorbed in a single feeling 
 which suspends all my faculties. The light slips 
 from my hand, and I fall senseless on the floor. 
 They raise me : after some time I recover my 
 consciousness, and find myself in the room 
 adjoining the death-chamber, surrounded by 
 the members of the family. I look toward the 
 door, I attempt to advance ; they restrain me ; I 
 make suppliant gestures to obtain permission to 
 return. A mournful silence, and a dumb but 
 constant opposition, is the only reply. I regain 
 my strength ; I pray,- 1 conjure them, to let me 
 pass ; they are inexorable : I burst into a rage. 
 
of Madame Roland 265 
 
 At that instant my father enters, pale and 
 speechless ; an air of fearful inquiry appears 
 in every countenance, to which he replies by a 
 silent movement of his eyes, that calls forth a 
 general groan. I escape from the petrified 
 hands of those about me ; I rush impetuously 
 forth. My mother ! — she was no more ! I 
 lift up her arms ; I cannot believe it. I open 
 and close alternately the eyes that will never 
 see me again, and that were wont to look upon 
 me with so endearing a tenderness ; I call her ; 
 I throw myself with passion on her loved form ; 
 I join my lips to hers, and try to reanimate 
 them with my breath; I would transfuse into 
 them my soul, and expire on the instant. I 
 know not what ensued; I only remember that 
 I found myself in the morning at the house of 
 a neighbor, with M. Besnard, who then conveyed 
 me in a carriage to his own house. I arrive ; my 
 aunt embraces me in silence, sets me before a 
 small table, and offers me something to drink, 
 entreating me earnestly to take it. I endeavor 
 to comply, and fall into a swoon. They put me 
 in bed, where I pass a fortnight between life and 
 death in frightful convulsions. The sensation, 
 I remember, was that of constant suffocation; 
 
2 66 Private Memoirs 
 
 my respiration, as I have been told, was heard 
 even from the street. I suffered a relapse, which 
 rendered my situation still more critical, and 
 from which I was saved only by the strength of 
 my constitution and the attentions that were 
 lavished on me. My good relatives had taken 
 up with inconvenient lodgings for my better 
 accommodation; they seemed to have gained 
 new strength in order to recall me to life ; they 
 insisted upon nursing me themselves, and would 
 allow no one to share their kind offices, except 
 my cousin, Madame Trude, nh Robineau, a 
 young woman, who came every evening to spend 
 the night with me, lying in the same bed, and 
 ever vigilant to foresee and relieve the parox- 
 ysms with which I was continually seized. 
 
 Eight days were elapsed, and my grief had 
 been unaccompanied with a tear : great sorrows 
 have not so easy an issue. (I shed them, how- 
 ever, at this moment, bitter and burning; for 
 I fear an evil still greater than what I then 
 suffered. I have expended all my wishes for 
 the safety of those I love ; it is now more un- 
 certain than ever ! Calamities, like a dark and 
 threatening cloud, envelop what is most dear 
 to me; and I labor, with difficulty and pain, 
 
of Madame Roland 267 
 
 to distract my attention from the present by 
 reflecting on the past.) 
 
 An epistle from Sophie came to reopen the 
 source of my tears ; the tender voice and 
 soothing expressions of friendship recalled my 
 faculties, and spoke consolation to my heart. 
 They produced an effect that medicines and 
 physicians had solicited in vain : a new revo- 
 lution took place ; I wept, and was saved. The 
 suffocation diminished ; the dangerous symptoms 
 abated, and the convulsions became less fre- 
 quent; yet every painful impression renewed 
 them. 
 
 My father presented himself to me in the 
 sad apparel that testified our loss, which, though 
 common to us both, I found was unequally 
 felt and deplored. He endeavored to console 
 me by representing that Providence disposed 
 everything for the best, even in our calamities ; 
 that my mother had fulfilled the task assigned 
 her in this world, in the education of her child ; 
 and that, since heaven had decreed I was to 
 lose one of my parents, it was better that the 
 one should remain who could be most useful 
 to my fortune. 
 
 Assuredly my loss was irreparable, even in 
 
2 68 Private Memoirs 
 
 this respect, as experience has but too well 
 proved; but I did not then make this reflec- 
 tion ; I felt only the barrenness of the intended 
 consolation, so little adapted to my manner of 
 thinking and feeling. I measured for the first 
 time the gulf between my father and me; he 
 seemed himself to tear away the reverential veil 
 under which I had hitherto considered him. I 
 found myself a complete orphan, since my 
 mother was gone, and my father could never 
 understand me: a new source of grief burst 
 upon my already overburdened heart; I fell 
 into the deepest despair. The tears, however, 
 of my cousin, and the sorrow of my worthy 
 relatives, still offered me subjects of tender 
 emotion. Their influence prevailed, and I was 
 snatched from the dangers that menaced my 
 days. Alas, why did they not then terminate ? 
 It was my first affliction : by how many others 
 has it been succeeded ! 
 
 Here concludes the serene and shining epoch 
 of those tranquil years, passed in the enjoy- 
 ment of delightful sentiments and peaceful 
 studies, and resembling the lovely mornings of 
 spring, when the serenity of an unclouded sky, 
 the purity of the air, the verdure of the foliage, 
 
of Madame Roland 269 
 
 and the perfume of the plants, enchant all 
 who taste the mingled delights, unfold the 
 heart and fancy, and impart present felicity by 
 their promises of a riper and more blissful 
 season. 
 
270 Private Memoirs 
 
 III. 
 
 September 10, 1793. 
 
 MY mother was only fifty years of age 
 when she was so cruelly taken from 
 me; an abscess in her head, formed in an 
 unaccountable manner, and, only discovered by 
 the flux that took place after her death through 
 the nose and ears, explains the unusual stop- 
 page with which she had been so long affected. 
 The second shock of the palsy, in all probability, 
 would not have proved mortal but for this affec- 
 tion. Her face, still fresh and youthful, showed 
 no sign of approaching death ; and her ailments 
 appeared to be those of an age which women 
 rarely pass without experiencing a considerable 
 alteration. The melancholy, and even despond- 
 ency, which I had discovered some time before, 
 were due to moral causes but too apparent to 
 me. 
 
 Our last excursions into the country seemed 
 to have reanimated her : the very day she was 
 
of Madame Roland 271 
 
 snatched from me I left her apparently well at 
 three o'clock in the afternoon; I returned at 
 half-past five to find her palsied; at midnight 
 she was no more. Frail toys of a pitiless 
 destiny ! Why are sentiments so keen and pro- 
 jects so imposing linked with so fragile an 
 existence ? 
 
 Thus was taken from the world one of the 
 gentlest, most lovable beings that ever graced 
 it. Her qualities were not brilliant, but they 
 were such as won and retained the love of all 
 who knew her. Naturally pure and just, her vir- 
 tues were the fruit of iiripulse, not effort. Pru- 
 dent and self-poised, tender without passion, her 
 tranquil spirit lived its days as flows some quiet 
 stream that laves with equal complaisance the 
 rock that holds it captive and the valley it em- 
 bellishes. Her sudden loss plunged me in the 
 profoundest grief. 
 
 "It is charming to possess sensibility, but 
 it is unfortunate to have so much of it," said 
 the Abb6 Legrand, who came to see me at 
 the house of my relatives. When I began 
 to recover, the latter were eager to invite or to 
 receive people with whom I was acquainted, in 
 order to familiarize me gradually with the life 
 
272 Private Memoirs 
 
 outside. I seemed scarcely to exist in the 
 actual world. Absorbed in grief, I paid little 
 attention to what was passing, speaking but 
 seldom, and then mostly in reply to my own 
 thoughts. At times the cherished image of 
 her I could not forget, the poignant sense of 
 her loss, would arise so vividly in my mind that 
 I would shriek aloud, my outstretched arms 
 would grow rigid, and I would fall fainting to 
 the floor. Although incapable of application, 
 I had however calmer intervals, during which I 
 recollected the sorrow of my relations, their 
 kindness, and the affectionate care of mycousin, 
 and endeavored to diminish their anxiety. The 
 Abb6 Legrand possessed sagacity enough to 
 discern that it was necessary to talk to me a 
 great deal of my mother, in order to render me 
 capable of thinking of anything else. He con- 
 versed with me about her, and led me insensibly 
 to reflections and ideas which, without being 
 foreign to the subject, banished the habitual 
 recollection of her loss. As soon as he believed 
 me sufficiently recovered to look at a book, he 
 resolved to bring me the " H61oIse " of Jean- 
 Jacques Rousseau ; the perusal of which was in 
 truth my first employment. I was then twenty- 
 
MADAIWCE ROIiAND 
 
 FROM XH£: rAIXTING BY HEilMSlCS 
 
of Madame Roland 273 
 
 one years of age ; /I had read a great deal ; I 
 was acquainted with a considerable number of 
 writers, historians, learned men, and philoso- 
 phers; but Rousseau made an impression on 
 me similar to that which Plutarch had done 
 when I was eight years old. It appeared that 
 this was the proper food for my mind, and the 
 interpreter of those ideas which I entertained 
 before, but which he alone knew how to explain 
 to me. 
 
 Plutarch had prepared me to become a repub- 
 lican ; he roused that strength and stateliness of 
 character which constitute one ; he inspired me 
 with a real enthusiasm in favor of public virtues 
 and liberty. Rousseau pointed out to me the 
 domestic happiness to which I could aspire, and 
 the ineffable enjoyments which I was capable of 
 tasting. Ah ! if he is able to protect me against 
 what are termed foibles, could he forearm me 
 against a passion ? Amidst the corrupt age in 
 which I was doomed to live and the Revolution 
 which I was then far from anticipating, I ac- 
 quired beforehand all that could render me 
 capable of great sacrifices and expose me to 
 great misfortunesT^ Death will only be to me 
 the term of both. I expect it, and I would not 
 18 
 
2 74 Private Memoirs 
 
 have dreamed of filling the short interval which 
 separates us with the recital of my private his- 
 tory, if calumny had not dragged me on the 
 stage, on purpose to make a more cruel attack 
 upon those whom she would ruin. I love to 
 publish truths that interest not myself alone; 
 and I wish not to conceal one, that their coher- 
 ence may serve toward their demonstration. 
 
 I did not return to my father's without ex- 
 periencing all the sensations inspired by the 
 sight of those places which one has been accus- 
 tomed to associate with an object that is no 
 more. They had taken the ill-judged precaution 
 to remove my mother's portrait, as if the void 
 thus produced was not calculated to recall more 
 painfully than even her picture the loss I had 
 experienced. I instantly demanded it: it was 
 restored. The domestic cares devolving entirely 
 on me, I occupied myself with them ; but they 
 were not numerous in a family of only three. 
 
 I have never been able to comprehend how 
 such cares could absorb the attention of a woman 
 who possesses method and activity, however con- 
 siderable her household may be, for in that case 
 there are a greater number of assistants to share 
 her labors; nothing more is necessary than a 
 
of Madame Roland 275 
 
 right distribution of employments, and a little 
 vigilance. This I discovered in a variety of 
 different situations, during all which nothing 
 was ever done but in consequence of my orders ; 
 and when these cares were most pressing they 
 scarcely ever consumed more than two hours a 
 day. Leisure will always be found when one 
 knows how to employ her time : it is the people 
 who do nothing that want time for everything. 
 Besides, it is not in the least surprising that the 
 women who pay or receive useless visits, or who 
 think themselves badly dressed if they have not 
 consecrated many hours to their glass, find the 
 days long from mere lassitude, and yet too short 
 for the performance of their duties ; but I have 
 seen what are termed notable housewives who 
 were insupportable to the world, and even to 
 their husbands, on account of a fatiguing pre- 
 occupation about their household affairs. I 
 do not know anything so disgusting as this 
 ridiculous conduct, nor so well calculated to 
 render a man attached to any other woman 
 rather than his wife. She ought to appear to 
 him to be a good housewife, but not to such a 
 degree as to force him to search elsewhere for 
 charms. I think that a wife should either keep, 
 
276 Private Memoirs 
 
 or cause to be kept, the linen and clothes in 
 order, nurse her children, give instructions about 
 or even superintend the cookery, without speak- 
 ing of it ; and all this with a command of tem- 
 per, a proper disposal of those moments which 
 allow her an opportunity of conversing about 
 other matters, and in such a manner as to 
 please, in short, by her good humor as well as 
 by the charms of her sex. I have had occa- 
 sion to remark that it is nearly the same in the 
 government of states as of families. Those 
 famous statesmen who are always quoting their 
 labors either leave much in arrear or render 
 themselves offensive to every one around them : 
 those public men that vaunt so much of, and 
 appear so deeply involved in business, only 
 make a noise about their difficulties because of 
 their incapacity to overcome them, or their 
 ignorance in the art of government. 
 
 My studies became dearer to me than before ; 
 they formed my consolation. Left still more 
 than ever by myself, and not seldom melancholy, 
 I felt myself under the necessity of writing. I 
 love to render an account of my own ideas to 
 myself, and the intervention of my pen makes 
 them clearer. When I do not employ myself in 
 
of Madame Roland 277 
 
 this way, I revise still more than I meditate : by 
 these means I curb my imagination, and accus- 
 tom myself to reasoning. I had already begun 
 to make some collections ; to these I made some 
 additions, and entitled the whole " The Works 
 of Leisure Hours, and various Reflections.'' I 
 had no other object than by these means to fix 
 my opinions and to possess a register of my 
 sentiments, which I could some day compare 
 with each other, in such a manner that their 
 gradations or their changes might serve to my- 
 self at once as a lesson and a record. I have a 
 pretty large packet of the " Works " of a young 
 girl piled up in a dusty corner of my library, or 
 in the garret. Never did I feel the slightest 
 temptation to become one day an author; I 
 perceived very early that a woman who acquires 
 this title loses far more than she has gained. 
 The men do not love, and her own sex criticise 
 her. If her works are bad, they ridicule her ; 
 and they are right: if they are good, they 
 ascribe them to some one else; if they are 
 forced to acknowledge that she has discovered 
 merit, they sift so maliciously her character, 
 her morals, her conduct, and her talents, that 
 they balance the reputation of her genius 
 
278 Private Memoirs 
 
 by the publicity which they give to her 
 errors. 
 
 Besides, my happiness was my chief concern ; 
 and I perceived that the pubh'c never inter- 
 meddled with the happiness of any one without 
 marring it. I do not find anything so agreeable 
 as to have our real value appreciated by the 
 people with whom we live; and nothing so 
 empty as the admiration of a few persons whom 
 we are never likely to meet. 
 
 Alas ! what an injury did those do me who 
 took it upon them to withdraw the veil under 
 which I loved to remain concealed ! During 
 twelve years of my life I have shared my hus- 
 band's tasks, as I shared his meals, quite natu- 
 rally and as a matter of course. If one part 
 of his works happened to.be quoted in which 
 were discovered unwonted graces of style, or if 
 a flattering reception was given to an academic 
 trifle he was pleased to transmit to the learned 
 societies of which he was a member, I partici- 
 pated in his satisfaction, without remarking the 
 more particularly on that account, whether it 
 was I who had composed it; and he often 
 ended by persuading himself that he had been 
 in a better vein than usual when he wrote 
 
of Madame Roland 279 
 
 such and such a passage. During his adminis- 
 tration, if it was necessary to express great or 
 striking truths, I employed the whole bent of 
 my mind ; and it was but natural that its efforts 
 should be preferable to those of a secretary. I 
 loved my country; I was an enthusiast in the 
 cause of liberty; I was unacquainted with any 
 interest or any passions that could enter into 
 competition with these ; and my language ought 
 to be pure and pathetic, as it was that of the 
 heart and of truth. 
 
 I was so much impressed with the import- 
 ance of the subject that I never thought of 
 myself. Once only I was amused with the 
 singularity of the relative situations. This was 
 when employed in writing to the pope in be- 
 half of the French artists imprisoned at Rome. 
 A letter to the pope, in the name of the Execu- 
 tive Council of France, sketched secretly by the 
 hand of a woman, in the plain cabinet, which 
 Marat was pleased to term a " boudoir," ap- 
 peared to me such a bit of humor that I 
 laughed heartily when I had finished it. 
 
 The pleasure of these contrasts consisted in 
 the very secrecy ; but this was necessarily less 
 attainable in a public situation, where the eye 
 
2 8o Private Memoirs 
 
 of the clerk distinguishes the papers which he 
 copies. There is nothing singular, however, in 
 all this, unless it be its novelty. Why should 
 not a woman act as secretary to her husband, 
 without lessening his merit? It is well known 
 that ministers cannot do everything themselves ; 
 and surely, if the wives of our rulers under the 
 old (or even the new) regime had been capable 
 of making draughts of letters, official despatches, 
 or proclamations, it would have been better to 
 employ their time in this manner than in sohcit- 
 ing and intriguing for all sorts of people: the 
 one excludes the other by the very nature of 
 things. 
 
 If those who knew me had judged properly 
 in respect to facts, they would have prevented 
 me from suffering a sort of celebrity which I 
 never envied ; instead of now spending my time 
 in refuting falsehood, I should be reading a 
 chapter of Montaigne, painting a flower, or play- 
 ing an ariette, and thus beguiling the solitude 
 of my prison, without sitting down to write my 
 confession. 
 
 But I now anticipate a period which I had 
 not as yet attained. I make my remarks equally 
 without constraint, and without scruple; since 
 
of Madame Roland 281 
 
 it is myself that is to be described, it is neces- 
 sary that I should be seen with all my irregu- 
 larities. I do not lead my pen, it carries me 
 along with it wherever it pleases, and I give it 
 the rein. 
 
