The only child of a prosperous artisan, it was supposed that she was an heiress: this idea, joined to her personal attractions, elicited numerous pretensions to her hand, and her indulgent parents conceded to her the privilege of replying to them. Her sensibility was great, and she looked on wedded life as the source of every felicity; but this very notion made her scrupulous in her choice. The young men of the quarter passed in review before her, and were, one after the other, rejected. A little hesitation ensued when a physician proposed—she hoped for more refinement and knowledge in one of the learned professions. In the end, he also was refused,—her heart continued untouched; she would have been glad if any one had appeared whom she could have looked upon as worthy of her; but, as this did not happen, she rejoiced to escape the proposed shackles, and turned to her peaceful studious home, the affection of her mother, and the attachment of her friends, with renewed delight. The account she gives of the many proposals she received, and the way in which they were finally dismissed, is one of the most amusing portions of her book, and affords a pleasant and vivid picture of the French system with regard to marriages.
Her mother's health became enfeebled, and this excellent parent regarded her daughter's future prospects with anxiety. Phlipon had become careless in his business; his customers deserted him, his speculations failed; he grew fond of pleasure, and habits of industry were thrown aside. His wife was aware of the advances of poverty, and of the slight confidence she could place in her husband; she reasoned with her daughter, and tried to persuade her to accept the offer of a young jeweller, who had youth and good habits to recommend him; but Manon shrunk from uniting herself with one whom she could not regard as the sharer of her studies nor the guide of her conduct.
Her mother died suddenly of paralysis. Madame Roland gives a vivid picture of the affliction she felt on this event, which conducted her to the brink of the grave. It was long before she could be roused from the intense grief that overwhelmed both mind and body. She became incapable of application, and struggled in vain to cast off the melancholy that made her a burden to herself and others. By degrees, her regrets grew less passionate and more tender. At this moment a friend, abbé Legrand, put the "Nouvelle Heloise" into her hands,—it succeeded in exciting her attention, and in calling her thoughts from her loss. "I was twenty-one," she says, "and Rousseau made the same impression on me then as Plutarch had done when I was eight. Plutarch had disposed me to republicanism,—he had awakened the energy and pride which are its characteristics; he inspired me with a true enthusiasm for public virtue and freedom. Rousseau showed me domestic happiness and the ineffable felicity I was capable of tasting." From this time, she returned to her quiet routine of life, her studies, and her habits of observation. "I was placed," she says, "in solitude, but on the borders of society, and could remark much without being intruded on." Several men of letters interested themselves in her, and delighted in her society. Finding that she was in the habit of writing her remarks, some among them prognosticated that she would become an author; but she had no inclination to seek publicity in that manner. "I soon saw," she says, "that an authoress loses more than she gains. My chief object was my own happiness, and I never knew the public interfere with that for any one without spoiling it. There is nothing more delightful than to be appreciated by those with whom one lives, and nothing so empty as the admiration of those whom we are never to meet." Other cares, however, intruded themselves; she saw that her father's fortune was wasting away, and anticipated ruin for him and poverty for herself. He was young—and dissipated, and might marry again. Meanwhile, he was never at home, and interfered in her life only to annoy her, without affording the paternal protection or domestic society that she needed. She felt that her situation grew precarious, and the energy of her character determined her to meet rather than await the evil. She secured to herself a scanty income of about 25l. a year from the wreck of her father's fortune, and retired on it to a convent. She rented a small room in the congregation, and established herself in her retreat, determined to limit her wants to her means. Her plan demanded unflinching resolution, and this she displayed. Her food was simple, and prepared by herself. She only went out to visit her relations, and cast a careful eye over her father's household. The rest of her time was spent in her little solitary chamber. She gave herself up to study, and fortified her heart against adversity; determined to deserve the happiness which fate denied her.
She at this time by no means foresaw the course of life she was destined to pursue, although she was already acquainted with her future husband. M. Roland de la Platiere, belonged to a family of Lyons, distinguished in what the French call the robe; that is, by having filled with credit legal employments. As the youngest of five sons, he was destined for the ecclesiastical profession; to avoid which, he left the paternal roof at the age of nineteen, and, alone and almost penniless, traversed France to Nantes, with the intention of embarking for India. He was dissuaded by a stranger to whom he had applied for information with regard to his projected voyage, who interested himself in his fate, and saw that he was too weakly in health to encounter the hardships of emigration. He found employment in the administration of manufactures at Rouen and Amiens. He possessed great simplicity and integrity of character; he loved study, and applied himself sedulously to gathering knowledge with regard to the manufactories of which he had the superintendence. He wrote several works that treated of such subjects. He was a man generally esteemed for his sound plain sense; his austere and simple manners inspired confidence, though he was more respected than loved on account of a certain coldness of character that repelled. He was known to Sophie, Mlle. Phlipon's convent friend; he heard her speak of her correspondent with admiration, and often asked to be allowed to make acquaintance with her during his yearly visit to Paris. At length, Sophie gave him an introduction. 1775.
Ætat.
