#women in FRev

[idefilarate]

Information on Gabrielle Danton, anyone ? I feel like I know absolutely nothing about her , and she rarely comes up in anecdotes on here, but maybe that’s because there aren’t any… @anotherhumaninthisworld

[theorahsart]

Some little doodles and inspirational quotes from Camille Desmoulins, Louis Antoine Saint-Just, and Maximilien Robespierre 💖

I've made these 3 cos I'm making some stickers for a comic convention thats very soon, and did the most 'famous' people for starters/who ppl following me might know from my comic :3

But when I have free time I'm definately gonna make some of lesser discussed but equally inspiring revolutionaries~

[enlitment]

Which Underrated Woman from History are You?

Finally got around to making a uquiz featuring six of my favourite women from history! You can either get someone from the French Revolution, Roman Republic (I know, how unexpected!) or from 1700s/early 1800s.

Featuring scientists, writers, politically active icons and a few poets whose lives were intertwined with theirs, as a treat!

Enjoy and thanks everyone for sharing! ✨

[nesiacha]

The Women of the French Revolution (and even the Napoleonic Era) and Their Absence of Activism or Involvement in Films

Warning: I am currently dealing with a significant personal issue that I’ve already discussed in this post: https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/765252498913165313/the-scars-of-a-toxic-past-are-starting-to-surface?source=share. I need to refocus on myself, get some rest, and think about what I need to do. I won’t be around on Tumblr or social media for a few days (at most, it could last a week or two, though I don’t really think it will).

But don’t worry about me—I’m not leaving Tumblr anytime soon. I just wanted to let you know so you don’t worry if you don’t see me and have seen this post.

I just wanted to finish this post, which I’d already started three-quarters of the way through.

One aspect that frustrates me in film portrayals (a significant majority, around 95%) is the way women of the Revolution or even the Napoleonic era are depicted. Generally, they are shown as either "too gentle" (if you know what I mean), merely supporting their husbands or partners in a purely romantic way. Just look at Lucile Desmoulins—she is depicted as a devoted lover in most films but passive and with little to say about politics.

Yet there’s so much to discuss regarding women during this revolutionary period. Why don’t we see mention of women's clubs in films? There were over 50 in France between 1789 and 1793. Why not mention Etta Palm d’Alders, one of the founders of the Société Patriotique et de Bienfaisance des Amies de la Vérité, who fought for the right to divorce and for girls' education? Or the cahier from the women of Les Halles, requesting that wine not be taxed in Paris?

Only once have I seen Louise Reine Audu mentioned in a film (the excellent Un peuple et son Roi), a Parisian market woman who played a leading role in the Revolution. She led the "dames des halles" and on October 5, 1789, led a procession from Paris to Versailles in this famous historical event. She was imprisoned in September 1790, amnestied a year later through the intervention of Paris mayor Pétion, and later participated in the storming of the Tuileries on August 10, 1792. Théroigne de Méricourt appears occasionally as a feminist, but her mission is often distorted. She was not a Girondin, as some claim, but a proponent of reconciliation between the Montagnards and the Girondins, believing women had a key role in this process (though she did align with Brissot on the war question). She was a hands-on revolutionary, supporting the founding of societies with Charles Gilbert-Romme and demanding the right to bear arms in her Amazon attire.

Why is there no mention in films of Pauline Léon and Claire Lacombe, two well-known women of the era? Pauline Léon was more than just a fervent supporter of Théophile Leclerc, a prominent ultra-revolutionary of the "Enragés." She was the eldest daughter of chocolatier parents, her father a philosopher whom she described as very brilliant. She was highly active in popular societies. Her mother and a neighbor joined her in protesting the king’s flight and at the Champ-de-Mars protest in July 1791, where she reportedly defended a friend against a National Guard soldier. Along with other women (and 300 signatures, including her mother’s), she petitioned for women’s rights. She participated in the August 10 uprising, attacked Dumouriez in a session of the Société fraternelle des patriotes des deux sexes, demanded the King’s execution, and called for nobles to be banned from the army at the Jacobin Club, in the name of revolutionary women. She joined her husband Leclerc in Aisne where he was stationed (see @anotherhumaninthisworld’s excellent post on Pauline Léon). Claire Lacombe was just as prominent at the time and shared her political views. She was one of those women, like Théroigne de Méricourt, who advocated taking up arms to fight the tyrant. She participated in the storming of the Tuileries in 1792 and received a civic crown, like Louise Reine Audu and Théroigne de Méricourt. She was active at the Jacobin Club before becoming secretary, then president of the Société des Citoyennes Républicaines Révolutionnaires (Society of Revolutionary Republican Women). Contrary to popular belief, there’s no evidence she co-founded this society (confirmed by historian Godineau). Lacombe demanded the trial of Marie Antoinette, stricter measures against suspects, prosecution of Girondins by the Revolutionary Tribunal, and the application of the Constitution. She also advocated for greater social rights, as expressed in the Enragés petition, which would later be adopted by the Exagérés, who were less suspicious of delegated power and saw a role beyond the revolutionary sections.