 -My father honestly endeavored for some time 
 after he became a widower, to remain more at 
 home than hitherto ; but he became weary of this, 
 and when the love of his profession did not get 
 the better of his failing, all my efforts could not 
 cure it. I wished to converse with him, but we 
 had few ideas in common ; and he then prob- 
 ably hankered after a mode of life which he 
 did not wish that I should be acquainted with. 
 I often sat down to piquet with him. It was not 
 perhaps very amusing for him to play with his 
 own daughter; besides he was not ignorant 
 that I detested cards, and however desirous I 
 might be to persuade him that I took pleasure 
 ir them, and however honestly I tried for his 
 sake to do so, he entertained no doubt that it 
 was all mere complaisance on my part. 
 
 I could have wished to render his house agree- 
 able to him, but the means were not in my 
 power, as I had no other acquaintance than my 
 old relations whom I visited, and who never put 
 
282 Private Memoirs 
 
 themselves out of their usual way. He might 
 have formed a little society at home, but he had 
 become accustomed to one of another sort else- 
 where, and he well knew that it would not have 
 been proper to introduce me there. Was my 
 mother really in the wrong to live a life so 
 secluded, and not to make her house gay enough 
 to be attractive to her husband? This would 
 be blaming her too readily; but it would also 
 be unjust to consider my father as entirely to 
 blame for his failings. There is such a connec- 
 tion between the evils which flow necessarily 
 from a first cause, that it is proper always to 
 ascend to the source for an explanation. 
 
 Our legislators of the present day aim to 
 attain a general good, whence is to spring the 
 happiness of individuals ; I am much afraid this 
 is like putting the cart before the horse. It 
 would be more conformable with nature, and 
 perhaps with reason, to study well what con- 
 stitutes domestic happiness, to insure it to in- 
 dividuals in such a manner that the common 
 felicity shall be composed of that of each citi- 
 zen, and that all shall be interested in conserv- 
 ing the order of things which has procured 
 them this. However charming the written 
 
of Madame Roland 283 
 
 principles of a constitution may be, if I behold 
 a portion of those who have adopted it in grief 
 and tears, I must believe it to be no other than 
 a political monster ; if those who do not weep 
 rejoice in the sufferings of the rest, I shall say 
 that it is atrocious, and that its authors are 
 either weak or wicked men. 
 
 In a marriage where the parties are ill mated, 
 the virtue of one of them may maintain order 
 and peace, but the want of happiness will be 
 experienced sooner or later, and produce in- 
 conveniencies more or less hurtful. The scaf- 
 folding of these unions resembles the system 
 of our politicians; the bases are rotten, and 
 the whole will some day give way, in spite of 
 the art employed in its construction. 
 
 My mother could not collect around her any 
 others than such as resembled herself, and 
 these would not have suited my father ; on the 
 other hand, those whom he would have liked 
 to have constantly about him would not only 
 have been disagreeable to my mother, but 
 incompatible with the manner in which she 
 wished to educate me. She therefore neces- 
 sarily confined herself to her own family, and 
 cultivated only those superficial connections 
 
284 Private Memoirs 
 
 which produce an acquaintance without creat- 
 ing an intimacy. 
 
 Everything went well while my father, with 
 a good business and a young wife, found in 
 his own home all the employment and pleasure 
 which he could desire. But he was a year 
 younger than my mother; she began early in 
 life to experience infirmities; some circum- 
 stances slackened his ardor for labor; the 
 desire of getting rich made him embark in a 
 few hazardous enterprises: thenceforward all 
 was lost. The love of labor forms the virtue 
 of man in a state of society; it is essentially 
 that of the individual who does not possess a 
 cultivated mind. The moment that this desire 
 languishes, danger is at hand ; if it be extin- 
 guished, he becomes a prey to the passions, 
 which are always more fatal when there is less 
 employment, because then there is also less 
 restraint. 
 
 Become a widower at the very moment when 
 he stood in need of new ties to confine him at 
 home, my poor father kept a mistress, that he 
 might not present his daughter with a step- 
 mother ; he had recourse to play, to indemnify 
 himself for his loss of employment; and, with- 
 
of Madame Roland 285 
 
 out ceasing to be an honest man, sank gradually 
 and insensibly to ruin. 
 
 My relations, worthy and unsuspicious people, 
 confiding in my father's attachment to me, had 
 not demanded an inventory of the estate after 
 the death of his wife; my interests appeared 
 to be safely confided to his guardianship ; they 
 would have imagined that they had wronged 
 him had they done otherwise. I was placed 
 in a situation that enabled me to surmise the 
 contrary; but as I would have deemed it in- 
 decent to reveal what I knew on this subject, 
 I remained silent and resigned. Behold me 
 then alone in the house, my time divided be- 
 tween my housework and my studies, which I 
 sometimes abandoned in order to answer people 
 who were vexed at not finding my father at 
 home. Two apprentices, one of whom lived 
 in the house, were now sufficient for the work 
 of the shop. 
 
 My servant was a little woman of fifty-five, 
 thin, alert, sprightly, and gay, who loved me 
 exceedingly because I made hfe pleasant for 
 her. She always attended me when I went 
 out without my father, but my walks never ex- 
 tended beyond the house of my grandparents 
 
286 Private Memoirs 
 
 and the church. I had not again grown de- 
 vout; but what I no longer practised out of 
 regard to the scruples of my mother, I con- 
 tinued from a sense of duty to the good order 
 of society and the edification of my neighbor. 
 In obedience to this principle, I carried with 
 me to church, if not the ardent piety of former 
 years, at least enough of decorum and a spirit 
 of meditation. I no longer accompanied the 
 ordinary of the mass; I read some Christian 
 work. For Saint Augustine I have always had 
 much liking — and assuredly there are fathers 
 of the church whom one may peruse without 
 being devout, for there is food enough in them 
 both for the heart and the mind. 
 
 I wished to go through a course of reading 
 of the preachers, the living as well as the 
 dead. The eloquence of the pulpit is of a sort 
 to enable the gift of oratory to unfold itself 
 with splendor. I had already read Bossuet 
 and Fldchier; I was glad to review them now 
 with a maturer eye, and I became familiar with 
 Bourdaloue and Massillon; nothing could be 
 more diverting than to see their names entered 
 in my little memorandum book with those of 
 De Pauw, Raynal, and the author of " The Sys- 
 
of Madame Roland 287 
 
 tem of Nature ; " but what is still more so, is, 
 that in consequence of reading sermons, I was 
 seized with the desire of composing one. I was 
 vexed that the preachers always recurred to 
 mysteries; it seemed to me that they ought 
 to have drawn up moral discourses, in which 
 the devil and the incarnation were never men- 
 tioned. I accordingly seized my pen, to try 
 my own hand at the business, and wrote a ser- 
 mon on the love of one's neighbor. I amused 
 my little uncle with it ; he was become a canon 
 of Vincennes, and said it was wrong in me not 
 to have undertaken this sooner and at a time 
 when he himself was obliged to compose dis- 
 courses, as in that case he would have preached 
 mine. 
 
 I had often heard the logic of Bourdaloue 
 much vaunted ; I dared in some measure to differ 
 from his admirers, and actually drew up a crit- 
 icism on one of his most esteemed discourses ; 
 but I never showed it to any one. I love to 
 render an account to myself of my own opin- 
 ions, but I do not choose to submit them to 
 the eye of another. Massillon, less lofty than 
 Bourdaloue, and far more affecting, won my 
 esteem. I was not then acquainted with the 
 
288 Private Memoirs 
 
 Protestant orators, among whom Blair, more 
 especially, has cultivated with equal simplicity 
 and elegance that species of composition, whose 
 existence I readily conceived, and which I 
 could have wished to see adopted. 
 
 Among the preachers of that day, I have 
 heard the Abbd I'Enfant, toward the close of 
 his briUiant career; polish and reason appeared 
 to me to characterize him. Father £lis6e was 
 already out of fashion, notwithstanding his close 
 reasoning and chaste diction : . his mind was too 
 metaphysical and his delivery too simple to 
 please the vulgar. 
 
 Paris was a singular place in those times; 
 this rendezvous of all the impurities of the 
 kingdom, was also the focus of taste and 
 knowledge: preacher or comedian, professor 
 or mountebank, in short whoever possessed 
 abilities, was followed in his turn ; but the first 
 mind in the world would not have long fixed 
 the public attention, for which novelty was 
 always necessary, and this was effected by noise 
 as well as by merit. 
 
 A certain person leaving the famous order 
 of the Jesuits, becoming a missionary, and' 
 pretending to exhibit himself at court, was 
 
of Madame Roland 289 
 
 enabled by that means to attract notice and 
 procure a number of followers. I also went 
 to hear this Abb6 de Beauregard; he was a 
 little man, with a powerful voice, and declaimed 
 with wonderful impudence and extraordinary 
 vi-olence. He retailed commonplaces with the 
 air of inspiration, and he supported these by 
 such terrible gesticulations, that he persuaded a 
 great number of people they were very fine. 
 I did not then know so well as now that men 
 assembled together in great numbers possess 
 ears rather than judgment; that to astonish 
 is to lead them, and that whoever assumes the 
 authority of commanding, disposes them to 
 obey. I could not find utterance for my aston- 
 ishment at the success of this personage, who 
 was either a great fanatic, or a great rogue, and 
 perhaps both. 
 
 I had not sufficiently analyzed the accounts 
 of the orators of the ancient republics; else 
 I should have been better able to judge respect- 
 ing the means of affecting the passions of the 
 people. But I shall never forget a vulgar man 
 planted directly opposite the pulpit in which 
 Beauregard was displaying his antics, with his 
 eyes fixed on the orator, his mouth open, and 
 19 
 
2 go Private Memoirs 
 
 involuntarily allowing to escape the expression 
 of his stupid admiration in the three follow- 
 ing words, which I well recollect : " How he 
 sweats ! " Behold then the means of imposing 
 upon fools ! How much reason had Phocion, 
 surprised at finding himself applauded in an 
 assembly of the people, to demand of his 
 friends whether he had not uttered something 
 foolish ! 
 
 This same M. de Beauregard would have 
 made a fierce clubbist ; and how many of the 
 members of the popular societies, in their 
 enthusiasm over brazen-faced babblers, have 
 recalled to my memory the expression made 
 use of by the man just . spoken of, " How he 
 sweats ! " 
 
 My illness had created some talk; it would 
 appear that people deemed it either very un- 
 common, or very charming, that a young girl 
 should be in danger of losing her Hfe through 
 mere sorrow at the death of her mother. I 
 received many marks of regard on this account, 
 which were extremely agreeable to me. M. de 
 Boismorel was one of the first who bestowed 
 them; I had not seen him since his visits at 
 my grandmother's. I perceived the impression 
 
of Madame Roland 291 
 
 which the change that had taken place in my 
 person since that period, produced upon him. 
 He returned during my absence, conversed a 
 long time with my father, who doubtless spoke 
 to him about my studies, and showed him the 
 little apartment in which I passed my time. 
 They looked at my books; my works were 
 upon the table ; these excited his curiosity, and 
 my father took upon himself to gratify it, by 
 showing them to him. 
 
 ' Great displeasure and complaints ensued on 
 my part, when I found on my return that they 
 had violated my asylum. My father pretended 
 that he would not have complied with the 
 wishes of any person less grave and less worthy 
 of consideration than M. de Boismorel. His 
 reasons did not make me relish his proceedings, 
 as it was an offence against liberty and prop- 
 erty; it was disposing, without my consent, of 
 what I alone possessed the right of conferring ; 
 but, at all events, the harm was done. Next 
 day I received a well-written letter from M. de 
 Boismorel, couched in too flattering terms not 
 to procure his pardon for having profited by 
 the indiscretion of my father, and offering me 
 access to his library. I did not read this 
 
2g2 Private Memoirs 
 
 proposal with indifference: from that moment 
 a correspondence began between us; I tasted 
 for the first time those agreeable sensations 
 which sensibility and self-love make us exper- 
 ience when we find ourselves esteemed by those 
 whose judgment we value. 
 
 M. de Boismorel no longer resided at Paris; 
 his partiality for the country, and his wish not 
 to remove his mother to too great a distance 
 from the capital, had made him purchase the 
 " Petit-Bercy" below Charenton, a charming 
 house, the garden of which extended to the 
 banks of the Seine. He pressed us much 
 to take a walk thither, testifying at the same 
 time,, the greatest eagerness to receive us. I 
 recollected the reception given us by his mother 
 upon a former occasion, and was not in the least 
 tempted to renew that experience ; so I resisted 
 the entreaties of my father. He insisted ; and, 
 as I would not oppose the little trips which he 
 sometimes liked to make with me, we one day 
 set out for Bercy. The ladies of the family of 
 Boismorel were sitting in the summer salon; 
 the presence of the daughter-in-law, whose ami- 
 able disposition I had heard much talk of, im- 
 mediately put me at my ease. The mother, 
 
of Madame Roland 293 
 
 whose manner may be recollected, and whom 
 years had not rendered more humble, evinced 
 however more politeness toward a young per- 
 son who had the appearance of respecting her- 
 self, than she had formerly shown to a child 
 whom she deemed of no consequence. 
 
 " How well your dear daughter looks, Mr. 
 Phlipon ! But do you know that my son is 
 enchanted with her? Tell me, mademoiselle, 
 do you not wish to be married?" 
 
 " Others have already thought for me on that 
 subject, madame, but I have not as yet seen 
 reason to come to any determination." 
 
 "You are hard to please, I suppose! Have, 
 you any repugnance to a man of a certain 
 •age?; 
 
 "The knowledge I might have of a person 
 would alone determine my attachment, my re- 
 fusal, or my acceptation." 
 
 " Those kinds of marriages have most solid- 
 ity; a young man often escapes through our 
 fingers, when one thinks him most attached." 
 
 "And why, mother," said M. de Boismorel, 
 who just entered, " should not mademoiselle 
 believe herself able to captivate such a person 
 entirely?" 
 
2 94 Private Memoirs 
 
 " She is dressed with taste," observed Madame 
 de Boismorel to her daughter-in-law. 
 
 " Ah ! extremely well, and so modestly too," 
 replied the young woman, with all that suavity 
 which appertains only to devotees, for she be- 
 longed to that class ; and the little curls shading 
 an agreeable face that had seen thirty-four 
 summers, were disposed with due primness. 
 
 " How different," added she, " from that 
 ridiculous mass of plumage we see fluttering 
 above empty heads ! You do not love feathers, 
 mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " I never wear them, madame, because, being 
 the daughter of an artist, they would seem to 
 announce a situation and fortune to which I 
 do not pretend." 
 
 " But would you wear them were you in an- 
 other situation?" 
 
 " I do not know ; I attach but little import- 
 ance to such trifles ; in regard to myself, I esti- 
 mate those matters by convenience alone, and 
 I take good care not to judge a person by my 
 first impressions of her toilette." 
 
 The observation was severe; but I pro- 
 nounced it so mildly that the edge was blunted. 
 
 " A philosopher ! " exclaims she, with a sigh, 
 
of Madame Roland 295 
 
 as if she had recollected that I did not belong 
 to her sect. 
 
 After a nice examination of my person, sea- 
 soned with compliments similar to those I have 
 related, M. de Boismorel put an end to the 
 in«ntory by proposing that we should visit his 
 garden and library. I admired the situation of 
 the first, in which he made me remark a noble 
 cedar of Lebanon ; I glanced at the other with 
 delight, and I pointed out the works, and even 
 collections which I begged him to lend me, 
 such as Bayle among others, and the " Memoirs 
 of the Academies." 
 
 The ladies invited us to dinner on a day fixed 
 by them for that purpose ; we repaired thither 
 accordingly, and I soon judged, by the two or 
 three men of business who were our fellow- 
 guests, that they had suited the company to 
 my father, without considering me. But M. de 
 Boismorel had recourse as before to his library 
 and the garden, where we conversed together. 
 He had caused his son to form one of the party; 
 he was a young man of seventeen, ugly enough, 
 and more eccentric than amiable. The com- 
 pany that arrived in the evening, and which I 
 examined with an observing eye, did not appear 
 
296 
 
 Private Memoirs 
 
 to me to be very attractive, notwithstanding its 
 titles ; the daughters of a marquis, some coun- 
 sellors, a prior and a few old baronesses, talked 
 with more importance, but to the full as in- 
 sipidly as nuns, churchwardens, and tradesmen. 
 Those points of view in which I consider the 
 world, and examine it unperceived by any one, 
 disgust me with it, and attach me still more to 
 my own manner of living. 
 
 M. de Boismorel did not let slip this opportu- 
 nity to form a connection, on which perhaps 
 he founded some project; he accordingly so 
 ordered matters that the two fathers and the 
 two children formed a select party. 
 
 It was in this manner also, that he accom- 
 panied me to the public meeting of the French 
 Academy, on the succeeding anniversary of St. 
 Louis. Those meetings were at that time the 
 rendezvous of good company, and they ex- 
 hibited all the contrasts which our manners 
 and our follies could not fail to produce. On 
 the morning of St. Louis's day, they celebrated 
 a mass in the chapel of the Academy, at which 
 the singers of the Opera assisted, and at the 
 conclusion a favorite orator of the beau monde 
 delivered a panegyric on the Saint-King. 
 
of Madame Roland 297 
 
 The Ahh6 de Besplas was pitched upon for 
 this function. I Ustened to him with great 
 pleasure, notwithstanding the triviality and stale- 
 ness of his theme; he mingled with his dis- 
 course certain bold philosophical touches and 
 indirect satires on the government, which he 
 was obliged to alter when he printed his speech. 
 