23. "This letter," she wrote, will be delivered to you by the philosopher I have often mentioned, M. Roland de la Platiere, an enlightened and excellent man, who can only be reproached for his great admiration of the ancients at the expense of the moderns, whom he despises, and his weakness in liking to talk too much about himself." Mlle. Phlipon liked him better than this sketch promised. His manners were a little cold and stiff; he was careless in dress, and no longer youthful either in years or appearance; but she discerned and appreciated his simplicity and benevolence of character. He took pleasure in the society of the serious and reflective recluse, and paid her long though not frequent visits. His age prevented any idea of impropriety on the score of his being an admirer, add to which her father, while he ran after pleasure himself, left his daughter to pursue her way without interference. Roland was about to make a tour in Italy. He chose his new friend as the depositary of his manuscripts, and, before he departed, introduced to her his brother, a benedictine, prior of the college of Clugny at Paris. Through the intervention of this brother she saw the letters and observations that Roland sent from Italy. On his return, they continued friends; his conversation was a great resource to her, while the habit he indulged of seeing her often, at last rendered her society necessary to him, and love—slow and chill, but of deep growth—arose in his heart. Five years after the commencement of their acquaintance he disclosed his sentiments. She was flattered by the proposal—his good birth during the old regime was a tangible good, to which she was by no means insensible, but her pride led her to represent to him that she was a bad match—her family ignoble, and she herself, instead of being an heiress, ruined through her father's imprudence. Roland persisted in his address, and she permitted him to apply to her only surviving parent, which he did by letter from Amiens. Phlipon did not like his austerity, and was not pleased by the tone of his letter; thinking only of his own feelings, and without consulting his daughter, he sent a rejection couched in rude and even impertinent terms.
His daughter, when informed of what he had done, was a good deal shocked; for the last few months she had looked on Roland as her future husband, and attached herself to him. She wrote to him saying, that the event had justified her fears with regard to her father, and that he had better abandon his pursuit. At the same time she resolved to render herself independent—that if Roland persisted, he should not again be annoyed. It was on this occasion that she retired to a convent, and bound herself to subsist on the scanty income which was all that she possessed. At first Roland wrote to complain of her father's treatment, and though still expressing attachment, appeared to regard the paternal rejection as putting an end to his hopes. Six months afterwards he visited Paris; the sight of his friend at the convent grate renewed the feelings which absence and disappointment had blunted; he pressed his offer, and sent his brother, the benedictine, to persuade her. I reflected deeply," she writes, "on what I ought to do. I could not conceal from myself that a younger man would not have delayed, for several months, entreating me to change my resolution, and I confess that this circumstance had deprived my feelings of every illusion. I considered, on the other hand, that this deliberation was an assurance that I was appreciated; and that if he had overcome his pride, which shrunk from the disagreeable circumstances that accompanied his marrying me, I was the more secure of an esteem I could not fail to preserve. In short, if marriage was, as I thought, an austere union, an association in which the woman usually burdens herself with the happiness of two individuals, it were better that I should exert my abilities and my courage in so honourable a task, than in the solitude in which I lived."
1780.
Ætat.
26.
With these feelings she married. Of a passionate and ardent disposition, she devoted herself to a life of self-control; and, resolved to find her happiness in the fulfilment of her duty, she delivered herself up with enthusiasm and without reserve to the task she undertook. She was her husband's friend, companion, amanuensis; fearful of the temptations of the world, she gave herself up to labour; she soon became absolutely necessary to him at every moment, and in all the incidents of his life; her servitude was thus sealed; now and then it caused a sigh; but the holy sense of duty reconciled her to every inconvenience.
She visited Switzerland and England. In this country her husband's connection with the scientific world led her to the society she best liked. They then took up their abode at the family residence of Clos la Platière near Lyons, with her husband's mother and elder brother. Madame Roland had one child, a little girl;—to educate her; to render her husband happy; to spread the charm of peace and love around, and in the midst of this to cultivate in her own pure mind the most elevated as well as the gentle virtues; to be useful to their peasantry, and mitigate as well as she could the many hardships to which the poor in France were exposed;—this was the scope of her life, and the entire prospect spread out before her. Her husband had so little expectation of change, that he endeavoured to get his right to letters of nobility acknowledged, as, madame Roland observes, "who would not have done the same in those days?" The time was apparently far off when it could be of general good to reject the privileges of class; and these privileges were so great that the sphere of usefulness was considerably extended to any one who possessed them. Failing in this attempt, the republican pair sometimes deliberated emigrating to America, that they might there enjoy equal institutions, and the sight of public happiness and prosperity. The age of M. Roland was an insurmountable obstacle, however, to this plan.
Her letters, during this period, afford a picture of her mind; showing her love of duty and of study; her enjoyment of the beauties of nature, and, above all, the warm affectionateness of her disposition, which made her supremely happy in the happiness of others, and caused her to share, with tender sympathy, all the joys or sorrows of those she loved. Her husband's relations were disagreeable, but she bore the interference that prevented her living exactly in the manner she preferred with an unruffled temper. 1786.
Ætat.
32. She tolerated every fault in others, and secluded herself to secure her liberty: she never repines. "Seated in my chimney corner," she writes to M. Bose, "at eleven before noon, after a peaceful night and my morning tasks—my husband at his desk, and my little girl knitting—I am conversing with the former, and overlooking the work of the latter; enjoying the happiness of being warmly sheltered in the bosom of my dear little family, and writing to a friend, while the snow is falling on so many poor wretches overwhelmed by sorrow and penury. I grieve over their fate, I repose on my own, and make no account of those family annoyances which appeared formerly to tarnish my felicity.—I am delighted at being restored to my accustomed way of existence." This country life was alternated by visits to Lyons, where Roland had employment, where she mingled in society; but the provincial tone that reigned was little consonant with her taste.
The revolution came in the midst of this peaceful existence, to give new life and expression to opinions which she had hitherto considered as merely theoretical, and for which no scope for practice had been afforded in the state of society before that epoch. All at once, from out of ancient wrong and tyranny, from the midst of the great miseries and intolerable oppressions which her country groaned under, the spirit of justice, of redress, and of freedom, sprung up. It seemed, at first, to every strong and honest mind, that France would throw off outworn, yet still subsisting and oppressive, abuses, and grow wise, virtuous, and happy, under the fosterage of liberty and equality.