Olympe de Gouges did not call for women to bear arms; in her Declaration of the Rights of Woman and the Female Citizen, addressed to the Queen after the royal family’s attempted escape, she demanded gender equality. She famously said, "A woman has the right to mount the scaffold; she must equally have the right to mount the rostrum," and denounced the monarchy when Louis XVI's betrayal became undeniable, although she sought clemency for him and remained a royalist. She could be both a patriot and a moderate (in the conservative sense; moderation then didn’t necessarily imply clemency but rather conservative views on certain matters).

Why Are Figures Like Manon Roland Hardly Mentioned in These Films?

In most films, Manon Roland is barely mentioned, or perhaps given a brief appearance, despite being a staunch republican from the start who worked toward the fall of the King and was more than just a supporter of her husband, Roland. She hosted a salon where political ideas were exchanged and was among those who contributed to the monarchy's downfall. Of course, she was one of those courageous women who, while brave, did not advocate for women’s rights. It’s essential to note that just because some women fought in the Revolution or displayed remarkable courage doesn’t mean they necessarily advocated for greater rights for women (even Olympe de Gouges, as I mentioned earlier, had her limits on gender equality, as she did not demand the right for women to bear arms).

Speaking of feminism, films could also spotlight Sophie de Grouchy, the wife and influence behind Condorcet, one of the few deputies (along with Charles Gilbert-Romme, Guyomar, Charlier, and others) who openly supported political and civic rights for women. Without her, many of Condorcet’s posthumous works wouldn’t have seen the light of day; she even encouraged him to write Esquilles and received several pages to publish, which she did. Like many women, she hosted a salon for political discussion, making her a true political thinker.

Then there’s Rosalie Jullien, a highly cultured woman and wife of Marc-Antoine Jullien, whose sons were fervent revolutionaries. She played an essential role during the Revolution, actively involving herself in public affairs, attending National Assembly sessions, staying informed of political debates and intrigues, and even sending her maid Marion to gather information on the streets. Rosalie’s courage is evident in her steadfastness, as she claimed she would "stay at her post" despite the upheaval, loyal to her patriotic and revolutionary ideals. Her letters offer invaluable insights into the Revolution. She often discussed public affairs with prominent revolutionaries like the Robespierre siblings and influential figures like Barère.

Lucile Desmoulins is another figure. She was not just the devoted lover often depicted in films; she was a fervent supporter of the French Revolution. From a young age, her journal reveals her anti-monarchist sentiments (no wonder she and Camille Desmoulins, who shared her ideals, were such a united couple). She favored the King’s execution without delay and wholeheartedly supported Camille in his publication, Le Vieux Cordelier. When Guillaume Brune urged Camille to tone down his criticism of the Year II government, Lucile famously responded, “Let him be, Brune. He must save his country; let him fulfill his mission.” She also corresponded with Fréron on the political situation, proving herself an indispensable ally to Camille. Lucile left a journal, providing historical evidence that counters the infantilization of revolutionary women. Sadly, we lack personal journals from figures like Éléonore Duplay, Sophie Momoro, or Claire Lacombe, which has allowed detractors to argue (incorrectly) that these women were entirely under others' influence.

Additionally, there were women who supported Marat, like his sister Albertine Marat and his "wife"Simone Evrard, without whom he might not have been as effective. They were politically active throughout their lives, regularly attending political clubs and sharing their political views. Simone Evrard, who inspired much admiration, was deeply committed to Marat’s work. Marat had promised her marriage, and she was warmly received by his family. She cared for Marat, hiding him in the cellar to protect him from La Fayette’s soldiers. At age 28, Simone played a vital role in Marat’s life, both as a partner and a moral supporter. At this time, Marat, who was 20 years her senior, faced increasing political isolation; his radical views and staunch opposition to the newly established constitutional monarchy had distanced him from many revolutionaries.