 M. de Boismorel, who was intimate with him, 
 endeavored in vain to obtain a faithful copy, 
 which he would have communicated to me; 
 the Ahh6 de Besplas, attached to the court as 
 chaplain to Monsieur, was exceedingly fortunate 
 to procure pardon for his boldness, by the 
 absolute sacrifice of the offensive remarks. The 
 evening session of the Academy opened a career 
 to the first-rate wits in the kingdom, to the 
 grandees who wished to enter their names on 
 that list, and exhibit themselves in such a con- 
 spicuous station to the eyes of the public; in 
 fine, to the amateurs who went to hear one class, 
 to see another, and to show themselves to all ; 
 and to the handsome women, who were sure of 
 their share of attention. 
 
 I noticed especially d'Alembert, whose name, 
 and whose " Miscellanies" and "Discourses con- 
 cerning the Encyclopedia," had excited my curi- 
 
298 Private Memoirs 
 
 osity. His insignificant figure and shrill voice 
 made me think that it was better to be ac- 
 quainted with the writings of a philosopher than 
 his person. The Ahh6 de Lille confirmed this 
 observation, in respect to men of letters; he 
 read some charming verses in a very clumsy 
 manner. The eulogy on Catinat by La Harpe 
 gained the prize, and it well deserved it. 
 
 As free from affectation at the Academy as 
 in the church, and as I have since then been 
 when at the play, I did not mingle in the noisy 
 plaudits conferred on the striking passages, for 
 these were often meant only to evince the fine 
 taste and discrimination of those who bestowed 
 them. I was extremely attentive; I listened 
 without noticing those around me; and when 
 I was affected I wept, without caring whether 
 it appeared singular to any one. I however 
 had occasion to perceive that this was the case ; 
 for, as M. de Boismorel conducted me to the 
 door, I noticed certain persons pointing me out 
 to one another with a smile, which I was not 
 vain enough to imagine proceeded from admi- 
 ration, but which l^ad nothing uncivil in it ; and 
 I heard them comment upon my sensibility. I 
 experienced a certain mixture of surprise and 
 
of Madame Roland 299 
 
 agreeable confusion; and was at length happy 
 to escape from the crowd and their attention. 
 
 The eulogy of Catinat suggested to M. de 
 Boismorel an interesting pilgrimage; he pro- 
 posed to me a visit to St. Gratien, where this 
 gyeat man had ended his days in retirement, at 
 a distance from the court and its honors ; it was 
 a philosophical walk, perfectly suited to my 
 taste. M. de Boismorel, accompanied by his 
 son, accordingly came on Michaelmas-day to 
 take my father and me along with him. We re- 
 paired to the valley of Montmorency, and visited 
 the borders of the lake that embellishes it ; we 
 then ascended to St. Gratien, and reposed under 
 the shade of those frees which Catinat had 
 planted with his own hand. After a frugal 
 dinner we spent the remainder of the day in the 
 delicious park of Montmorency; we saw the 
 cottage which Jean Jacques Rousseau had inhab- 
 ited, and we enjoyed all the pleasure which a 
 charming country affords, more especially when 
 there are several that contemplate it with equal 
 admiration. During one of those pauses given 
 to silent contemplation of the majesty of nature, 
 M. de Boismorel took from his pocket a manu- 
 script, written with his own hand, and read a 
 
300 Private Memoirs 
 
 passage to us, of which he had made an extract, 
 and which was then but little known. It was 
 that anecdote of Montesquieu, who, on being 
 discovered at Marseilles by the young man 
 whose father he had rescued, concealed himself 
 in order to avoid the thanks of those whom he 
 had befriended. Although touched by Montes- 
 quieu's magnanimity, I still cannot altogether 
 approve his persistence in denying that he was 
 the benefactor of this enraptured family. The 
 generous man, it is true, never asks for grati- 
 tude; but if it is becoming to avoid its mani- 
 festations, is there not, too, something fine in 
 permitting the expression of it? I even think it 
 is rendering a new service to people of sensi- 
 bility whom we have obliged, since it affords 
 them a certain means of discharging the debt. 
 
 It must not be supposed that I was altogether 
 at my ease in regard to this connection between 
 my father and M. de Boismorel ; there was no 
 personal equality between them, and of this I 
 was too painfully aware. His son regarded me 
 closely, but this did not please me, for I saw in 
 it more of curiosity than of interest; besides, 
 his comparative youth (he was three or four 
 years my junior) placed him at a certain dis- 
 
of Madame Roland 301 
 
 advantage. His father did not fail to note this ; 
 and I learned later that he had one day said 
 to mine, shaking him by the hand, " Ah, if my 
 son were worthy of your daughter, I might 
 appear singular, but I should be too happy." 
 
 I did not entertain any idea of this kind; I 
 did not even calculate the disparity; I felt it, 
 however, and that prevented me from making 
 any suppositions. I judged the conduct of M. 
 de Boismorel to be that of a man of sense and 
 sensibility, who honored my sex, esteemed my 
 person, and, as it were, protected my taste. 
 His letters resembled himself: they were char- 
 acterized by an agreeable gravity, bore the 
 stamp of a mind superior to prejudices, and of a 
 respectful friendship. 
 
 I became acquainted through him with what 
 are termed the novelties in the learned and 
 literary world. I saw him but seldom, though I 
 heard from him every week; and, to spare the 
 servants the long trips to and from Bercy, he 
 used to send the books he selected for me to 
 his sister's, Madame de Faviere's. M. de Bois- 
 morel, who was greatly attached to letters, and 
 who, consequently, imagined that I ought to be 
 employed in that field, or perhaps with a design 
 
30 2 Private Memoirs 
 
 to sound me, invited me to choose a subject, 
 and try my talents at composition. I at first 
 considered this as a mere compliment ; but, on 
 his returning to the charge, he afforded me an 
 opportunity of stating my views in this regard, — 
 my determined dislike of publicity, and my dis- 
 interested attachment to study, which I wished 
 to render serviceable to my happiness, without 
 the intervention of any kind of gloty, which ap- 
 peared to me only calculated to trouble it. 
 After having set forth my principles, I mingled 
 with my arguments extemporary verses, the 
 ideas of which were better than the expression. 
 I recollect, that while speaking of the gods, 
 and of the dispensations made by them of bene- 
 fits and duties, I said : — 
 
 Aux hommes ouvrant la carrifere 
 Des grants et des nobles talents, 
 lis n'ont mis aucune barrifere 
 A leurs plus sublimes dlans. 
 Da mon sexe faible et sensible, 
 lis ne veulent que des vertus ; 
 Nous pouvons imiter Titus, 
 Mais dans un sentier moins pdnible. 
 Jouissez du bien d'etre admis 
 A toutes ces sortes de gloire ; 
 Pour nous la temple de Mdmoire 
 Est dans le cceur de nos amis. 
 
BHISSOT 
 
of Madame Roland 303 
 
 M. de Boismorel answered me sometimes in 
 the same style. His verses were not much 
 better than my own ; but neither of us attached 
 great importance to them. 
 
 He called one day to tell me that he was 
 desirous to employ a stratagem to stimulate 
 the industry of his son, whose application to his 
 studies had sadly fallen off. This youth had, 
 very naturally, formed an intimacy with his 
 cousin de Favieres, a young man of twenty- 
 one and a counsellor of the parliament, wild, 
 aS young men of his years are apt to be, and 
 filled with the conceit of a magistrate who 
 plumes himself on his office without realizing 
 its obligations. 
 
 The Itahan comedy or the opera occupied 
 the attention of the two cousins much more 
 than Cujas and Bartole did the one, or the 
 mathematics, which he had just begun to study, 
 the other. 
 
 " It is necessary," said M. de Boismorel to me, 
 that " you should reprove my son in a letter 
 replete with wisdom and penetration : in short, 
 in such a manner as your own mind will dictate ; 
 and in a way to stimulate his self-love, and 
 awaken generous resolutions." 
 
304 Private Memoirs 
 
 "I, monsieur! I?" (I could not believe my 
 own ears.) "And in what manner, pray, shall I 
 be able to preach to your son? " 
 
 " In any manner you please ; you shall not 
 appear in the business; we shall contrive to 
 make the letter appear to be from some one 
 who narrowly examines his conduct, is ac- 
 quainted with his proceedings, is interested in 
 his behalf, and who thus warns him of his dan- 
 ger. I know how to get the letter conveyed 
 to him at a moment when it will produce its 
 full effect. It is only necessary that he should 
 not discover me; and I shall inform him at a 
 proper opportunity to what physician he is 
 indebted." 
 
 " Oh ! you must never mention my name ! — 
 But you have other friends who can do this 
 better than I can." 
 
 " I think otherwise ; and I beg this favor 
 of you." 
 
 "Very well, I renounce every other consid- 
 eration on purpose to prove my desire of oblig- 
 ing you. I shall accordingly transmit you the 
 rough draught of a letter, which you shall give 
 me your opinion of, and correct." 
 
 That very evening I wrote a pretty sharp and 
 
of Madame Roland 305 
 
 somewhat ironical epistle, such as I deemed 
 proper to tickle the self-love and excite the 
 reason of a young man to whom it is necessary 
 to talk of his happiness when one wishes to 
 convert him to serious habits. M. de Boismorel 
 was enchanted with it, and begged me to for- 
 ward it without altering a word. Accordingly 
 I enclosed it in a note to Sophie, so that she 
 might post it at Amiens; and I waited with 
 some curiosity to learn what my sermon might 
 result in. 
 
 M. de Boismorel soon sent me certain par- 
 ticulars respecting which I was exceedingly 
 interested. He had prepared a great many 
 circumstances in order to make a greater im- 
 pression. The young man was affected: he 
 supposed the celebrated Duclos to be the au- 
 thor of this remonstrance, and he went to 
 thank him. Deceived in this conjecture, he 
 addressed himself to another of his father's 
 friends, and guessed no better. At length his 
 studies were in some measure resumed. 
 
 It was not very long after this, when M. de 
 Boismorel, walking with his son one very hot 
 day from Bercy to Vincennes, where he knew 
 I then was with my uncle, and whither he 
 
3o6 
 
 Private Memoirs 
 
 brought me the Ahh6 Delille's translation of 
 the Georgics, suffered a sunstroke. He treated 
 it lightly; headaches and a fever ensued, and 
 then coma; in short, he died in the vigor 
 of his age, after a few days' illness. It was 
 scarcely more than eighteen months that we 
 had corresponded together, yet I wept more 
 bitterly, I believe, at his death than his own 
 son; and I never recollect him without expe- 
 riencing that mournful regret, that sentiment 
 of veneration and tenderness, which always ac- 
 companies the remembrance of a good man. 
 
 When my sorrow was somewhat softened, I 
 celebrated his memory in a monody, which no 
 one has ever seen, but which I sang to the 
 accompaniment of my guitar, and which I have 
 now lost and forgotten. I have never since 
 heard anything about his family, save that 
 when my father went to pay a visit of condo- 
 lence, young Boismorel, who is called Roberge, 
 observed carelessly that he had found my let- 
 ters to his father, and had put them aside in 
 order to return them to me, if desired; and 
 that among them he had discovered the origi- 
 nal of a certain epistle he himself had been 
 favored with. My father knew very well what 
 
of Madame Roland 307 
 
 he alluded to. He said but little in reply, 
 finding that the young man appeared to be 
 piqued : whence I concluded that he was a 
 fool, and troubled myself no more about him. 
 I do not know whether I guessed right or not. 
 
 Some time before this, Madame de Favieres 
 called upon my father, about the purchase 
 either of trinkets or some other productions of 
 his art. I was in my little study, and heard her 
 in the adjoining apartment. 
 
 " You have a charming daughter, M. Phlipon ; 
 my brother says that he knows no woman of 
 sense who is more so : take care at least that 
 she do not become a female wit, for that would 
 be detestable. Is she not a little pedantic? 
 This is to be dreaded ; for I think I heard some- 
 thing of that kind. She has a good figure and 
 a pretty face." 
 
 " This is," said I, in my corner, " an imperti- 
 nent lady, who resembles her mother exceed- 
 ingly. God keep me from seeing her face, or 
 exhibiting mine to her ! " 
 
 My father, who knew very well that I must 
 have heard her, refrained from calling me, since 
 I did not appear ; and I never heard the voice 
 of Madame de Favieres after that day. 
 
3o8 Private Memoirs 
 
 I have as yet said but a few words about my 
 excellent cousin Trude. She was one of those 
 women whom heaven in its goodness forms for 
 the honor of the species and the consolation 
 of the unfortunate: generous from impulse, 
 amiable without effort, I discovered no fault 
 in her save an excess of scrupulosity and the 
 amour-propre of virtue. She would have deemed 
 herself remiss in her duty, had she acted in 
 such a way as to give rise to a doubt whether 
 she had fulfilled it. Thus constituted, she re- 
 mained to the last the victim of the most silly 
 of husbands. Trude was a kind of rustic, as 
 foolish in his ideas as hasty in his temper and 
 coarse in his habits. He dealt in looking-glasses, 
 as all the Trudes, from father to son, for some 
 generations, had done; and it was he whom I 
 had the honor to have for cousin by my mother's 
 side. Active from temperament, laborious by 
 fits, aided by the cares and the knowledge of a 
 mild and sensible woman, he was fairly pros- 
 perous, and owed it to the merit of his wife that 
 he was well received by his own family, who 
 would not have taken any notice of him had he 
 been single. 
 
 My mother was greatly attached to her 
 
of Madame Roland 309 
 
 cousin, who revered her in return, and became 
 very fond of me. 
 
 She demonstrated this, as has been already 
 said, on the death of my mother. Occupied 
 during the day with her household affairs and 
 her husband, she insisted on being my nurse 
 at night, coming a great distance to fulfil the 
 functions of one as long as I was in danger. 
 This circumstance necessarily connected us still 
 more firmly together, and we saw each other 
 frequently. 
 
 Her husband took it into his head to visit me 
 still oftener than before, and without his wife. 
 I tolerated this at first on her account, notwith- 
 standing my being weary of his company. He 
 became insupportable to me; and I made use 
 of all the discretion possible with a wrongheaded 
 man, on purpose to make him perceive that his 
 claims as my relation, and the husband of my 
 dear friend, were not sufficient to authorize his 
 frequent calls, which could no longer be at- 
 tributed to the sufferings and illness proceeding 
 from my grief. 
 
 My dear cousin came a little less often, but 
 he spun out his visit to two or three hours, al- 
 though I could do anything, and even write, by 
 
3IO Private Memoirs 
 
 observing to him that I was in a great hurry ; 
 but when I invited him in a decisive tone to 
 retire, as it was at length necessary to speak 
 plainly, he went home in such a bad humor, 
 and treated his wife so harshly, that she be- 
 sought me to have patience, for her sake. It 
 was more especially on Sundays and festivals 
 that I was subjected to this tax: when the 
 weather was fine I made my escape, and met 
 his wife at the house of my aged relations ; for 
 to receive her at home, at the same time as him, 
 was not to see her, but to witness the disagree- 
 able scenes which her cross-grained husband 
 never failed to make her experience. 
 
 During the winter I adopted another plan. 
 Immediately after dinner I gave the key to my 
 maid, who double-locked and triple-bolted the 
 door; in this situation I remained alone and in 
 perfect tranquillity until eight o'clock at night. 
 Trude in the mean time would arrive, and not 
 finding any one at home, would retreat. Some- 
 times he would walk for a couple of hours in 
 the neighborhood, amidst rain or snow, to wait 
 for an opportunity to enter. To conceal my- 
 self when I was in company with any one was 
 almost impossible : absolutely to deny him en- 
 
of Madame Roland 311 
 
 trance, by determining my father to break with 
 him (which would have been difficult, because 
 he had no children, and my father therefore 
 thought proper to keep on good terms with 
 him), would have been to proceed to that ex- 
 tremity which his wife dreaded, would have dis- 
 solved our connection and exposed her to new 
 afflictions. 
 
 I do not know anything worse than to have 
 to deal with a fool : there is no other mode to 
 be taken with him but to bind him, for every- 
 thing else is useless. This loutish cousin was a 
 real plague to me, and it was the greatest proof 
 of my esteem for his wife, that I refrained from 
 throwing him out of the window — in which 
 case he would fiave re-entered by the garret. 
 Trude, however, was not destitute of a certain 
 kind of politeness: witless rather than brutal, 
 he knew how far he could carry his extravagance 
 with impunity; for never was his coarse conver- 
 sation indecent; and, although constantly at 
 variance with good sense and good manners, he 
 was never improper. 
 
 Whenever his wife came to walk with me, 
 he would watch us narrowly; and if- a man 
 happened to accost us or to bow to us he could 
 
312 Private Memoirs 
 
 not rest until he had ascertained who it was. 
 It may be supposed it was his wife he was jeal- 
 ous of, and to a certain extent this was true; 
 but he was much more so on my account. In 
 spite of the absurdities of the situation Madame 
 Trade's submissiveness was accompanied by 
 gayety; she would weep one day, and enter- 
 tain her friends the next ; once or twice in the 
 winter these little gatherings would be enliv- 
 ened with a dance. Her cousin was always 
 the heroine of these occasions, and her husband 
 would appear more amiable for some days 
 afterwards. I met at her house two persons 
 whom I shall here mention; the one was the 
 Ahh6 Bexon, a little, witty, hunchbacked man, 
 a great friend of Fran9ois de Neufchfiteau, and 
 Masson de Morvilliers. He was author of a 
 history of Lorraine, which did not prove very 
 successful; and his pen, like that of many 
 others, had been employed by Buffon to pre- 
 pare materials and sketches, to which he after- 
 wards gave the finishing touches and the coloring. 
 Bexon, supported by his protector Buffon, some 
 ladies of quality whose relations he had known 
 at Riremont (the place of his nativity), and a 
 chapter of noble canonesses, became precentor 
 
of Madame Roland 313 
 
 of the Sainte Chapelle at Paris. He took with 
 him his mother and sister, who would furnish 
 materials for an episode, had I inclination to 
 enter into any detail not necessarily connected 
 with the subject. 
 
