bespierre and the Mountain effected the final
overthrow of the Girondists--the moderate party of the French
revolutionists--M. Roland, who had recently resigned his office in the
ministry, was forced to flee, and his wife was thrown into prison. To
solace the sad hours of her captivity, she began to write her own
Memoirs. "I propose to myself," she says, "to employ the leisure hours
of my captivity in relating the history of my life, from my infancy to
the present time. Thus to retrace the steps of one's career is to live
a second time; and what better can a prisoner do than, by a happy
fiction, or by interesting recollections, to transport herself from
her prison?"

Her Memoirs are dated at the "Prison of St. Pelagie, August 9th,
1793," and she thus commences: "Daughter of an artist, wife of a
philosopher, who, when a minister of state, remained a man of virtue;
now a prisoner, destined, perhaps, to a violent and unexpected
death,--I have known happiness and adversity; I have learned what
glory is, and have suffered injustice. Born in an humble condition,
but of respectable parents, I passed my youth in the bosom of the
arts, and amidst the delights of study; knowing no superiority but
that of merit, no grandeur but that of virtue."

Her father, Gratien Philipon, was an engraver. During the early years
of Manon's life, he was well off, employing many workmen under him.
His wife possessed little of what is called knowledge, but she had a
discerning judgment and a gentle and affectionate disposition. By her
example, as well as by the course of education which her disposition
led her to pursue, she formed in her daughter the same gentle,
feminine spirit which she herself possessed.

"The wisdom and kindness of my mother," says Madame Roland, "quickly
acquired over my gentle and tender character an ascendency which was
used only for my good. It was so great that, in those slight,
inevitable differences between reason which governs and childhood
which resists, she had need to resort to no other punishment than to
call me, coldly, _Mademoiselle_, and to regard me with a severe
countenance. I feel, even now, the impression made on me by her look,
which at other times was so tender and caressing. I hear, almost with
shivering, the word _mademoiselle_ substituted for the sweet name of
_daughter_, or the tender appellation of _Manon_. Yes, Manon; it was
thus they called me: I am sorry for the lovers of romances, the name
is