Despite the circumstances, Simone actively supported Marat, managing his publications. With an inheritance from her late half-sister Philiberte, Simone financed Marat’s newspaper in 1792, setting up a press in the Cordeliers cloister to ensure the continued publication of Marat’s revolutionary pamphlets. Although Marat also sought public funds, such as from minister Jean-Marie Roland, it was mainly Simone’s resources that sustained L’Ami du Peuple. Simone and Marat also planned to publish political works, including Chains of Slavery and a collection of Marat’s writings. After Marat’s assassination in July 1793, Simone continued these projects, becoming the guardian of his political legacy. Thanks to her support, Marat maintained his influence, continuing his revolutionary struggle and exposing the “political machination” he opposed.

Simone’s home on Rue des Cordeliers also served as an annex for Marat’s printing press. This setup combined their personal life with professional activities, incorporating security measures to protect Marat. Simone, her sister Catherine, and their doorkeeper, Marie-Barbe Aubain, collaborated in these efforts, overseeing the workspace and its protection.

On July 13, 1793, Jean-Paul Marat was assassinated by Charlotte Corday. Simone Evrard was present and immediately attempted to help Marat and make sure that Charlotte Corday was arrested . She provided precise details about the circumstances of the assassination, contributing significantly to the judicial file that would lead to Corday’s condemnation.

After Marat’s death, Simone was widely recognized as his companion by various revolutionaries and orators who praised her dignity, and she was introduced to the National Convention by Robespierre on August 8, 1793 when she make a speech against Theophile Leclerc,Jacques Roux, Carra, Ducos,Dulaure, Pétion... Together with Albertine Marat (who also left written speeches from this period), Simone took on the work of preserving and publishing Marat’s political writings. Her commitment to this cause led to new arrests after Robespierre's fall, exposing the continued hostility of factions opposed to Marat’s supporters, even after his death.

Moreover, Jean-Paul Marat benefited from the support of several women of the Revolution, and he would not have been as effective without them.

The Duplay sisters were much more politically active than films usually portray. Most films misleadingly present them as mere groupies (considering that their father is often incorrectly shown as a simple “yes-man” in these same, often misogynistic, films, it's no surprise the treatment of women is worse).

Élisabeth Le Bas, accompanied her husband Philippe Le Bas on a mission to Alsace, attended political sessions, and bravely resisted prison guards who urged her to marry Thermidorians, expressing her anger with great resolve. She kept her husband’s name, preserving the revolutionary legacy through her testimonies and memoirs. Similarly, Éléonore Duplay, Robespierre’s possible fiancée, voluntarily confined herself to care for her sister, suffered an arrest warrant, and endured multiple prison transfers. Despite this, they remained politically active, staying close to figures in the Babouvist movement, including Buonarroti, with whom Éléonore appeared especially close, based on references in his letters.

Henriette Le Bas, Philippe Le Bas's sister, also deserves more recognition. She remained loyal to Élisabeth and her family through difficult times, even accompanying Philippe, Saint-Just, and Élisabeth on a mission to Alsace. She was briefly engaged to Saint-Just before the engagement was quickly broken off, later marrying Claude Cattan. Together with Éléonore, she preserved Élisabeth’s belongings after her arrest. Despite her family’s misfortunes—including the detention of her father—Henriette herself was surprisingly not arrested. Could this be another coincidence when it came to the wives and sisters of revolutionaries, or perhaps I missed part of her story?

Charlotte Robespierre, too, merits more focus. She held her own political convictions, sometimes clashing with those of her brothers (perhaps often, considering her political circle was at odds with their stances). She lived independently, never marrying, and even accompanied her brother Augustin on a mission for the Convention. Tragically, she was never able to reconcile with her brothers during their lifetimes. For a long time, I believed that Charlotte’s actions—renouncing her brothers to the Thermidorians after her arrest, trying to leverage contacts to escape her predicament, accepting a pension from Bonaparte, and later a stipend under Louis XVIII—were all a matter of survival, given how difficult life was for a single woman then. I saw no shame in that (and I still don’t). The only aspect I faulted her for was embellishing reality in her memoirs, which contain some disputable claims. But I recently came across a post by @saintejustitude on Charlotte Robespierre, and honestly, it’s one of the best (and most well-informed) portrayals of her.

As for the the hébertists womens , films could cover Sophie Momoro more thoroughly, as she played the role of the Goddess of Reason in her husband’s de-Christianization campaigns, managed his workshop and printing presses in his absence accompanying Momoro on a mission on Vendée. Momoro expressed his wife's political opinion on the situation in a letter. She also drafted an appeal for assistance to the Convention in her husband’s characteristic style.