 The poor creature died too soon for the wel- 
 fare of his tall sister, with her black eyes beg- 
 ging for adorers, and her beautiful shoulders, 
 which she loved to display. He visited me 
 twice at my father's, and was so transported to 
 find Xenophon in folio on my table,, that he 
 wished to embrace me in his ecstasy. As this 
 was not at all agreeable to me, I calmed him so 
 completely by my coolness, that he was content 
 to display his wit without his transports ; and I 
 never saw him afterwards but at my cousin-'s. 
 
 The other visitor was honest Gibert. Grave in 
 his morals, mild in his manners, married while 
 young to a woman who possessed more physi- 
 cal charms than sweetness, he had an only son 
 by her, whose education occupied his attention. 
 He was employed in the post-office, and con- 
 secrated a few leisure moments to music and 
 painting. 
 
 Gibert possessed all the characteristics of a 
 just and good man ; he has never altered. His 
 
314 Private Memoirs 
 
 faults proceed from lack of Judgment; friend- 
 ship with him is a species of fanaticism, and 
 one is tempted to respect his errors even while 
 complaining of them. Gibsrt had been con- 
 nected from his infancy with a man for whom 
 he professed as much veneration as attach- 
 ment; he vaunted his merit upon everj' occa- 
 sion, and he gloried in being his friend. He 
 was desirous of becoming acquainted with me ; 
 his wife and he called at my father's, and I re- 
 turned the visit ; and as they did not often go 
 out together, he came by himself from time to 
 time. I always received him with pleasure and 
 distinction, and in course of time we became 
 friends. It was not long before Gibert talked 
 to me of his Phoenix; he appeared as if he 
 could not be happy until his friends should 
 admire each other; at length, he brought us 
 together at his house. 
 
 I beheld a man whose excessive simplicity 
 bordered upon negligence ; speaking but little, 
 and not fixing the attention of any one, it 
 would have been difficult for a person who had 
 never heard of him before to form a proper 
 judgment upon a first interview; and I avow, 
 notwithstanding my liking for a modest deport- 
 
of Madame Roland 315 
 
 ment, that of this man was so humble that I- 
 would have readily taken any one's word for 
 it. However, as he was neither deficient in 
 judgment nor attainments, one had a greater 
 desire to be pleased when he chose to exhibit 
 them, and ended Hke Gibert in giving him 
 credit for more than he actually possessed. 
 His wife, a somewhat commonplace woman, 
 but not devoid of sense, always reminded me of 
 the intentique ora tenebant of Virgil, when she 
 heard her husband speak. He is not, however, 
 altogether an ordinary being, who knows how 
 to impose thus even upon those who are fa- 
 miliar with him, as to the extent of his real 
 merit. It is necessary that he should be great 
 in something, at least in dissimulation; and if 
 he were interested by circumstances to push 
 this as far as possible in important affairs, from 
 being a pretended sage who usurps our esteem 
 he might finally become a ruffian at the ex- 
 pense of his contemporaries. History will en- 
 able us to judge of this hereafter. I saw but 
 little of Gibert's friend ; he abandoned a lucra- 
 tive place, and even France, to live in Switzer- 
 land, whither he was carried by his passion for 
 a rural life and for liberty. Let him go; he 
 
3i6 Private Memoirs 
 
 will return but too soon. It was thus that I 
 became acquainted with Pache ; ^ for I may now 
 say that it is of him that I speak. It will be 
 seen how Gibert brought him to my house 
 more than ten years afterwards, and introduced 
 him to my husband, who deemed him a man 
 of uncommon probity. He announced him as 
 such at a time when his suffrage could confer 
 reputation; and he procured his entrance into 
 the administration, where he committed a 
 series of blunders which procured his appoint- 
 ment to the mayoralty; and there he sanc- 
 tioned those horrors of which the world now 
 knows. 
 
 Madame Trude earnestly desired to take a 
 journey to visit a relation whom she was fond 
 of; this meant an absence of a fortnight or 
 three weeks. Her husband deemed it incon- 
 venient that the shop should be so long deprived 
 of his representative ; however, her plan seemed 
 practicable, provided I consented to go there 
 sometimes, to occupy her place. My cousin 
 asked me to do so; to express such a wish, 
 was enough to make me think that I could not 
 
 ' Pache, later the Jacobin Mayor of Paris, who, on October 
 20, 1792, succeeded Servan as Minister of War. 
 
PACHB 
 
of Madame Roland 317 
 
 refuse ; and my friendship for her induced me 
 to comply without hesitation. 
 
 I accordingly repaired thither seven or eight 
 times, and stayed from noon until six o'clock in 
 the evening, in order to take Madame Trude's 
 place at the counter. Her husband, joyful and 
 proud, conducted himself admirably, attended 
 to his business outside, and appeared to be 
 sensible of the merit of my conduct. It was 
 thus decreed that in the course of my life, not- 
 withstanding my aversion to trade, I should at 
 least sell spectacles, and watch-glasses. The 
 situation was not pleasant ; Trude resided in the 
 rue Montmartre, not far from the rue Tiquetonne, 
 where his successor still lives. I am incapable 
 of imagining aftything so infernal as the noise 
 which the carriages eternally rolling about in 
 that neighborhood occasioned, in a shop entirely 
 open ; I should have become deaf, as my poor 
 cousin is at this day. 
 
 Let us leave her- unhappy house, of which 
 we shall see the fate, and return to my other 
 relation. 
 
 I visited Mademoiselle Desportes once or twice 
 every week, on the day when she received com- 
 pany. I should have many portraits to paint 
 
3 1 8 Private Memoirs 
 
 were the originals worth the trouble ; but were I 
 to portray a few counsellors of the Chitelet, such 
 as little Mopinot, pretending to an epigramma- 
 tic kind of wit; the devout la Presle, a good 
 man, who had no other fault than that of being 
 bilious and a Jansenist; a dowager who veiled 
 her love of pleasure under an easy piety, such 
 as Madame de Blancfun6; an old and rich 
 bachelor, too disgusting to be named ; a spruce 
 kind of person, reasoning and regulated like a 
 clock, such as the placeman Baudin; and a 
 crowd of, other individuals of varying humors 
 and little merit, I should throw away both my 
 colors and my time. I loved, however, to meet 
 Father Rabbe, a very shrewd member of the 
 oratory, respectable from his age, amiable from 
 the politeness of his conversation ; and Doctor 
 Coste, a physician of Provence, who amused 
 himself in imitating Perrault, without erecting 
 a Louvre, and who spoke ill of marriage, much 
 as the devil is said to make a wry face at the 
 sight of holy water. 
 
 Mademoiselle Desportes had inherited from 
 her mother pride and tact, the art of mending 
 her small fortune through commerce without 
 appearing to be engaged in it, and of treating 
 
of Madame Roland 319 
 
 on a footing of confidence and equality with 
 her rich and titled customers. But this mode 
 of dealing consorts ill with the spirit of trade, 
 which thrives by an active cupidity; so she 
 soon saw her inheritance diminishing, and she 
 ended by giving up the business and cutting 
 down her expenses. 
 
 Her character and manners and her evident 
 attachment to me made my mother wish me to 
 cultivate her acquaintance, and I often went to 
 her house. Piquet, gossip, and needlework 
 occupied the Uttle circle that gathered there; 
 and Mademoiselle Desportes often made me 
 take my seat at the card-table — as a discipline, 
 I suppose, in complaisance, for she knew the 
 amusement was not much to my taste. The 
 assistance of my partner and the permission to 
 laugh over my own absent-mindedness, made 
 the exercise less tedious. 
 
 I must now bring upon the stage in his turn 
 an old gentleman then just come from Pondi- 
 cherry whom I saw often and with pleasure 
 during nearly a year. My father had become 
 acquainted, I know not how, but I suppose 
 in the way of business, with a half-pay officer, 
 later a civil servant out of employment, named 
 
3 20 Private Memoirs 
 
 Demontchery. He was a man of thirty-six, 
 with polished manners and a winning air — with 
 those graces, in fine, which a knowledge of the 
 world confers, and which form perhaps the 
 flower of gallantry. Demontchery cultivated my 
 father's friendship, without paying court to my 
 mother, who might not have approved of his 
 advances. He frankly declared his regard for 
 me, and his ambition of soliciting my hand, 
 if fortune ceased to prove adverse to him. She 
 sent him straight to the East Indies, whence 
 he wrote to us and did not conceal his wishes 
 for that degree of success which would permit 
 him to return with a competence. But being 
 only a simple captain of Sepoys, and too honest 
 a man to think of acquiring anything, he was 
 not, I suppose, very far advanced in this pur- 
 suit, when he came home after seven years' 
 absence, and, hastening to my father's, learned 
 that I had been married a fortnight. I know 
 not what has become of him, or what he might 
 have inspired me with, had I thought of him. 
 During his residence at Pondicherry, he formed 
 an acquaintance with a M. de Sainte-Lette, one 
 of the members of the council, cmd intrusted 
 him with letters to my father, when the council 
 
of Madame Roland 321 
 
 deputed Sainte-Lette to Paris, in 1776, on some 
 important business. 
 
 Sainte-Lette was more than sixty years of 
 age ; he was a man whose vivacity and unruly 
 passions had led him astray in his youth, during 
 ■which he dissipated his fortune at Paris. He 
 had gone to America, and remained thirteen 
 years in Louisiana as superintendent of the 
 trade with the savages; thence he drifted to 
 Asia, and found employment in the administra- 
 tion at Pondicherry, where he endeavored to 
 acquire the means of living one day in France, 
 along with the friend of his youth, M. de S6ve- 
 linges, of whom I shall hereafter make mention. 
 A grave and solemn voice, distinguished by that 
 tone which experience and misfortune confer, 
 and sustained by the ready expression of a 
 well-informed mind, struck me at the first 
 interview with Sainte-Lette. Demontchery had 
 spoken to him about me ; it was this probably 
 that inspired him with the desire of forming 
 my acquaintance. My father received him gra- 
 ciously, and I with eagerness, because I soon 
 became much interested in his favor ; his soci- 
 ety was exceedingly agreeable, he sought after 
 mine, and during the whole of his stay he 
 
3 22 Private Memoirs 
 
 never let four or five days pass without visit- 
 ing me. 
 
 Those who have seen much are always worth 
 hearing; and those who have felt much have 
 always seen more than others, even if they have 
 travelled less than Sainte-Lette. He possessed 
 that kind of knowledge conferred far better by 
 experience than books ; less learned than philo- 
 sophical, he reasoned from the human heart; 
 he had retained from his youth a taste for the 
 lighter kinds of poetry, and had composed some 
 pretty verses. He presented me with several 
 of these performances; I communicated some 
 of my reveries to him, and he repeated to me 
 several times with a prophetical tone, that is 
 to say, with a full persuasion of the event: 
 " Mademoiselle, you are in the right to be on 
 your guard, for all this will end in your writ- 
 ing a book ! " 
 
 " It shall then be under another person's 
 name," I replied, " for I will eat my fingers 
 sooner than become an author." 
 
 Sainte-Lette met a person ^ at my father's 
 whom I had then been acquainted with dur- 
 ing several months, and who was destined to 
 ^ Roland now enters upon the scene. 
 
EOLAJSTD DB l^A. PliATIEKB 
 
of Madame Roland 323 
 
 have a powerful influence on my lot, although 
 I scarcely foresaw it at that period. I have 
 already observed that Sophie, though more 
 accustomed than myself to mingle in society, 
 was far from discovering any advantage in this 
 circumstance. She had sometimes spoken to 
 me of a man of merit who occasionally resided 
 at Amiens, and who often visited at her mother's 
 while there, which, however, was not very often, 
 because he came to Paris in the winter, and 
 often made still longer journeys in the spring. 
 She had mentioned him to me, because, amidst 
 the insignificant crowd with which she was sur- 
 rounded, she distinguished with pleasure an 
 individual whose instructive conversation ap- 
 peared to her full of novelty, whose austere but 
 unaffected manners inspired confidence, and 
 who, without being generally beloved (for his 
 severity, which sometimes approached harsh- 
 ness, was repellent to many), was nevertheless 
 universally respected. To him, it seems, Sophie 
 had already spoken of her friend ; there was 
 much talk, too, in her family of the constancy 
 of a certain girlish attachment formed in the 
 convent; finally, he had seen my portrait, 
 which Madame Cannet introduced in evidence. 
 
324 Private Memoirs 
 
 " Why, then," he used to say, " do you riot 
 make me acquainted with this dear friend? 
 I go to Paris every year. Why not entrust 
 me with a letter for her?" 
 
 He obtained the desired commission in Sep- 
 tember, 1775. I was then still in mourning for 
 my mother, and in that melancholy and sensi- 
 tive mood that succeeds violent grief. A mes- 
 senger from my Sophie could not fail to be well 
 received. 
 
 " This letter will be delivered," wrote my 
 friend, by the philosopher of whom I have 
 spoken, M. Roland de la Platiere, an en- 
 lightened man of pure morals, who can be 
 reproached with nothing save his preference 
 of the ancients over the moderns (whom he 
 despises) and his foible of being somewhat over- 
 fond of talking of himself." This sketch was 
 just and well-drawn, as far as it went. 
 
 I saw in our visitor a man past forty, of a 
 negligent air and that sort of stiflFness that 
 comes of studious habits ; but his address was 
 easy and direct, and though it lacked the polish 
 of the world, it joined the air of good birth to 
 the dignity of the philosopher. A face some- 
 what lean and sallow, a broad brow already but 
 
of Madame Roland 325 
 
 sparsely furnished with hair, regular features, 
 made up an ensemble that was imposing rather 
 than seductive. When Roland became animated 
 in conversation, or when he was inspired by a 
 specially agreeable idea, his subtle smile and 
 , animated face made him appear quite another 
 person. His voice was manly, and he spoke in 
 short sentences, like one whose respiration is 
 labored ; his discourse was full of matter, and 
 exercised the judgment more than it flattered the 
 ear; his speech was piquant at times, but harsh 
 and inharmonious in delivery. In my opinion, 
 the charms of the voice possess a rare but power- 
 ful effect over the senses ; this does not alone 
 appertain to the quality of the sound ; it results 
 still more from that delicacy of sentiment which 
 varies the expression and modifies the accent. 
 
 [They interrupt, to inform me that I am com- 
 prehended in Brissofs act of accusation} along 
 with many other deputies recently arrested. The 
 tyrants are at bay ; they think to fill up the pit 
 open before them, by precipitating worthy people 
 
 I Madame Roland was not, in fact, comprehended in this 
 document, but she was summoned as a witness. Her testi- 
 mony, however, was not taken, the enemies of the Gironde 
 doubtless dreading the appearance before the Tribunal of so 
 dauntless and outspoken an advocate. 
 
326 Private Memoirs 
 
 into it ; but they themselves will fall in after- 
 wards. I do not dread going to the scaffold in 
 such good company ; it is disgraceful to live in 
 the midst of ruffians. I shall send away this 
 section of my memoir, and prepare to proceed on 
 another, if I am permitted. 
 
 Friday, October 4, the birthday of my daugh- 
 ter, who on this day is twelve years of age.] 
 
 This subtle charm of the voice, entirely dis- 
 tinct from its force, is no more common among 
 the orators whose profession calls forth the exer- 
 cise of it, than in the crowd that composes soci- 
 ety. I have searched for it in our three national 
 assemblies, but have not found it perfect in any 
 one person ; Mirabeau himself, with the impos- 
 ing magic of a noble utterance, possessed neither 
 a winning voice nor a pronunciation the most 
 agreeable. The Clermonts approached nearer 
 to it. 
 
 " Where, then, was your model ? " some one 
 may ask. I shall answer, like that painter of 
 whom it was demanded whence he borrowed the 
 charming air with which he inspired the crea- 
 tions of his brush : " There, within," replied he, 
 putting his finger to his forehead. I shall place 
 
of Madame Roland 327 
 
 mine on my ears. I have frequented the thea- 
 tres but seldom; I think I have discovered, 
 however, that this accomphshment was seldom 
 to be found there. Larive, the only actor per- 
 haps worth citing, still left something to be 
 desired. 
 
 When, in my early youth, I experienced the 
 first promptings of the young woman's natural 
 desire to please, I was startled at the sound of 
 my own voice, and I found it necessary to modify 
 it, in order to please myself. I imagine that the 
 exquisite sensibility of the Greeks induced them 
 to set a high value on everything connected 
 with the art of speaking; I comprehend also, 
 that Sansculottism makes us disdain these 
 graces, and affect rather a rough brutality, 
 equally distant from the precision of the Spar- 
 tans in their language, so replete with sense, 
 and the eloquence of the amiable Athenians. 
 
 But we left Lablancherie some time ago at 
 Orleans; let us now make an end of this person- 
 age. On his return, a little after the death of 
 my mother, he learned of this event on coming to 
 see her, and manifested a degree of surprise 
 and grief that affected and pleased me. He 
 came afterwards to visit me ; I was pleased to see 
 
328 Private Memoirs 
 
 him. My father, who at first imposed upon 
 himself the task of remaining with me when 
 any one called, discovered that the office of a 
 duenna was not to his taste, and that it would 
 be more convenient for him to dismiss at the 
 outset every one not up to his standard, and 
 leave me to my maid and myself. He an- 
 nounced that he entertained thoughts of re- 
 questing Lablancherie not to return any more. 
 I did not say a single word in reply, although I 
 experienced some chagrin; I was occupied in 
 figuring to myself the feelings of the discarded 
 swain in consequence of this prohibition, and I 
 resolved to soften it for him by delivering the 
 injunction myself, for my father's temper made 
 me fear -that he would render it offensive. One 
 must tell the truth ; I was partial to Lablancherie, 
 and fancied that I could love him ; so far, it was 
 an affair of the head only, I believe ; but matters 
 were progressing. I wrote, therefore, a polite 
 letter conveying Lablancherie's dismissal, which 
 deprived him of all hope of replying to me, but 
 still left him free to think he was not altogether 
 indifferent to me — if there was aught of conso- 
 lation in that. 
 
