# A Cyclopaedia of Female Biography/Roland, Marie Jeanne

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ROLAND, MARIE JEANNE,
Wife of the celebrated patriot of that name, was born at Paris, in 1754. Her father, M. Philipon, was an engraver of much talent, her mother was a woman of an uncommonly elevated character. The little Manon, as Madame Roland was called when a child, shewed her peculiarly ardent and enthusiastic temperament very early. Happily for her, she was surrounded from her youth by those pure and religious influences which, notwithstanding the scepticism of the age, still linger in the humble homes of the bourgeoise. Naturally reserved, though animated and eager, she required constant occupation; she never remembered having learned io read; by the time she was four, all the trouble of her education was over; it was only necessary to keep her well supplied with books. Flowers were the only thing that could make her voluntarily give up her reading. But her mother, to prepare her for her future duties, often required her to leave her studies, and assist her in all the household occupations. Dancing, music, drawing, geography, and even Latin, she acquired readily; and rising at five in the morning, she stole, half-dressed, to her studies. As to books, none came amiss to her. She devoured alike, the Bible, romances, "Lives of the Saints," or "Memoirs of Mademoiselle de Montpensier."
But Plutarch was her chief delight; at the age of nine she carried it to church with her secretly; and from that time she dated her first republican feelings and opinions. When she was about eleven, she became very religious; and at the time of her first communion, always a ceremony of necessity and importance in the Roman Catholic church, she was so carried away by her religious ​emotions, that she threw herself at her parents' feet, and, with torrents of tears, begged them to allow her to go to a convent to prepare for the great event. Her request was granted; and her gravity, her devotion, and her great quickness in learning, soon made her a favourite among the community in which she was placed. Upon the day when she was to take the sacrament for which she had prepared, by her seclusion, long prayers, and meditation, her excited imagination, and her excessive devotion, made it necessary for her to be almost carried to the altar by one of the nuns. In this retreat she formed a friendship with a young girl of her own age, Sophie Canet, which lasted during her whole life. Though the religious sentiments she then experienced yielded at a later period to the scepticisms of the age, their purifying influence is to be traced through every stage of her existence. The philosophic and popular spirit which had been gradually descending through every class of the nation, began to pervade the bourgeoise, and, in spite of the obscurity of her birth and station, Manon could not feel indifferent to the welfare of her country; she adopted eagerly the popular doctrines of equality and brotherhood.
She was not insensible to the charms of pomp and splendour, but she was indignant that its chief object was to elevate still higher persons already too powerful, and who had nothing commendable in themselves. In a visit she paid to the court, she soon became disgusted with it. "If I remain much longer," said she to her mother, while using her to depart, "I shall soon detest the people I see so much, that I shall not be able to control my hatred." "What injury have they done you?" "They make me feel their injustice and their absurdity." These republican sentiments increased the stoical nature of her character; she looked upon life as a struggle and a duty. Her beauty attracted many admirers, but she refused all offers; her superiority to those of her own rank rendering her naturally repugnant to marriage.
M. Philipon was not kind to his wife. The ascendency which his daughter had over him enabled her to control his ebullitions of temper, so that after she was grown, her mother was in a great measure protected from them. In 1775 she lost this adored mother, and her grief on the occasion nearly cost her her life. For two weeks she lay in terrible convulsions, struggling all the time with a sense of suffocation. A letter from her friend, Sophie Canet, at length enabled her to weep—an effect the physicians had been trying in vain to produce, and she recovered.
After her mother's death, her father became careless and dissipated, and nearly ruined himself. Mademoiselle Philipon took refuge in her books from her troubles; the works of Rousseau especially interested her. At the same time, Sophie Canet wrote to her often about a man whom she had met in the society near Amiens, where she resided; and when this gentleman, M. Roland, went to Paris, she gave him a letter to Mademoiselle Philipon. They were mutually pleased with each other, and corresponded from that time till their marriage, five years after, in 1789.