Marie Françoise Goupil, Hébert’s wife, is likewise only shown as a victim (which, of course, she was—a victim of a sham trial and an unjust execution, like Lucile Desmoulins). However, there was more to her story. Here’s an excerpt from a letter she wrote to her husband’s sister in the summer of 1792 that reveals her strong political convictions:

« You are very worried about the dangers of the fatherland. They are imminent, we cannot hide them: we are betrayed by the court, by the leaders of the armies, by a large part of the members of the assembly; many people despair; but I am far from doing so, the people are the only ones who made the revolution. It alone will support her because it alone is worthy of it. There are still incorruptible members in the assembly, who will not fear to tell it that its salvation is in their hands, then the people, so great, will still be so in their just revenge, the longer they delay in striking the more it learns to know its enemies and their number, the more, according to me, its blows will only strike with certainty and  only fall on the guilty, do not be worried about the fate of my worthy husband. He and I would be sorry if the people were enslaved to survive the liberty of their fatherland, I would be inconsolable if the child I am carrying only saw the light of day with the eyes of a slave, then I would prefer to see it perish with me ».

There is also Marie Angélique Lequesne, who played a notable role while married to Ronsin (and would go on to have an important role during the Napoleonic era, which we’ll revisit later). Here’s an excerpt from Memoirs, 1760-1820 by Jean-Balthazar de Bonardi du Ménil (to be approached with caution): “Marie-Angélique Lequesne was caught up in the measures taken against the Hébertists and imprisoned on the 1st of Germinal at the Maison d'Arrêt des Anglaises, frequently engaging with ultra-revolutionary circles both before and after Ronsin’s death, even dressing as an Amazon to congratulate the Directory on a victory.” According to Généanet (to be taken with even more caution), she may have served as a canteen worker during the campaign of 1792.

On the Babouvist side, we can mention Marie Anne Babeuf, one of Gracchus Babeuf’s closest collaborators. Marie Anne was among her husband's staunchest political supporters. She printed his newspaper for a long time, and her activism led to her two-day arrest in February 1795. When her husband was arrested while she was pregnant, she made every effort possible to secure his release and never gave up on him. She walked from Paris to Vendôme to attend his trial, witnessing the proceeding that would sentence him to death. A few months after Gracchus Babeuf’s execution, she gave birth to their last son, Caius. Félix Lepeletier became a protector of the family (and apparently, Turreau also helped, supposedly adopting Camille Babeuf—one of his very few positive acts). Marie Anne supported her children through various small jobs, including as a market vendor, while never giving up her activism and remaining as combative as ever. (There’s more to her story during the Napoleonic era as well).

We must not forget the role of active women in the insurrections of Year III, against the Assembly, which had taken a more conservative turn by then. Here’s historian Mathilde Larrère’s description of their actions: “In April and May 1795, it was these women who took to the streets, beating drums across the city, mocking law enforcement, entering shops, cafes, and homes to call for revolt. In retaliation, the Assembly decreed that women were no longer allowed to attend Assembly sessions and expelled the knitters by force. Days later, a decree banned them from attending any assemblies and from gathering in groups of more than five in the streets.”

There were also women who fought as soldiers during the French Revolution, such as Marie-Thérèse Figueur, known as “Madame Sans-Gêne.” The Fernig sisters, aged 22 and 17, threw themselves into battle against Austrian soldiers, earning a reputation for their combat prowess and later becoming aides-de-camp to Dumouriez. Other fighting women included the gunners Pélagie Dulière and Catherine Pochetat.

In the overseas departments, there was Flore Bois Gaillard, a former slave who became a leader of the “Brigands” revolt on the island of Saint Lucia during the French Revolution. This group, composed of former slaves, French revolutionaries, soldiers, and English deserters, was determined to fight against English regiments using guerrilla tactics. The group won a notable victory, the Battle of Rabot in 1795, with the assistance of Governor Victor Hugues and, according to some accounts, with support from Louis Delgrès and Pelage.

On the island of Saint-Domingue, which would later become Haiti, Cécile Fatiman became one of the notable figures at the start of the Haitian Revolution, especially during the Bois-Caiman revolt on August 14, 1791.

In short, the list of influential women is long. We could also talk about figures like Félicité Brissot, Sylvie Audouin (from the Hébertist side), Marguerite David (from the Enragés side), and more. Figures like Theresia Cabarrus, who wielded influence during the Directory (especially when Tallien was still in power), or the activities of Germaine de Staël (since it’s essential to mention all influential women of the Revolution, regardless of political alignment) are also noteworthy.