 The ice once broken, this incident gave rise 
 
of Madame Roland 329 
 
 to melancholy and pleasing ideas, and my hap- 
 piness was not otherwise affected. Sophie came 
 to Paris ; she stayed some time with her mother 
 and her sister Henriette, who being now more 
 on a level with us in point of our acquired age 
 and sedateness, became also my dear friend. 
 The charms of her lively imagination shed their 
 radiance everywhere, and animated the ties which 
 she had formed. 
 
 I often repaired to the Luxembourg, with my 
 two friends and Mademoiselle d'Hangard; I 
 m6t Lablancherie there ; he saluted me respect- 
 fully, and I returned the salute with some 
 emotion. 
 
 "Then you know this gentleman?" said 
 Mademoiselle' d'Hangard, who had at first 
 imagined the salute intended for herself 
 
 " Yes ; and do not you ? " 
 
 "Oh! certainly; but I have never spoken 
 to him. I know the Mesdemoiselles Bordenave, 
 the younger of whom he asked in marriage." 
 
 "Is it long since?" 
 
 "A year, perhaps eighteen months; he had 
 found means to get himself introduced into the 
 house ; he went thither from time to time, and 
 at length offered himself. These young women 
 
330 Private Memoirs 
 
 are rich, the younger is handsome ; he has not a 
 sou, and is in search of an heiress, for he made 
 a similar demand in respect to another person of 
 their acquaintance, which they heard of. They 
 dismissed him ; we call him the lover of eleven 
 thousand virgins. How did you know him ? " 
 
 "By seeing him often at Madame Ldpine's 
 concert." And I at the same time bit my lips, 
 while I withheld the rest, greatly chagrined at 
 having fancied myself beloved by a man who 
 doubtless had solicited my hand merely because 
 I was an only daughter, and still more piqued 
 at having sent him a letter which he did not 
 deserve. Matter for meditation in order to 
 exercise my prudence at another opportunity ! 
 
 A few months had elapsed, when a little 
 Savoyard came one day to tell my maid that 
 some one wanted to speak to her, I know not 
 where: she went out, returned, and told me 
 that M. Lablancherie had begged her to entreat 
 me to see him. It was on a Sunday, and I 
 expected my relations. "Yes," I replied, "let 
 him come here immediately ; since he is waiting 
 for you near the house, go find him, and bring 
 him with you." Lablancherie arrived: I was 
 seated in a corner near the fire. 
 
of Madame Roland 331 
 
 " I did not dare, mademoiselle, to present 
 myself before you, after your prohibition ; I 
 was extremely desirous to speak to you, and 
 I cannot express what I felt in consequence of 
 the dear and cruel letter which you then ad- 
 dressed to me. My situation has altered since 
 that epoch; I have projects at present with 
 which you must not remain unacquainted." 
 
 He then unfolded to me the plan of a moral 
 and critical work, in epistolary form, after the 
 manner of the " Spectator," inviting me at the 
 same time to treat some subject in this way. 
 I allowed him to go on without interruption; 
 I even waited after he had made a little pause, 
 until he should have quite emptied his budget. 
 When he had said everything, I began in my 
 turn. I observed to him with frigid politeness 
 that I myself had taken the trouble to request 
 him to discontinue his visits, because the senti- 
 ments he had declared to my father respecting 
 me made me suppose that he wished to con- 
 tinue them, and I was desirous to demonstrate 
 my gratitude for this attention ; that at my time 
 of life the vivacity of the imagination mingles 
 itself with almost all affairs, and sometimes 
 changes the appearance of them; but that 
 
33 2 Private Memoirs 
 
 error was not a crime, and that I had recovered 
 from mine with too good a grace for me to 
 trouble myself any more on that subject ; that 
 I admired his literary projects, without wishing 
 to participate either in them or in those of any 
 one else ; that I confined myself to wishing for 
 the success of all the authors in the world, as 
 well as for his, of whatever kind they might be, 
 and that it was to tell him this I had consented 
 to see him, in order that he might thenceforth 
 avoid every similar attempt. After which I 
 begged him to terminate his visit. 
 
 Surprise, grief, agitation, everything proper 
 to such a situation, was about to be displayed. 
 I put a stop to this by observing to Lablancherie 
 that I was ignorant whether the Mesdemoiselles 
 Bordenave and others, to whom he had ad- 
 dressed himself nearly at the same time, had 
 expressed themselves in regard to him with an 
 equal degree of frankness, but that mine was 
 unbounded; and that the resolutions in con- 
 sequence did not admit of any explanation. 
 
 I rose at the same time, bowed, and made 
 that motion of the hand which indicates the door 
 to those whom we wish to dismiss. At this 
 moment my cousin Trude arrived; and never 
 
of Madame Roland 333 
 
 did I see his rude visage with more pleasure. 
 Lablancherie retreated in silence, and I saw him 
 no more ; but who has not since heard of " the 
 agent-general of the correspondence of the arts 
 and sciences ? " 
 
 He off the stage, let us return to Sainte- 
 Lette and Roland. 
 
 We had arrived at the close of the summer 
 of 1776. I had several times seen M. Roland 
 during the last eight or nine months. His 
 visits were not frequent, but they were not 
 short; just as the people who do not go out 
 merely on purpose to show themselves at some 
 place, but repair thither because being there 
 affords them pleasure, stay as long as they can. 
 His frank and instructive conversation never 
 wearied me ; and he loved to see himself listened 
 to with attention, which I knew well how to 
 bestow even upon people less informed than 
 himself. This trait has perhaps gained me more 
 friends than the faculty of delivering my own 
 sentiments with some readiness. 
 
 I had first got acquainted with him on his 
 return from Germany. He was then preparing 
 for a journey into Italy ; and, with that lauda- 
 ble love of method which characterized him, 
 
334 Private Memoirs 
 
 he had left his manuscripts with me, so that I 
 could take charge of them in case of any mis- 
 hap occurring to himself. I was sincerely aft 
 fected with this mark of esteem, and I received 
 it with thanks. 
 
 On the day of his departure he dined at my 
 father's with Sainte-Lette. On taking leave, 
 he requested permission to embrace me; and 
 I know not how, but this mark of politeness 
 always puts a young woman to the blush, even 
 when her imagination is tranquil. " You are 
 happy in departing," says Sainte-Lette to him, 
 with his grave and solemn voice ; " but make 
 haste to return, in order to ask for another." 
 
 During Sainte-Lette's stay in France, his 
 friend S^velinges became a widower. He re- 
 paired to him at Soissons, where he resided, 
 to share his grief, and brought him to Paris 
 in order to divert him. They visited me to- 
 gether. S^velinges was fifty-two years of age ; 
 he was a gentleman of small fortune ; he held 
 a place in the finances in the province, and 
 cultivated letters as a philosopher who knows 
 their charms. Having thus formed an ac- 
 quaintance with him, I maintained it afl:er the 
 departure of Sainte-Lette, who observed that 
 
of Madame Roland 335 
 
 he found some pleasure on leaving France, in 
 reflecting that his friend would not lose the 
 advantage of my society; he even asked per- 
 mission to transmit to him, in order to be 
 returned to me after a short delay, some manu- 
 ■Bcripts which I had communicated to him. 
 
 This interesting old man embarked perhaps 
 for the fifth or sixth time of his life. An ulcer 
 in his head, which he had already suffered from, 
 opened while at sea; and he arrived ill at 
 Pondicherry, where he died, six weeks after his 
 return. We heard of his death through Demont- 
 chery. S6velinges regretted him exceedingly. 
 He wrote to me from time to time ; and his let- 
 ters, equally abounding in agreeable description 
 and felicities of style, afforded me great pleasure. 
 They were tinged with that mild philosophy 
 and melancholy sensibility, for which I always 
 possessed a great inclination. I also have re- 
 marked what Diderot has said on this subject, 
 and with some justice, that great taste presup- 
 poses great sensibility, and a temperament in- 
 clined to melancholy. 
 
 My father, whose good disposition had altered 
 by degrees, objected to this display of talents 
 at such an expense of postage. I accordingly 
 
336 Private Memoirs 
 
 applied to my uncle, who authorized me to 
 cause the letters of S6velinges, whom he had 
 seen at our house, to be addressed to him. My 
 manuscripts were returned to me, accompanied 
 by some critical observations of which I was 
 exceedingly vain; for I had not supposed my 
 " works " worth examination. They were in my 
 own eyes reveries, sage enough, but trite, and 
 relating to things which it appeared to me that 
 every one must be acquainted with. I did not 
 think they possessed any other merit than the 
 singularity of having been composed by a 
 young girl. I long preserved the most perfect 
 indifference on my own account. The events 
 of the Revolution, the change of affairs, the 
 variety of my situations, the frequent compari- 
 sons with a great crowd, and with people dis- 
 tinguished for their merit, were all necessary, 
 in order to make me perceive that the. plane 
 on which I stood was not encumbered with 
 numbers. As to other points, and I hasten to 
 make the observation, this has rather proved to 
 me the mediocrity of my countrymen, than 
 inspired a high idea of myself. It is not abil- 
 ity that is wanting ; that may be found in the 
 streets: it is correctness of judgment, and 
 
of Madame Roland 337 
 
 strength of character. Without these two quali- 
 ties, however, I am unable to recognize what 
 may be termed a man. In truth Diogenes was 
 in the right to take a lantern ! But a revolu- 
 tion may serve instead of one: I do not 
 .know a better measure, or a more exact touch- 
 stone. 
 
 The Academy of Besangon had proposed the 
 following question as the subject of a prize 
 essay : " In what mariner can the education of 
 women contribute to make men better?" My 
 imagination took wings; I seized the pen and 
 dashed off a discourse, which I sent in anony- 
 mously, and which, as may be believed, was not 
 judged worthy of the reward. No one attained 
 this honor. The subject was proposed anew, 
 I have not learned with what result, during 
 the following year. But I recollect that, in 
 wishing to treat on this matter, I deemed it 
 absurd to determine on a mode of education 
 unconnected with general manners, which de- 
 pend on the government; and thought that we 
 ought not to pretend to reform one sex by the 
 other, but to ameliorate the species by means 
 of good laws. Accordingly I set forth what, 
 in my judgment, women ought to be; but I 
 
338 Private Memoirs 
 
 added, that it was impossible to render them 
 such unless. in consequence of a new order of 
 things. 
 
 This idea, certainly just and philosophical, 
 did not meet the aim of the Academy. I 
 reasoned on the problem instead of resolv- 
 ing it. 
 
 I transmitted a copy of this discourse to M. 
 de S6velinges, after having sent another to 
 Besangon. Sevelinges confined his remarks 
 solely to the style. My head had become cool ; 
 I discovered my work to be exceedingly de- 
 fective in the very foundation; and I amused 
 myself with criticising it as if it had been the 
 production of another at which I wished to 
 laugh heartily. This looks like tickling one's 
 self to create a laugh, or slapping one's face by 
 way of bringing color into the cheeks : but it 
 is assuredly impossible to laugh by one's self 
 with better inclination, or more innocence. 
 
 In return, Sevelinges communicated to me 
 an academical discourse after his own fashion, 
 on the faculty of speaking, which he had ad- 
 dressed to the Academy, and respecting which 
 d'Alembert had transmitted him a flattering 
 letter. There was, if I remember aright, much 
 
of Madame Roland 339 
 
 metaphysics and a little affectation in this 
 work. 
 
 Six months, a year, and more elapsed in this 
 correspondence, in the course of which, however, 
 a variety of different ideas were started. S6ve- 
 linges appeared at length to be unhappy on 
 account of my situation, and weary of living 
 by himself He made many reflections on the 
 charms of a thinking society; I deemed this 
 extremely valuable; we reasoned a long time 
 on the subject. I do not well know what came 
 into his head, but he at length took a journey 
 to Paris, and presented himself incognito at my 
 father's, as if upon business. What is most 
 diverting is, that I did not recollect him, al- 
 though it was I»myself who received him. But 
 the excessively mortified air with which he left 
 me awakened in my memory the idea of his 
 features. It occurred to me, after his departure, 
 that the unknown person resembled him greatly ; 
 and I was presently assured by his letters that 
 it was really himself. This singular occurrence 
 made a disagreeable impression on me, which I 
 do not know how to define. Our correspond- 
 ence slackened ; it at length ceased, as I shall 
 hereafter mention. 
 
340 Private Memoirs 
 
 I went sometimes to Vincennes : my uncle's 
 parsonage was very pretty, the walks were 
 charming, his society was agreeable; but al- 
 though he possessed the advantage of a house- 
 keeper in Mademoiselle d'Hannaches, he began 
 to find that he was obliged to pay for this by 
 submitting to all the ill humor and folly of an 
 old maid with great pretensions. 
 
 The castle of Vincennes was inhabited by a 
 number of persons lodged there by the court. 
 Here was an old censor-royal, Moreau de la 
 Garve ; there a feniale wit Madame de Puisieux ; 
 farther off a Countess de Laurencier; below, 
 the widow of an officer ; and so of the rest, with- 
 out reckoning the king's lieutenant, Rougemont, 
 whom Mirabeau has made known to the world, 
 and whose pimpled face, and stupid insolence 
 formed the most disgusting combination. A 
 company of Invalides, the wives of whose offi- 
 cers composed part of the society, formed along 
 with those I have reckoned, without count- 
 ing the prisoners in the dungeons, six hun- 
 dred inhabitants in the castle alone. My uncle 
 was welcome every^vhere, but he visited little 
 and saw few people at home. But in returning 
 from our evening walks we usually stopped at 
 
BAJiBAROUX 
 
of Madame Roland 341 
 
 the pavilion on the bridge belonging to the 
 park where the ladies assembled. There I 
 found new pictures to paint, if I had time. 
 But the hours have wings, and my task is long ; 
 so I must pass swiftly over many things. I 
 may, however, mention the balls in the allh dcs 
 Voleurs; the follies of Seguin, treasurer of the 
 Duke of Orleans, whose fite they celebrated with 
 illuminations, and who became a bankrupt soon 
 after; the forest rambles, and the lovely view 
 in the upper park beside the Marne, to gain 
 which we passed through a breach in the wall ; 
 those wooden figures of hermits, so picturesquely 
 placed in the church, where there was also a 
 picture as good in execution as it was gro- 
 tesque in subject, and which represented thou- 
 sands of devils who were engaged in tormenting 
 the damned in as many different ways; my 
 readings with my uncle, especially of the tra- 
 gedies of Voltaire ; our concerts after supper, 
 when, on the newly-cleared table, a pair of 
 muff boxes did duty as a music-stand for the 
 good Canon Bareux who (in spectacles) droned 
 away dismally on his bass-viol, while I scraped 
 the violin, and my uncle made a pretence of 
 accompanying us on his flute. Ah ! perhaps 
 
342 Private Memoirs 
 
 I may revisit some day those peaceful scenes, 
 if they permit me to live. But I must now 
 return in my narrative to Paris, — first, how- 
 ever, saying a word or two of a certain boaster 
 who had gained some reputation. . . } 
 
 1 See Madame Roland's foot-note on the following page. 
 
of Madame Roland 343 
 
 SKETCH 
 
 OF WHAT REMAINS TO BE NARRATED TO 
 SERVE AS A CLOSING SUPPLEMENT TO MY 
 PRIVATE MEMOIRS.! 
 
 nr^HE manuscripts which M. Roland left in 
 ••■ my care during the eighteen months he 
 passed in Italy, made me better acquainted 
 with him than frequent visits would have done. 
 They comprised travels, reflections, plans of 
 works, personal anecdotes ; and a strong mind, 
 incorruptible honesty, knowledge, and taste 
 were evinced throughout. 
 
 Born amidst opulence and of a family distin- 
 guished in the law for its probity, he had while 
 
 1 I ended my last chapter at Vincennes. I was about to 
 speak of Carricioli, whom I met at the Canon's, and whose 
 " Letters," signed " Ganganelli," have met with some success, 
 although they are largely repetitions of passages in the numer- 
 ous little books from his hand. But had I thus followed the 
 course of events, step by step, I should have undertaken a 
 work which I shall not be allowed to live long enough to 
 finish. Therefore I confine myself to a Sketch. 
 
344 Private Memoirs 
 
 still young seen its fortunes decline through 
 disorder on one side and extravagance on the 
 other. The youngest of five brothers, and like 
 them destined for the church, he had left home 
 at nineteen to avoid taking orders or engaging 
 in commerce, to which he was no less averse. 
 Arriving at Nantes he established himself there 
 with a ship-owner, to gain an insight into affairs 
 and with the view of going out to India. A 
 sudden hemorrhage, which forbade a long sea- 
 voyage, upset this plan. He repaired to Rouen, 
 where a relative, M. Goudinot, inspector of 
 manufactures, proposed to him to enter that 
 branch of the administration. He determined 
 to comply, and, soon distinguishing himself by 
 his activity and industry, at length found him- 
 self advantageously settled. 
 
 Travel and study divided his time and occu- 
 pied his life. Before setting out for Italy he 
 had brought to my father's his favorite brother, 
 a Benedictine, then prior of Clugny at Paris. 
 He was a gifted man of gentle manners and 
 amiable character. He came sometimes to see 
 me, and to read to me the notes his brother 
 had transmitted to him ; for as he travelled, he 
 committed his observations to paper. These 
 
of Madame Roland 345 
 
 are the notes which on his return he converted 
 into letters and caused to be published, en- 
 trusting the printing of them to some friends 
 at Dieppe, one of whom, enamored of Italian, 
 evinced his respect to the passages in that lan- 
 - guage, by multiplying them. This work, which 
 is replete with matter, only wants to be better 
 digested to hold the first rank of all books of 
 Italian travel.^ To issue a new and correct edi- 
 tion was one of our projects since our union ; 
 but I also wished to see Italy ; time and events 
 have carried us elsewhere. 
 