M. Roland was a manufacturer of Lyons, a grave, severe man, then on the verge of fifty. Reserved and abrupt in his manners, few would have thought him likely to fascinate a young and beautiful woman. Nor was it love that attracted her to him. Love she looked upon—it was thought through the influence of ​some youthful disappointment—as a beautiful chimera. Beneath the austere aspect of Roland, she saw and admired a soul, in Its stem and unyielding virtues, worthy of an ancient philosopher. In her enthusiasm she overrated his qualities; he proved a selfish, exacting husband; but her sense of duty, and the high esteem she felt for his qualities, enabled her to bear her lot with cheerfulness.
The opening of the French revolution drew her from the retirement of private life. She accompanied her husband in 1791, to Paris, upon his being sent there by the municipality of Lyons. Her beauty, enthusiasm, and eloquence soon exercised a powerful fascination over her husband's friends. Péthion, Buzot, Brissot, and Robespierre met constantly at her house, and she was a deeply interested observer of all that passed. Madame Roland had little faith in a constitutional monarchy; her aspirations were for a republic, pure, free, and glorious as her ideal. Without seeking it, she found herself the nucleus of a large and powerful party. The singular and expressive beauty of her face and person, the native elegance and dignity of her manners, her harmonious voice and flowing language, and above all, the fervour and eloquence of her patriotism, seemed to mark her out for the part which had been instinctively assigned to her. She presided over political meetings with so much tact and discretion as to appear a calm spectator; whilst she, in reality, imbued with her own fervent enthusiasm all those who came near her. This enthusiasm she had imparted to the colder mind of her husband, and the prominent part which he took in the important events of the period, may unquestionably be attributed to her. In 1792, when the Girondist ministry was formed, Roland was named minister of the interior; and in her new and elevated position, Madame Roland influenced not only her husband, but the entire Girondist party. Dismissed from his post, in consequence of his celebrated letter of remonstrance to the king—which letter was, in fact, written by his wife—Roland, upon the downfall of the monarchy, was recalled to the ministry. This triumph was but short-lived. The power which had been set in motion could not be arrested in its fearful course—the Girondist party fell before the influence of their blood-thirsty opponents. Protesting against the Reign of Terror, they fell its victims. Madame Roland, whose opposition to the massacres had influenced her party, drew down upon her husband and herself the hatred of Marat and Danton, and their lives were soon openly threatened. Roland, who was kept in concealment by a friend, escaped; but Madame Roland was arrested, and thrown into prison. Here during a confinement of several months, she prepared her memoirs, which have since been given to the world.
On the 10th. of November, 1793, she was removed to the Conciergerie, and her trial, as a Girondist, commenced. She was closely questioned, not only about herself, but her husband. She refused to say anything that might criminate him, or give them a clue as to his present hiding-place. She was condemned to death, and November 10th., 1793, she ascended the fatal cart, dressed in white, as an emblem of her purity of mind, and went calmly through the crowd which followed the procession. The mass of the people, moved by pity and admiration, were generally silent, but some of the more furious ones cried out, "To the guillotine! to the guillotine!" "I shall soon be there," said Madame Roland; "but those ​who send me there will follow themselves ere long. I go there innocent, but they will go as criminals; and you, who now applaud, will also applaud then." When she arrived in front of the statue of liberty, she bent her head to it, exclaiming, "Oh liberty, how many crimes are committed in thy name!" At the foot of the scaffold, she said to her companion, an old and timid man, whom she had been encouraging on the way, "Go first; I can at least spare you the pain of seeing my blood flow." She died at the age of thirty-nine.
She had predicted that her husband would not survive her; her prediction was fulfilled. The body of Roland was found seated beneath a tree, on the road to Rouen, stabbed to the heart. Fastened to his dress was a paper, upon which a few lines were inscribed, asserting that "upon learning the death of his wife, he could not remain a day longer in a world so stained with crime." That M. Roland was unable to survive his wife, is the strongest proof of the powerful influence which she exercised over him. It has been aptly said, that of all modern men, Roland most resembled Cato. It was to his wife that he owed his courage, and the power of his talents.
They left one daughter, Eudora, who was brought up by Madame Champayneux, a friend of Madame Roland; and the son of this friend married Eudora.