Napoleonic Era

Films could have focused more on women during this era. Instead, we always see the Bonaparte sisters (with Caroline cast as an exaggerated villain, almost like a cartoon character), or Hortense Beauharnais, who’s shown solely as a victim of Louis Bonaparte and portrayed as naïve. There is so much more to say about this time, even if it was more oppressive for women.

Germaine de Staël is barely mentioned, which is unfortunate, and Marie Anne Babeuf is even more overlooked, despite her being questioned by the Napoleonic police in 1801 and raided in 1808. She also suffered the loss of two more children: Camille Babeuf, who died by suicide in 1814, and Caius, reportedly killed by a stray bullet during the 1814 invasion of Vendôme. No mention is made of Simone Evrard and Albertine Marat, who were arrested and interrogated in 1801.

An important but lesser-known event in popular culture was the deportation and imprisonment of the Jacobins, as highlighted by Lenôtre. Here’s an excerpt: “This petition reached Paris in autumn 1804 and was filed away in the ministry's records. It didn’t reach the public, who had other amusements besides the old stories of the Nivôse deportees. It was, after all, the time when the Republic, now an Empire, was preparing to receive the Pope from Rome to crown the triumphant Caesar. Yet there were people in Paris who thought constantly about the Mahé exiles—their wives, most left without support, living in extreme poverty; mothers were the hardest hit. Even if one doesn’t sympathize with the exiles themselves, one can feel pity for these unfortunate women... They implored people in their neighborhoods and local suppliers to testify on behalf of their husbands, who were wise, upstanding, good fathers, and good spouses. In most cases, these requests came too late... After an agonizing wait, the only response they received was, ‘Nothing to be done; he is gone.’” (Les Derniers Terroristes by Gérard Lenôtre). Many women were mobilized to help the Jacobins. One police report references a woman named Madame Dufour, “wife of the deportee Dufour, residing on Rue Papillon, known for her bold statements; she’s a veritable fury, constantly visiting friends and associates, loudly proclaiming the Jacobins’ imminent success. This woman once played a role in the Babeuf conspiracy; most of their meetings were held at her home…” (Unfortunately for her, her husband had already passed away.)

On the Napoleonic “allies” side, Marie Angélique, the widow of Ronsin who later married Turreau, should be more highlighted. Turreau treated her so poorly that it even outraged Washington’s political class. She was described as intelligent, modest, generous, and curious, and according to future First Lady Dolley Madison, she charmed Washington’s political circles. She played an essential role in Dolley Madison’s political formation, contributing to her reputation as an active, politically involved First Lady. Marie Angélique eventually divorced Turreau, though he refused to fund her return to France; American friends apparently helped her.

Films could also portray Marie-Jacqueline Sophie Dupont, wife of Lazare Carnot, a devoted and loving partner who even composed music for his poems. Additionally, her ties with Joséphine de Beauharnais could be explored. They were close friends, which is evident in a heartbreaking letter Lazare Carnot wrote to Joséphine on February 6, 1813, to inform her of Sophie’s death: “Until her last moment, she held onto the gratitude Your Majesty had honored her with; in her memory, I must remind Your Majesty of the care and kindness that characterize you and are so dear to every sensitive soul.”

In films, however, when Joséphine de Beauharnais’s circle is shown, Theresia Cabarrus (who appears much more in Joséphine ou la comédie des ambitions) and the Countess of Rémusat are mentioned, but Sophie Carnot is omitted, which is a pity. Sophie Carnot knew how to uphold social etiquette well, making her an ideal figure to be integrated into such stories (after all, she was the daughter of a former royal secretary).

Among women soldiers, we had Marie-Thérèse Figueur as well as figures like Maria Schellink, who also deserves greater representation. Speaking of fighters, films could further explore the stories of women who took up arms against the illegal reinstatement of slavery. In Saint-Domingue, now Haiti, many women gave their lives, including Sanité Bélair, lieutenant of Toussaint Louverture, considered the soul of the conspiracy along with her husband, Charles Bélair (Toussaint’s nephew) and a fighter against Leclerc. Captured, sentenced to death, and executed with her husband, she showed great courage at her execution. Thomas Madiou's Histoire d’Haiti describes the final moments of the Bélair couple: “When Charles Bélair was placed in front of the squad to be shot, he calmly listened to his wife exhorting him to die bravely... (...)Sanité refused to have her eyes covered and resisted the executioner’s efforts to make her bend down. The officer in charge of the squad had to order her to be shot standing.”