 On the return of M. Roland, I found a 
 friend; his gravity, his manners, his habits, 
 wholly consecrated to literary labors, made me 
 consider him as it were without sex, or as a 
 philosopher who existed by reason only. A 
 sort of confidence established itself between us ; 
 and in consequence of the pleasure which he 
 experienced in my company, he contracted by 
 degrees the desire of visiting me oftener than 
 before. It was near five years that I had been 
 
 ^ This book, published under the title " Letters written 
 from Switzerland, Italy, Sicily, and Malta in 1776, 1777, 1778," 
 is pronounced by Michelet the best one on its subject produced 
 in France during the eighteenth century. 
 
346 Private Memoirs 
 
 acquainted with him, when he made a declara- 
 tion of tender sentiments. I was not insensible 
 to this, because I esteemed his person more 
 than that of any other man I had hitherto 
 known, but I realized that neither he himself 
 nor his family were altogether suitable to me 
 or to mine in respect to external appearances. 
 I told him frankly that his courtship did me 
 honor, and that I would consent with pleasure, 
 but that I did not think myself a good match 
 for him ; I then disclosed to him without reserve 
 the state of our affairs : we were ruined. I had 
 saved, through demanding an account from my 
 father, at the risk of experiencing his hatred, 
 five hundred livres of yearly income, which, 
 with my wardrobe, formed the remnant of that 
 apparent affluence in which I had been brought 
 up. 
 
 My father was young; his errors might 
 induce him to contract debts which his inability 
 to discharge would render dishonorable: he 
 might make an unfortunate marriage, and add 
 to these evils children who would bear my 
 name in misery, etc. I was too proud to 
 expose myself to the ill-will of a family which 
 would not deem itself honored by my alliance. 
 
of Madame Roland 347 
 
 or to the generosity of a husband, who on 
 my part would find nothing but objects of 
 vexation; I advised M. Roland in the same 
 manner as a third person would have done, and 
 endeavored to dissuade him from thinking of 
 me. He persisted; I was affected, and I con- 
 sented that he should take the necessary steps 
 with my father ; but, preferring to express him- 
 self in writing, he was resolved to broach the 
 matter by letter on his return to the place of 
 his residence ; and during the remainder of his 
 stay in Paris we saw each other daily. I con- 
 sidered him as the being to whom I was about 
 to unite my destiny, and I became attached to 
 him. 
 
 As soon as he had returned to Amiens, he 
 wrote to my father to explain his wishes and 
 designs. My father found the letter dry; he 
 did not like M. Roland's stiffness, and liked ill 
 to have for his son-in-law an austere man, 
 whose looks appeared to him to be those of a 
 censor; he replied with harshness, imperti- 
 nence, and showed the whole to me, but not 
 until he had sent off his answer. I instantly 
 came to a resolution. I informed M. Roland, 
 that the event had but too well justified my 
 
348 Private Memoirs 
 
 fears in respect to my father ; that I would not 
 occasion him further mortifications, and I begged 
 him to abandon his project. I declared to my 
 father what his conduct had obliged me to do. 
 I added that after this, he need not be aston- 
 ished if I entered" into a new situation, and 
 retired to a convent. But as I knew he had 
 some pressing debts, I gave him the portion of 
 plate that appertained to me, to satisfy them; 
 I hired a little apartment at the Congregation, 
 and retreated thither, firmly resolved to limit 
 my wants by my means. I did so. 
 
 I could detail some interesting particulars 
 respecting a situation in which I began to call 
 forth the resources of a strong mind. I nicely 
 calculated my expenditure, laying aside some- 
 thing for presents to the servants of the house. 
 Potatoes, rice, and kidney-beans, stewed in a 
 pot with a few grains of salt and a bit of butter, 
 varied my food and my cookery, without con- 
 suming much of my time. I went out twice a 
 week, once to visit my old relations, and again 
 to repair to my father's, where I cast an eye 
 over his linen and carried away what wanted 
 mending. The rest of the time, inclosed with- 
 in my roof of snow, as I called it (for I lodged 
 
of Madame Roland 349 
 
 near to heaven, and it was winter), without 
 wishing to form any acquaintance with the 
 boarders, I resigned myself to study. I forti- 
 fied my heart against adversity by deserving 
 happiness, and I avenged myself on that for- 
 tune which refuses to grant it. The loving 
 Agathe spent half an hour with me every 
 evening; the sweet tears of friendship accom- 
 panied the effusions of her heart. A turn in 
 the garden during the hours when everybody 
 had retired, formed my solitary walk; the 
 resignation of a sage mind, the peace of a good 
 conscience, the elevation of a character that 
 defies misfortune, those laborious habits that 
 make the hours fly so swiftly away, that delicate 
 taste of a sound understanding which finds, in 
 the sentiments of existence and the idea of its 
 own value, indemnifications unknown to the 
 vulgar: such were my treasures. I was not 
 always free from melancholy; but this had its 
 charms ; and if I was not happy, I had within 
 my own bosom all that was necessary to be so ; 
 I could pride myself in knowing how to do 
 without what I wanted in other respects. 
 
 M. Roland, astonished and afflicted, continued 
 to write to me, as a man who did not cease to 
 
3 50 Private Memoirs 
 
 love me, but who had been hurt by the conduct 
 of my father : he returned at the end of five or 
 six months, and was inflamed at seeing me at 
 the grating, where I however retained the 
 countenance of prosperity. He wished me to 
 leave this inclosure, offered his hand to me 
 anew and pressed me through his brother the 
 Benedictine to accept it. I reflected profoundly 
 on what I ought to do. I did not dissemble 
 that a man less than forty-five years of age 
 would not have waited several months to try to 
 prevail upon me to change my resolution, and I 
 readily allowed that this idea had reduced my 
 sentiments to a state in which there was no 
 illusion. 
 
 I considered on the other hand, that this 
 off'er, so maturely reflected upon, ought to con- 
 vince me that I was respected, and that if 
 Roland had overcome his dread of the inciden- 
 tal vexations which my alliance might produce, 
 I was so much the more assured of an esteem, 
 which I should not have any difficulty in justi- 
 fying. In fine, if marriage was, as I believed it 
 to be, a stringent tie, an association in which 
 the wife usually charges herself with the happi- 
 ness of two individuals, would it not be better 
 
of Madame Roland 351 
 
 for me to exercise my faculties and my courage 
 in this honorable task, than in the retirement in 
 which I lived? 
 
 I , might here, I think, detail some very sage 
 reflections which determined my conduct; for 
 as yet I have not mentioned all those which the 
 circumstances could have suggested, but those 
 only which experience permits me to perceive. 
 ... At length ^ I became the wife of a man of 
 genuine worth, who loved me more in propor- 
 tion as his knowledge of me increased. Mar- 
 ried thus with my own full consent, I found 
 nothing to make me repent of the step ; I de- 
 voted myself to him with a zeal perhaps more 
 ardent than discreet. Considering only the 
 happiness of rhy partner, I saw that he lacked 
 something for the completion of mine. I have 
 not for a moment ceased to behold in my hus- 
 ■ band one of the most estimable of men, to 
 whom I deem it an honor to belong; but I 
 have often been sensible of a certain lack of 
 parity between us, and felt that the ascendency 
 of a somewhat masterful character, added to 
 twenty years of seniority, rendered one of these 
 superiorities too great. If we had lived in soli- 
 1 February 4, 1779. 
 
3 52 Private Memoirs 
 
 tude, I should have had many disagreeable 
 hours to pass; had we mingled much in the 
 world I might have been loved by some whose 
 affection, as I have learned, might touch me too 
 deeply ; I plunged, therefore, into work with my 
 husband — an excess which also had its- draw- 
 backs, since he soon grew so accustomed to 
 my aid as to be unable to dispense with it. 
 
 The first year of my marriage was spent at 
 Paris, whither Roland was called by the In- 
 tendants of Commerce, who wished to enact 
 new regulations of manufactures — measures 
 which he strenuously opposed as colliding with 
 those principles of freedom of trade which he 
 advocated. . He had printed the description of 
 certain processes, which he had drawn up for 
 the Academy ; and he revised his Italian manu- 
 scripts. I acted as his secretary and corrected 
 his proofs. I performed these tasks with a 
 humility that I cannot help smiling at when I 
 recollect it, and which was incongruous enough 
 in a mind so cultivated as mine ; but it pro- 
 ceeded from the heart. I revered my husband 
 so frankly that I supposed he knew everything 
 better than myself; and I so dreaded to see a 
 cloud upon his brow, and he was so set in his 
 
of Madame Roland 353 
 
 opinions, that it was not until long afterwards 
 that I gained assurance enough to contradict 
 him. 
 
 I was then taking a course in Botany and 
 Natural History; those were the recreations 
 yith which I relieved my labors as housewife 
 and secretary ; for, living in a hotel garni, since 
 our home was not at Paris, and perceiving that 
 my husband's delicate health did not accommo- 
 date itself to all kinds of cookery, I took it 
 upon myself to prepare such dishes as suited 
 him best. 
 
 We spent four years at Amiens, where I 
 acted as mother and nurse, without ceasing to 
 share the labors of my husband, who had un- 
 dertaken a considerable portion of the new 
 Encyclopaedia. We seldom quitted our study 
 but for a ramble in the suburbs. I formed a 
 herbarium of Picardy, and the study of aquatic 
 botany gave place to L'Art du Tourbier. His 
 frequent illnesses made me uneasy for Roland ; 
 my constant care of him had its results, and 
 this proved a new tie between us. He loved 
 me the more for my devotion, I him for the 
 services I had rendered. 
 
 He had met while in Italy a young man 
 23 
 
3 54 Private Memoirs 
 
 whose amiable disposition had greatly attracted 
 him, and who had returned with him to France, 
 where he had taken up the study of medicine, 
 and become our intimate friend. This was 
 Lanthenas, whom I should esteem more to-day, 
 had not the Revolution, that touchstone of 
 men, by pushing him forward upon the scene, 
 disclosed his mediocrity and feebleness of char- 
 acter. He had private virtues, without exterior 
 attractions ; he was perfectly suited to my hus- 
 band, and was deeply attached to us. I loved 
 him, treated him as a brother, and conferred 
 that name upon him. For a long time his de- 
 votion, his zeal for the right, did not flag. 
 During my husband's second ministry, his cour- 
 age, now first put to the proof, gave way before 
 the increasing storms of the Revolution. He 
 wished to steer safely between the two ex- 
 tremes of opinion ; his views assumed a new 
 tinge; too humane to sanction the ferocity of 
 the Mountain, he lacked courage to cast his lot 
 frankly with us. He affected to stand poised 
 between the Right, whose " passions " he de- 
 precated, and the Left, whose " excesses " he 
 could not approve ; he was less than nothing, 
 for he earned the contempt of both sides. 
 
of Madame Roland 355 
 
 During our stay at Amiens, Sophie was mar- 
 ried to the Chevalier de Gomicourt, who lived 
 en fermier on his estate six leagues from the 
 town. Henriette, who had been partial to 
 Roland, to whom her family had wished to see 
 her united, heartily approved of his preference 
 for me, thus showing the touching sincerity 
 that adorned her character and that generosity 
 of soul which makes her beloved. She married 
 the aged de Vouglans, a widower of seventy- 
 five, who had been advised by his confessor 
 and his physician to take another wife. Both 
 sisters are now widows. Sophie has again 
 grown devout; and her frail health causes ap- 
 prehension for a life so necessary to her two 
 fine children. Our essential disparity of tem- 
 perament and opinions and our long separation 
 have relaxed without altogether dissolving our 
 connection. The frank Henriette, impulsive 
 and warm-hearted as of old, has visited me in 
 my captivity, and would have taken my place, 
 to procure my safety. 
 
 Roland desired shortly after our marriage 
 that I should see these dear friends of mine as 
 little as possible. I complied with his wishes, 
 and I did not feel free to visit them until time 
 
356 Private Memoirs 
 
 had inspired him with confidence enough in 
 me to remove all uneasiness on the score of 
 rivalry in affection. It was ill-judged in him. 
 Marriage is a grave and solemn matter ; if you 
 deprive a woman of sensibility of the pleasures 
 of friendship with persons of her own sex, you 
 diminish an aliment necessary to her, and ex- 
 pose her to temptation. How many conse- 
 quences flow from this truth ! . . . 
 
 We repaired to the gMraliti of Lyons in 
 1784, settling at Villefranche on the paternal 
 estate of M. Roland, where his mother still 
 lived, together with his eldest brother, the canon 
 and counsellor. I might paint here a number 
 of pictures of the life and manners of a little 
 town and their influence; of the domestic jars 
 and vexations of a life spent with a woman ven- 
 erable through her years and terrible through 
 her temper, and with two brothers of whom the 
 younger had the passion of liberty, the elder 
 of dominion. 
 
 During two of the winter months we resided 
 at Lyons, which I know well, and of which I 
 could say much. A city superbly built and 
 situated, then flourishing in commerce and 
 manufactures, interesting through its antiqui- 
 
of Madame Roland 357 
 
 ties and collections, famed for riches of which 
 even the Emperor Joseph was envious, and 
 which constituted it so splendid a capital; to- 
 day a vast tomb of victims of a government a 
 hundredfold more atrocious than the despotism 
 upon whose ruins it is reared. 
 
 We went to the country in the autumn, and 
 on the death of my mother-in-law, Madame de 
 la Platiere, spent the greater part of the year 
 there. The Parish of Th6z6e, two leagues from 
 Villefranche, where the Clos de la Platiere is 
 situated, is arid of soil, but rich in vines and 
 woods ; it is the last vine-growing region before 
 the high mountains of Beaujolais. There my 
 simple tastes turned to the details of rural econ- 
 omy and benefactions; there I applied, for 
 the relief of my neighbors, my little stock of 
 medical lore; I became the physician of the 
 village, so much the more beloved because I 
 gave succor instead of levying tribute, while the 
 pleasure of being useful made my cares a labor 
 of love. 
 
 How' readily does the countryman open his 
 heart to the one who does him good ! I do 
 not pretend to say that these good folks felt 
 themselves bound to me, but they loved me; 
 
3^8 Private Memoirs 
 
 and my absence was always bewailed with 
 tears. I had many pleasant experiences, the 
 good women sometimes coming three or four 
 leagues for me, with a horse, to beg me to go 
 to the rescue of some sufferer who had been 
 given up by the doctor. In 1789 I saved from 
 death my husband, who had been stricken with 
 a painful malady from which the prescriptions 
 of the physicians would scarcely have saved 
 him but for my superintending care. I passed 
 twelve days without sleep, and six months in 
 the anxieties of a perilous convalescence, yet 
 I was not even once indisposed ; so much does 
 courage confer strength and augment our 
 activity. 
 
 The Revolution ensued and inflamed us; 
 friends of humanity, adorers of liberty, we be- 
 lieved that it would regenerate the species, and 
 destroy the disgraceful misery of that unfortu- 
 nate class at whose lot we had so often been 
 affected ; we received the intelligence with rap- 
 ture. Our opinions gave offence at Lyons to 
 many individuals, who, being habituated 'to com- 
 mercial calculations, could not conceive how 
 any one should be induced out of mere philoso- 
 phy, to provoke and applaud changes which 
 
of Madame Roland 359 
 
 could prove useful only to others. They be- 
 came from this idea alone the enemies of M. 
 Roland; thenceforward others prized him the 
 more. He was made a member of the munici- 
 pality on its first formation ; he distinguished 
 himself by his inflexible justice ; he was feared, 
 and calumny on one side took the field, while 
 on the other, affection or impartiality defended 
 him. 
 
 Deputed in the interests of that city to the 
 Constituent Assembly, he repaired to Paris ; we 
 passed nearly a year there. I have mentioned 
 elsewhere how we became acquainted with cer- 
 tain members of that Assembly, and connected 
 ourselves naturally with those who, like us, did 
 not love hberty on their own account, but hers, 
 and who with us at present partake the lot com- 
 mon to almost all her founders and to humanity's 
 true friends, such as Dion, Socrates, Phocion, 
 and so many others of antiquity, and Barneveldt 
 and Sidney in modern times. 
 
 My husband had induced me to visit Eng- 
 land in 1784, and Switzerland in 1787. I have 
 known many interesting personages in those 
 two countries; we kept up a correspondence 
 with several. I have again heard within less 
 
360 Private Memoirs 
 
 than a year from Lavater,^ that celebrated pas- 
 tor of Zurich, known by his writings, his brilliant 
 imagination, his affectionate heart, and the purity 
 of his morals. The homest and learned Gosse of 
 Geneva will assuredly sigh at the persecution 
 we experience. I know not what has become 
 of the able Dezach, lately occupied in travel- 
 ling through Germany, and formerly professor 
 at Vienna, whom I often saw at London. Ro- 
 land tilted with him at the house of Banks, the 
 president of the Royal Society, where he as- 
 sembles the learned of his own country, and 
 the , foreigners residing in London. 
 
 I experienced during my travels that pleasure 
 and advantage which result from the company 
 of a man already conversant with the places 
 visited, and I remarked on and communicated 
 to paper those circumstances that made the 
 greatest impression. I also visited several parts 
 of France: the Revolution has prevented our 
 travels in the southern districts, and the jour- 
 ney to Italy, of which I entertained the desire 
 and the hope. 
 
 ' Lavater, it is recorded, on meeting Roland at Zurich, 
 warmly exclaimed, " You reconcile me, monsieur, to French 
 travellers." 
 
BXJZOT 
 
 FKOU THE POKTBAXT WOKBT BV MdX>AMS ROX<ANX> IN PKJLSON 
 
of Madame Roland 361 
 
 Engrossed by public affairs, they occupied all 
 our ideas ; they have swallowed up all our pro- 
 jects; we resigned ourselves wholly to the 
 passion of serving our country. It has been 
 seen in the former part (First Administration) ^ 
 Jiow Roland was called to the ministry, as it were 
 without his own knowledge ; and his public con- 
 duct cannot fail to demonstrate to impartial pos- 
 terity his disinterestedness, his attainments, and 
 his virtues. 
 
 My father, whom we had no reason to praise, 
 neither contracted a marriage, nor any other 
 very burdensome engagement ; we paid his few 
 debts, settled upon him an annuity, and pre- 
 vailed on him to retire from business. In spite 
 of the troubles his errors had brought upon 
 him (and they had occasioned among other 
 things the dissipation of my grandmother's 
 small property), and although he had every 
 reason to applaud our proceedings, he was 
 nevertheless too proud not to chafe at being 
 thus indebted to us. This state of irritation, 
 rooted in self-love, prevented him sometimes 
 from being just even to those who aimed only 
 at making him happy; he died, upwards of 
 ' Madame Roland refers to her " Historical Notes." 
 
362 
 
 Private Memoirs 
 
 sixty years of age, during the severe winter of 
 1787-8, in consequence of a catarrh with which 
 he had been long troubled. 
 
 My dear uncle expired atVincennes, in 1789; 
 soon after this, we also lost the dearly beloved 
 brother of my husband. He made the tour of 
 Switzerland in company with us, and had be- 
 come prior and rector of Longpont; he was 
 chosen an elector of his canton, where he 
 preached liberty, as he practised the evangeli- 
 cal virtues; the lawyer and physician of his 
 parishioners, and too wise for a monk, he was 
 persecuted by the ambitious of his own order, 
 and suffered greatly from their persecutions, 
 which accelerated his death. Thus everywhere, 
 and in all times, the good succumb ; they have 
 therefore another world in which they are to 
 revive, and in which they will not suffer the 
 penalty attached to being born in this. 
 
 Blind calumniators ! follow Roland close, sift 
 his life, analyze mine; consult the societies in 
 which we have lived, the towns where we have 
 resided, the country, in which there is no 
 dissimulation; examine . . . The more nearly 
 you survey us the more you will be vexed; 
 that is why you wish to annihilate us. 
 
of Madame Roland 363 
 
 Roland has been reproached with soliciting 
 letters of nobility: behold the truth. His 
 family long possessed its privileges, in conse- 
 quence of employments, which however did not 
 render them hereditary, and the opulence which 
 supported its attributes — coats of arms, chapel, 
 livery, fief, etc. This opulence disappeared ; it 
 was succeeded by a genteel mediocrity, and 
 Roland had the prospect of ending his days 
 in a domain, the sole one remaining in his 
 family, and which still appertains to his elder 
 brother. He thought that he possessed a right, 
 in consequence of his labors, to insure to his 
 descendants an advantage which his ancestors 
 had enjoyed, and which he would have dis- 
 dained to purchase. 
 
 In consequence of this, he presented his 
 claims in order to obtain letters recognising 
 his nobility, or ennobling him. This was at 
 the conimencement of 1784; I do not know the 
 man who at that epoch, and in his situation, 
 would have deemed it discreditable to have 
 done as much. I repaired to Paris, and soon 
 saw that the new superintendents of commerce, 
 jealous of his seniority in a branch of the ad- 
 ministration he was better acquainted with thap 
 
364 Private Memoirs 
 
 themselves, and opposing him in opinions rela- 
 tive to the liberty of commerce which he de- 
 fended with vigor, while they gave him the 
 requisite attestations respecting his labors, which 
 indeed they could not refuse, did not display 
 that zeal which insures success. I thought best 
 therefore to abandon the project; and I pushed 
 my suit no further. It was then that, learning 
 the changes of which I have made mention in 
 the curious article of Lazowski, I demanded and 
 obtained the removal of Roland to Lyons, which 
 brought him nearer to his family, and to a place 
 where I knew that he would at length be desir- 
 ous to retire. Patriots of the day, who stood 
 in need of the Revolution to become some- 
 thing, adduce your labors, and dare to com- 
 pare them. 
 
 Thirteen years spent in different places, in 
 unremitting toil, with connections extremely 
 varied, and of which the latter part appertains 
 so particularly to the history of the day, would 
 furnish materials for the fourth and most 
 interesting section of my " Memoirs." The de- 
 tached pieces which will be found in my " Por- 
 traits and Anecdotes," will serve in its stead. I 
 know not any longer how to guide my pen 
 
of Madame Roland 365 
 
 amidst the horrors that devour my country : I 
 cannot live above its ruins ; I choose rather to 
 bury myself under them. Nature, open thy 
 bosom ! 
 
 At thirty-nine years of age. 
 
366 Private Memoirs 
 
 DETACHED NOTES 
 
 IF I had been permitted to live, I should 
 have been actuated but by one desire : this 
 would have been to draw up the annals of the 
 age, and become the Macaulay ^ of my country. 
 I have been seized in my prison with a real 
 passion for Tacitus : I cannot now sleep without 
 having read some passages of his works. It 
 appears to me that we see things in the same 
 hght; and with time, and on a subject equally 
 rich, it might not have been impossible for me 
 to imitate him. 
 
 I am very sorry to have lost, along with my 
 " Historical Notes," a certain letter which I 
 wrote to Garat on the sixth of June. On his 
 being intrusted with my protestations against 
 my detention, he sent me in return a flattering 
 letter of four pages, in which he expressed all 
 
 ^ Catharine Macaulay, who died in 1791, and whose " His- 
 tory of England" Madame Roland seems to have much 
 admired. 
 
of Madame Roland 367 
 
 his esteem, grief, etc. He at the same time 
 treated of public affairs, and strove to impute 
 their own ruin to the twenty-two, as if they had 
 acted and spoken in the Assembly in a manner 
 little conformable to the interests of the common- 
 wealth. I urged cogent arguments to Garat in 
 reply, the harsh expression of which I regret : 
 I depicted to him his own conduct as the off- 
 spring of that pusillanimity to which I attri- 
 bute our evils — a weakness shared by a timid 
 majority that obeyed only the impulse of its 
 own fear. I demonstrated to him that he and 
 Bar^re were calculated to ruin all the states in 
 the world and dishonor themselves by their 
 indirection. 
 
 I have never been able to prevail upon myself 
 to discuss the silly declamations of this pack of 
 dunces against what they term the " passions " 
 of the Right. Men of probity, firm in their 
 principles, and penetrated with a just indigna- 
 tion against crimes, forcibly exert themselves in 
 opposition to the perversity of a few ruffians 
 and the atrocious measures which they dictate ; 
 and these eunuchs in politics reproach them 
 with speaking too warmly ! 
 
 Roland has been blamed for leaving the min- 
 
368 Private Memoirs 
 
 istry, after declaring that he would brave every 
 storm. They have not discerned that it was 
 necessary for him to show his own resolution 
 that he might encourage the feeble, and that it 
 was thus that he encouraged them on the sixth 
 of January; but the sentence of Louis XVI., 
 pronounced on the eighteenth, demonstrated 
 the minority of wise men and the loss of their 
 dominance in the convention. There was no 
 longer any hope of support in that body, and 
 he withdrew rather than be the accomplice of 
 folly. 
 
 Truly, Roland hated tyranny, and he believed 
 Louis guilty; but he wished to insure liberty, 
 and he believed it lost when bad men had 
 gained the ascendency. He is but too well 
 justified, as are those whom they are to-day 
 conducting to death ! ^ This I think I have 
 demonstrated in my narrative of the Second 
 Administration of Roland.^ His leaving the 
 government was the signal of its downfall, as 
 he had himself foreseen. 
 
 My poor Agathe ! she has flown from her 
 
 1 October 31, 1793, ^^^ ^^Y °^ '^^ Girondists' execution. 
 The lines above were thus penned within eight days of the 
 writer's own death on the scaffold. 
 
 ^ " Historical Notes." 
 
of Madame Roland 369 
 
 cloister without ceasing to be a mourning dove ; 
 for she weeps now for her " daughter," as she 
 calls me. Alas, there are many persons whose 
 fortunes might have been interwoven in the 
 continuation of my story: that good cousin 
 Desportes who died at the age of fifty, after 
 many sorrows ; the little cousin Trude, now liv- 
 ing in the country; my faithful old servant, 
 " Mignonne," who died at my father's, passing 
 away in my arms with the utmost serenity, and 
 saying with her last breath : " Mademoiselle, I 
 have never begged but one thing of heaven : it 
 was to die with you ; and now I am content." 
 
 24 
 
370 Private Memoirs 
 
 MADAME ROLAND'S FAREWELL 
 {From her " Dernieres Pensees " ) 
 
 . . Farewell, my dear child, my worthy hus- 
 band, my faithful servant, and my good friends ; 
 farewell, thou sun, whose resplendent beams 
 used to shed serenity over my soul while they 
 recalled it to the skies; farewell, ye solitary 
 fields whose sight has so often called forth soft 
 emotions; and you, ye rustic inhabitants of 
 Th6z6e, who were wont to bless my presence, 
 whom I attended in sickness, whose toil I light- 
 ened, and whose penury I relieved, farewell; 
 farewell peaceful retreats, where I have enriched 
 my mind with moral truths, and learnt in the 
 stillness of meditation to govern my passions 
 and to despise the vanity of the world. 
 
 EDITOR'S NOTE 
 
 Madame Roland's recital was cut short and her fate 
 was foreshadowed by her removal, on Nov. i, to the 
 Conciergerie. At the examination of the witnesses 
 
of Madame Roland 371 
 
 against her oh the two following days little was elic- 
 ited beyond the already familiar fact that the Giron- 
 dins were her friends and had frequented her house. 
 To lend a show of legality to her condemnation it 
 was necessary to adduce evidence connecting her 
 with the armed uprisings in the Departments that 
 had followed the expulsion of the Girondins from the 
 Convention. Such evidence was alleged by the pub- 
 lic accuser to be contained in certain letters and 
 written messages that had passed between her and 
 the fugitive deputies Barbaroux and Buzot, who were 
 stirring up resistance to the Jacobin rule at Caen. 
 As a matter of fact, the passages from the letters cited 
 in court, While they implied Madame Roland's ap- 
 proval of the attempts at Caen and elsewhere to 
 foment a Departmental revolt against the Moun- 
 tain, were essentially nothing more than general ex- 
 pressions of mutual sympathy and regard between 
 friends in misfortune. But the Indictment declared 
 that : " After the contents of said letters, there can be 
 no doubt that the above wife of Roland was one of 
 the principal aiders and abettors of the conspiracy." 
 The fact that the wife of Roland was a helpless pris- 
 oner in Sainte Pelagie at the time when the letters 
 were written did not count in the opinion of a court 
 bent on the destruction of a political foe ; and a ver- 
 dict was promptly found in accord with the demands 
 of the Indictment. The death warrant set forth and 
 decreed : 
 
37 2 Private Memoirs 
 
 " That there has existed a horrible conspiracy against 
 the unity and indivisibility of the Republic, the liberty and 
 safety of the French people. 
 
 " That Marie Jeanne Phlipon, wife of Jean Marie Ro- 
 land, is convicted of being one of the aiders or accomplices 
 of that conspiracy. 
 
 " That the Tribunal, after having heard the public ac- 
 cuser deliver his reasons concerning the application of 
 the law, condemns Marie Jeanne Phlipon, wife of Jean 
 Marie Roland, ex-minister, to the punishment of death, 
 in conformity with the law of Dec. i6, 1792, which has 
 been read, and which is conceived in these terms : ' The 
 National Convention decrees, that whoever shall propose 
 or attempt to destroy the unity of the French Republic, 
 or to detach its integral parts in order to unite them to a 
 foreign territory, shall be punished with death.' " 
 
 "Such," said Bosc, Madame Roland's friend and 
 literary trustee, " was the sentence that sent to the 
 scaffold, at thirty-nine years of age, a woman whose 
 energetic disposition, feeling heart, and cultivated 
 mind, rendered her the delight of all who knew 
 her. . . . Citizeness Roland did not at the end de- 
 ceive the expectation of her friends. She went to 
 the guillotine with all the serenity of a lofty mind 
 superior to the idea of death, and possessing suffi- 
 cient powers to overcome the natural horror of 
 dissolution." 
 
 Madame Roland's execution must be regarded as 
 an act of political vengeance, pure and simple. For 
 an account of her imprisonment, her last days, and 
 
of Madame Roland 373 
 
 her bearing in the hour of supreme trial, the reader 
 is referred to the Introduction to this voUime. 
 
 Roland refused to long survive his wife. When 
 the news of her death reached him, he left his hid- 
 ing-place at Rouen, and set out on foot for Paris, 
 with the intention of appearing before the Conven- 
 tion, denouncing its misdeeds, and securing a release 
 from his sorrows on the scaffold. But, on reaching 
 Baudoin, four leagues from Rouen, his strength failed 
 him, or his purpose changed. Turning aside from 
 the highway, the stricken old man entered an avenue 
 leading to a private house, and there, at the foot of a 
 tree, drew the blade from his sword-cane, and stabbed 
 himself to the heart. On his body was found this 
 writing : 
 
 " Whoever thou art that findest me lying here, respect 
 my remains. They are those of a man who devoted his 
 life to useful works, and who has died as he lived, vir- 
 tuous and honest. . . . Not fear, but indignation made 
 me quit my retreat, on learning that my wife had been 
 murdered. I did not choose to remain longer in a land 
 polluted with crimes." 
 
 Even more tragic was the fate of Buzot, the man 
 whom (as the world now knows) Madame Roland 
 loved, and who was the long mysterious object of 
 that exalted and passionate farewell addressed in her 
 last writings to one " I dare not name, to one whom 
 the most terrible of passions has not induced to over- 
 step the barriers of virtue." Buzot, tracked from 
 
374 Private Memoirs 
 
 place to place by the Jacobin emissaries, after the 
 triumph of the Convention, came finally to Saint 
 Emilion, where, with Potion, he lay for three months 
 in hiding. But the Bordeaux authorities, roused to 
 sudden vigilance, were soon hot on the trail of the 
 outlaws, and they were once more forced to take to 
 the open country. What they did and suffered dur- 
 ing that last flight is not known ; but after a few days 
 the body of Buzot was found, beside that of Potion, 
 in a wheat-field, half-eaten by wolves. 
 
 Thus perished the last and youngest of the un- 
 happy trio of political dreamers, victims of the Revo- 
 lution which they and their friends had helped to 
 found, sought to purify, and were unable to controL 
 
PETION 
 
Index 
 
 Abbadie, 148. 
 
 Abbaye, prison of the, 20, 37. 
 
 Agathe, Sister or "Sainte," nun 
 of the Congregation, her devo- 
 tion to Madame Roland, 96- 
 looj 138, 195, 259, 260, 262, 
 349, 36S. 
 
 America, Madame Roland's wish 
 for an asylum in, 86. 
 
 Amyot, Jacques, his "Plutarch," 
 14. 
 
 Andr6, PSre, his metaphysics, 
 142. 
 
 Ang^lique (Mademoisellf Rotis- 
 set), aunt of Madame Roland, 
 103, 104, 121, 129. 
 
 Appian, "Civil Wars " of, 60. 
 
 Aristides, 160. 
 
 Athens, reflections on, t6o. 
 
 Augustine, Saint, manual of, 1 18 ; 
 286. 
 
 B. 
 
 Back, Baron de, musicale of, 220. 
 Baillet, Andr^, his Life of Des- 
 cartes, 142. 
 Ballexserd, Genevese author, 191, 
 
 Banks, Sir J., President of Royal 
 
 Society, 360. 
 . Bannier, Abb6, 142. 
 
 Barbaroux, Girondin deputy, at 
 
 Caen, 371. 
 Bareux, Canon, 341. 
 Barneveldt, 359. 
 Barre, Mademoiselle de la, 246, 
 
 250. 
 Bayle, Pierre, 295. 
 Beauregard, Abb(S de, popular 
 
 preacher, 289, 290, 
 Belloy, 192. 
 
 Benoit, Madame, 214; 217-219. 
 Bergier, Abb^,' 148. 
 Bern! Abb6, 209. 
 Berruyer, 142. 
 Besangon, Academy of, Madame 
 
 Roland competes for prize 
 
 offered by, 337-338 
 Besnard, M., 199, 200, 20T, 202, 
 
 265. 
 Besnard, Madame, 42, 119, 120, 
 
 199, 200, 201. 
 Besplas, Abbfe, 297. 
 Bexon, Abbe, 312-313. 
 Beugnot, Comte, quoted, 29, 31, 
 
 32- 
 
 Biblioth^que Nationale, Madame 
 Roland's MS. now in, 26. 
 
 Bimont, Marguerite, mother of 
 Madame Roland, introduced and 
 described, 41 ; death of, 265. 
 
 Bimont, Madame, grandmother of 
 Madame Roland, 58 ; death of, 
 >3S- 
 
376 
 
 Index 
 
 Bimont, Abbfi, 59, 68, 136, 157, 
 159, 287; death of, 362. 
 
 Bitaub6, his poem of Joseph, 142. 
 
 Blair, sermons of, 288. 
 
 Boismorel, Madame de, 103; 
 visit to, 121-126; 127, 129,137, 
 159, 294. 
 
 Boismorel, M. de, 127, 129, 290, 
 291, 292, 293, 295-306. 
 
 Bosc, friend, correspondent, and 
 literary trustee of Madame 
 Koland, 23, 25,28; quoted, 372. 
 
 Bossuet, controversial writings of, 
 118; 142, 286. 
 
 Bouchaud, Madame, concierge at 
 Sainte P^lagie, 22, 23, 24. 
 
 Bourdaloue, 286, 287. 
 
 Brion, the Councillor, 124. 
 
 Brissot, Girondin deputy, 111,325. 
 
 Brunetike, M. Ferdinand, epi- 
 gram of on the French Revolu- 
 tion, 13. 
 
 Brutus, apostrophe to, 107. 
 
 Buffon, his Natural History, 75 ; 
 169, 312. 
 
 Burlamaqui, 143. 
 
 Buzot, Girondin deputy, at Caen, 
 371 ; death of, 373-374. 
 
 C. 
 
 Cajon, music-master, 52, 131, 140. 
 
 Calonne, Controller General, 206. 
 
 Cannet, M., 192. 
 
 Cannet, Madame, 323. 
 
 Cannet, Henriette, 93, 96 ; mar- 
 riage of and devotion of, 355. 
 
 Cannet, Sophie, intimate friend 
 and correspondent of Madame 
 Roland, 92-95; 104, 140, 141, 
 171, 172. 187, 190, 267, 305, 
 323, 324; marries the Cheva- 
 lier de Gomicourt, 355. 
 
 Carricioli, author, 343. 
 
 Catinat, La Harpe's eulogy on, 
 29S ; 299. 
 
 Cato, 17. 
 
 Cerceau, Father de, poems of, 98. 
 
 Chabot, Frangois, ex-Capucin and 
 Jacobin deputy, 112. 
 
 Champagneux, journalist, friend 
 of Madame Roland and first 
 custodian of her papers, 24-25. 
 
 Charbonn^, Madame, her disap- 
 proval of "Candide," 66. 
 
 Chauveau-Lagarde, avocai, his 
 offer to defend Madame Roland, 
 30-71. 
 
 Cicero, 167. 
 
 Clarke, Madame Roland studies 
 the works of, 148. 
 
 Cleomenes, 193. 
 
 Commune of Paris, 21. 
 
 Conciergerie, prison of, 21, 28. 
 
 Condillac, 142. 
 
 Congregation, convent of the, 
 Madame Roland enters as pu- 
 pil, 78 ; Madame Roland leaves, 
 101-104;/^/^ at, 13S-140; Mad- 
 ame Roland seeks refuge at, 348. 
 
 Corday, Charlotte, 14, 111. 
 
 Cordeliers, society of the, 115. 
 
 Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi, 
 
 193- 
 Cossonnike, Mademoiselle de la, 
 
 216. 
 Coste, Dr., 318. 
 Courson, apprentice of M. Phli- 
 
 pon, books of, secretly borrowed 
 
 by Madame Roland, 63. 
 Cr6bilIon, his " Pfere de Famille," 
 
 187. 
 Creusy, Boyard de, 220. 
 Cromwell, Madame Roland reads 
 
 a life of, 209. 
 Custine, General, 111, 115. 
 
Index 
 
 377 
 
 D. 
 
 Dabreuil, suitor of Madame Ro- 
 land, 231. 
 
 Daciei, his translation of Plu- 
 tarch, 14. 
 
 D'Alembert, 297. 
 
 Danton, r6, 208. 
 
 D'Argens, Marquis, 149, 210. 
 
 D'Argens, Madame, 231. 
 
 Belille, Abb6, his translation of 
 the "Georgics," 306. 
 
 Delolme, 194. 
 
 Delorme, suitor of Madame Ro- 
 land, 231. 
 
 Delpeche, dramatist, 216. 
 
 Demontchery, suitor of Madame 
 Roland, 320, 321, 335. 
 
 De Pauw, 2S6. 
 
 Descartes, 155. 
 
 Desmarteau, engraver, 191. 
 
 Desmoulins, Camille, 153. 
 
 Desportes, Madame, 239, 240,241. 
 
 Desportes, Mademoiselle, 242, 
 246, 248, 249, 317, 318, 319, 
 369- 
 
 Diderot, 149, 335. 
 
 Dillon, 112. 
 
 Dion, 359. 
 
 Diogenes, 337. 
 
 ""Don Quixote," romance of, 142, 
 
 "Doucet" (M. Marchand), tutor 
 of Madame Roland, 51, 70, 133. 
 
 Duport, musician, 214. 
 
 E. 
 
 £lis6e, Father, 288. 
 England, Madame Roland's visit 
 to. 359- 
 
 Favi&res, Madame de, 103, 129, 
 30', 307- 
 
 Favi^res, M. de, 303. 
 Favonius, 24. 
 F^nelon, 64, 67. 
 Fl^chier, 286. 
 Fleury, Abb^, 142. 
 Floquet, composer, 221. 
 Folard, the Chevalier de, 142. 
 Fouquier-Tiaville, 30. 
 
 G. 
 
 Garat, Minister of the Interior, 
 48 ; 366-367. 
 
 Garat, rector of St. Bartholomew, 
 48, 84. 
 
 Gardanne, Dr., his courtship of 
 Madame Roland, 239-250. 
 
 Garve, Moreau de la, censor- 
 royal, 340. 
 
 Gauchat, Abb£, 148. 
 
 Gensonn6, Girondin deputy, in. 
 
 Gertrude, Sister, nun of the Con- 
 gregation, 98. 
 
 G^ry, Abb6, Jesuitical advances of, 
 116-117. 
 
 Gibert, friend of Fache, 313-316. 
 
 Girondins, the, their enthusiasm 
 for classic times and worthies, 
 13 f 17, 20, 30 ; execution of, 
 368. 
 
 Gracchi, the, 193, 
 
 Grammont, Duchesse de, quoted, 
 29. 
 
 Grand, Abb6 le, 167-168. 
 
 Greece, reflections on, 160. 
 
 Gu6rin, musician, 214. 
 
 Guibal, painter, anecdote of, 46. 
 
 H. 
 
 Hangard, Mademoiselle d', 186, 
 
 187, 329. 
 Hannache, Mademoiselle d', sa- 
 
378 
 
 Index 
 
 tirical account of, 135-137 ; visit 
 of to Versailles, 1 57-1 58 ; 340. 
 
 Haudry, fermier-generatf 200, 
 204. 
 
 Haudry, the younger, 200, 206, 
 207. 
 
 Hubert, iii. 
 
 *' H^loise," thCj of Rousseau, 272. 
 
 Helvetius, doctrine of, 156, 210. 
 
 Henriot, General, career of, 113. 
 
 " Historical Notes," Madame Ro- 
 land's, 21, 24, 25, 26 ; 37-38. 
 
 I. 
 
 Imbert, author of "Judgment of 
 Paris," 216, 217, 219. 
 
 Jnrdin du I?ai, gi, 100, 
 Jardin des Plantes^ 23, 91. 
 Jarnowicb, musician, 214. 
 Jay, Abbfi le, household of, 135- 
 
 136 ; death of, 141. 
 Jeauket, Abb£, 210-212. 
 Jesuits, 'the, doctrine of, 15-5. 
 Jollain, painter, 191. 
 Joseph, the Emperor, his envy of 
 
 Lyons, 357. 
 
 L. 
 
 Lablanclierie, Pahin de, literary 
 adventurer and suitor of Ma- 
 dame Roland, 222, 236, 2y]^ 
 239; proposal and conge of, 
 
 327-333- 
 La Harpe, eulogy of, on Catinat, 
 
 298. 
 Lamotte, the demoiselles de, 185, 
 
 188, 1S9. 
 Langlois, Abb^, 124. 
 
 Langlois, artist, cameo of Madame 
 
 Roland by, 152. 
 Lanthenas, journalist and member 
 
 of Convention, 354 . 
 Larive, actor, 327. 
 Lavacquerie, jailer at Sainte P6- 
 
 lagie, 22. 
 Lazowski, Polish political adven- 
 turer, 364. 
 Legrand, Abbfi, 271, 272. 
 Lempereur, Madame, conjugal 
 
 happiness of, 230. 
 L6pine, Madame, 213, 214, 215, 
 
 222, 
 Lupine, painter, 19 j. 
 Lille, Abb6 de, 29S. 
 Locke, John, 67, 143. 
 Louis XV., 194. 
 Louis XVL, 36S ; Ro'and's opinion 
 
 as to sentence of, ibid. 
 
 M. 
 
 Macaulay, Catherine, historian, 
 366. 
 
 Maimbourg, 142. 
 
 Maintenon, Madame de, letters of, 
 118. 
 
 Malebranche, 155, 197, 198. 
 
 Marat, 279. 
 
 Marchand (" M. Doucet " ), Ma- 
 dame Roland's tutor, 51, 70, 133. 
 
 Marie Antoinette, 16. 
 
 Massillon, 286, 287. 
 
 Maupeou, Chancellor, parliament 
 of, 160. 
 
 Maupertuis, 169. 
 
 Meudon, excursions to, 179-1S5; 
 258. 
 
 M^zeray, his history of France, 
 
 •34-I35; 143- 
 Michelet, his opinion of Roland's 
 "Letters," 345. 
 
Index 
 
 379 
 
 Michon, Mademoiselle, proposes 
 
 on behalf of the butcher, 228- 
 
 229. 
 Mignard, music-master, 53 ; 132- 
 
 133; proposes marriage, 223- 
 
 224. 
 Mirabeau, 326, 340. 
 Missa, Dr., 196, 197, 198. 
 Montaigne, 280. 
 Montesquieu, 143, 205, 300. 
 Montpensier, Mademoiselle de. 
 
 Memoirs of, 60. 
 Mopinot, counsellor, 318. 
 Mor6, Genevese watchmaker, 169. 
 Morel, Abb£, confessor of Madame 
 
 Roland, 148, 166, 167. 
 Morville, Mademoiselle, 214. 
 Mountain, political faction of the, 
 
 "°, 354, 371- 
 Mozon, dancing master, 53, 133 ; 
 
 offers himself and is dismissed^. 
 
 224. 
 
 N. 
 Necker, Madame, 208.^ 
 Nicole, moral essays of, 142. 
 Noel, Abh6, 60. 
 Nollet, 169. 
 
 o. 
 
 Orlfans, Phre d', Madame Roland 
 studies writings of, 134. 
 
 P. 
 
 Pache, Mayor of Paris, 316. 
 Paradelle, Abb6, 212. 
 Pascal, 143. 
 
 Penault, Madame, 201, 202, 203. 
 Perdu, counsellor, satirical por- 
 trait of, 186-187. 
 
 "Pfere Duchesne," Madame Ro- 
 land denounced by, 18 ; X13. 
 P6tion, Girondin deputy, death 
 
 of. 374- 
 
 Philopoemen, Madame Roland 
 compares herself with, 73, 
 
 Phlipon, Gatien, father of Mad- 
 ame Roland, introduced and 
 described, 39-41 ; death of, 
 361. 
 
 PhUpon, Madame Roland's grand- 
 mother, loi ; her character and 
 household, 102-104; ^^9i ^^0, 
 121, 124, 126, 199. 
 
 Phocion, 17, 160, 290, 359. 
 
 Pigale, painter, 191, 213. 
 
 Firon, critique of, on the opera, 
 221. 
 
 Platiire, Clos de la, family estate 
 of Roland, 357. 
 
 Plati^re, Madame de la, mother 
 of Roland, 356, 357. 
 
 Pluche, Madame Roland studies 
 works of, 134. 
 
 Plutarch, influence of on French 
 Revolution, 13-15 ; 21 ; 
 "Lives" of, first read by 
 Madame Roland, 64; 227, 273. 
 
 Pompey, 24. 
 
 Pope, Alexander, 192. 
 
 Private Memoirs, Madame Ro- 
 land's, how written, 17-27. 
 
 Puffendorf, 209, 
 
 Puisieux, Madame de, 212, 217, 
 340- 
 
 R. 
 
 Rabbe, Father, 318. 
 Raynal, Abb4, 149, 286. 
 R^umur, 169. 
 
 Rivard, works of, attract Madame 
 Roland to geometry, 169-170. 
 
38o 
 
 Index 
 
 Robespierre, iii. 
 
 Roland, Madame, influenced by 
 Plutarch, 13-15 ; heroine of the 
 Revolution, 16; works of, how 
 written, 17-27 ; removal of to 
 the Conciergerie, 28 ; trial and 
 condemnation of, 29-32 (and 
 370-372) ; death of, 33. 
 
 Roland de la Platifere, 2;, 171, 
 208, 220 ; description of, 322- 
 325; 333-334; his courtship of 
 Madame Roland, 343-350 ; mar- 
 riage of, 351 ; 355; residence of 
 at Lyons and Villefranche, 356- 
 357; deputed to Paris by Lyons 
 municipality, 359; Lavater on, 
 360; 361,362; the truth in re- 
 gard to his application for letters 
 of nobility, 363, 364; death of, 
 
 373- 
 
 Rollin, studied by Madame Ro- 
 land, 134. 
 
 Rotisset, Mademoiselle, 103. 
 
 RuudI, Madame, 124, 
 
 Rougemont, king's lieutenant, 340. 
 
 Rousseau, 27, 209, 210, 272, 273, 
 299. 
 
 Rozain, suitor of Madame Roland, 
 234-235- 
 
 S. 
 Sainte Pfilagie, prison of, 20, 22, 
 
 23, 24, 25. 
 Saint-Lette, M. de, quoted, 38 ; 
 
 320-322; 333, 334; death of, 
 
 335- 
 Saint Vallier, M. de, benefaction 
 
 of. 137- 
 
 Saint Victor, the monk of, confes- 
 sor at the Congregation, 83-84 ; 
 death of, 147. 
 
 Sales, St. Frangois de, 117, 118. 
 
 Sansculottism, affectations of, 327. 
 
 Sanson, the executioner, 33. 
 
 Scarron, " Roman Comique " of, 
 60. 
 
 Scipio, X93, 
 
 Seguin, treasurer of Duke of Or- 
 leans, 341. 
 
 September, " days " of, character- 
 ized, iro. 
 
 S6velinges, M. de, suitor of Ma- 
 dame Roland, 321, 334-339. 
 
 S£vign6, Madame de, epigram of, 
 quoted, 38 ; letters of, 118. 
 
 Sidney, Algernon, 359. 
 
 Socrates, 28, 160, 359. 
 
 Solon, 17. 
 
 Soucy, chateau of, visits to, 201- 
 205. 
 
 Spinoza, 156. 
 
 Stoics, doctrine of, 155. 
 
 Switzerland, Madame Roland 
 visits, 359. 
 
 T. 
 
 Taboral, young painter, Madame 
 Roland's girlish fancy for, 65. 
 
 Tacitus, 366. 
 
 Tasso, 64-65- 
 
 Thomson, James, 21 ; his " Sea- 
 sons " quoted, 100. 
 
 Toleration, Treatise on, 148. 
 
 Tribunal, the Revolutionary, func- 
 tions of, 115. 
 
 Tnide, cousin of Madame Roland, 
 infatuation of, for her, 309-312 ; 
 
 316. 317. 332. 
 Trude, Madame, 266 ; character of, 
 308; 312, 316,317,369. 
 
 U. 
 
 United States, Madame Roland 
 hopes her friends have fled to 
 the, 113. 
 
Index 
 
 381 
 
 VSse, M., literary reunions of, 
 
 215-220. 
 Velly, Abb6, 143. 
 Versailles, visit to, 157-159. 
 Vertot, Abb6 de, 134. 
 Vincennes, visit to, 340-342 ; 
 
 343- 
 
 Voltaire, 66 ; poems of, 142 ; 341 . 
 Vouglans, M. de, 189, 192, 
 
 W. 
 Watrin, music master, 53. 
 
 X. 
 Xenophon, writings of, 313. 
 
HISTORICAL MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 EMPEROR 
 ALEXANDER I. 
 
 AND THE COURT OF RUSSIA 
 By Mme, La Comtesse de ChoiseuUGoutfier, 
 
 Translated from the original French by MARY BERENICE PATTERSON, 
 xamo, gilt top, deckle edges. Illustrated, $x.50. 
 
 The author of this volume was an intimate friend of Alexander and an ardent sup- 
 porter of his foreign and domestic policy. When Napoleon entered Russia she was pre- 
 sented to him, and her pages contain a lifelike and characteristic picture of the " Little 
 Corporal." The book is full of bright, witty sayings, and presents a remarkably true 
 portrait of Alexander, who occupied during the iirst quarter of the nineteenth century as 
 pre-eminent a position in the world of diplomacy as did Napoleon in military affairs. 
 Only two copies of the original of this work are known to exist — from one of which the 
 present translation has been made. 
 
 Chicago Chronicle. 
 
 The author's admiration for Alexander is boundless, but this very enthusiasm 
 gives a more vivid picture of the man than less impassioned words could convey. 
 
 Outlook, New York. 
 
 The work was written many years ago, but it was written by one who knew 
 from the inside, both in Russia and in France, the history which she narrated. 
 Her book has long been a mine of wealth to all historians dealing with the period 
 of Alexander's reign, and, indeed, with European history in the early part of this 
 century, especially to Lamartine, who drew liberally from it in his * Histoire de 
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 Literary Era, Philadelphia. 
 
 Time has not materially dulled the interest or staled the variety of Madame 
 Choiseul-Gouffier's picturesque and substantial book ; and we are glad to see it 
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 The portraitit paints of Alexander I., while not strictly in accord with the wider 
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 moved in are undeniable. 
 
 New York Times Saturday Review. 
 
 The chief charm of the book will be found to lie in the intimate personal pic- 
 tures in which it abounds . . . The book naturallv touches with much detail upon 
 the political events of the time, the terrible sufJerin^s endured by the French 
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 most interesting as giving a vivid picture of one to whom all the world seemed 
 devoted. The memoir is so picturesquely and intimately written as to leave a 
 strong impression on the reader's mind. 
 
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