Dessalines, known for leading Haiti to victory against Bonaparte, had at least three influential women in his life. He had as his mentor, role modele and fighting instructor the former slave Victoria Montou, known as Aunt Toya, whom he considered a second mother. They met while they were working as slaves. They met while both were enslaved. The second was his future wife, Marie Claire Bonheur, a sort of war nurse, as described in this post, who proved instrumental in the siege of Jacmel by persuading Dessalines to open the roads so that aid, like food and medicine, could reach the city. When independence was declared, Dessalines became emperor, and Marie Claire Bonheur, empress. When Jean-Jacques Dessalines ordered the elimination of white inhabitants in Haiti, Marie Claire Bonheur opposed him, some say even kneeling before him to save the French. Alongside others, she saved those later called the “orphans of Cap,” two girls named Hortense and Augustine Javier.

Dessalines had a legitimized illegitimate daughter, Catherine Flon, who, according to legend, sewed the country’s flag on May 18, 1803. Thus, three essential women in his life contributed greatly to his cause.

In Guadeloupe, Rosalie, also known as Solitude, fought while pregnant against the re-establishment of slavery and sacrificed her life for it, as she was hanged after giving birth. Marthe Rose Toto also rose up and was hanged a few months after Louis Delgrès’s death (if they were truly a couple, it would have added a tragic touch to their story, like that of Camille and Lucile Desmoulins, which I have discussed here).

To conclude, my aim in this post is not to elevate these revolutionary, fighting, or Napoleonic-allied women above their male counterparts but simply to give them equal recognition, which, sadly, is still far from the case (though, fortunately, this is not true here on Tumblr).

I want to thank @aedesluminis for providing such valuable information about Sophie Carnot—without her, I wouldn't have known any of this. And I also want to thank all of you, as your various posts have been really helpful in guiding my research, especially @anotherhumaninthisworld, @frevandrest, @sieclesetcieux, @saintjustitude, @enlitment ,@pleasecallmealsip ,@usergreenpixel , @orpheusmori​ ,@lamarseillasie etc. I apologize if I forgot anyone—I’m sure I have, and I'm sorry; I'm a bit exhausted. ^^

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Historians having takes on frev women that make me go 😐 compilation

Sexually frustrated in her marriage to a pompous civil servant much older than herself, [Madame Roland] may have found Danton’s celebrated masculinity rather uncomfortable. Danton (1978) by Norman Hampson, page 77.

The Robespierres sent their sister to Arras because that was their hometown, the family home, where they had relatives, uncles, aunts and friends, like Buissart who they didn’t cease to remain in correspondence with, even in the middle of the Terror. There, among them, Charlotte would not be alone; she would find advice, rest, the peace necessary to heal her nervousness and animosity. Away from Mme Ricard, who she hated, away from Mme Duplay, who she detested, she would enjoy auspicious calmness. It is Le Bon that the Robespierres will charge with escorting their sister to this neccessary and soothing exile. […] If there is a damning piece in Charlotte Robespierre's case, it is this one (her interrogation, held July 31 1794). She seems to be caught in the act of accusing this Maximilien whom she rehabilitates in her Memoirs. She is therefore indeed a hypocrite, unworthy of the great name she bears, and which she dishonors the very day after the holocaust of 10 Thermidor. Charlotte Robespierre et Guffroy (1910) in Annales Révolutionnaires, volume 3 (1910) page 322, and Charlotte Robespierre et ses mémoires (1909) page 93-94, both by Hector Fleishmann.

Elisabeth, as she was popularly called, was barely past her twelfth birthday, younger even by three years than Barere’s own mother when she was given in marriage. On the following day the guests assembled again in the little church of Saint-Martin at midnight to attend the wedding ceremony of the handsome charmer and the bewildered child. Dressed in white, clasping in her arms a yellow, satin-clad  doll that Bertrand had given her — so runs the tradition — she marched timidly to the altar, looking more like a maiden making her first communion than a woman celebrating a binding sacrament. Perhaps the  doll, if doll there was, filled her eye, but certainly she could not fail to note how handsome her husband was. Bertrand Barere; a reluctant terrorist (1962) by Leo Gershoy, page 32.

The young nun who bore the name of Hébert did not hide her fate. She did not wish to prolong a life stifled from her childhood in the cloister, branded in the world by the name she bore, fighting between horror and love for the memory of her husband, unhappy everywhere. Histoire des Girondins (1848) by Alphonse de Lamartine, volume 8, page 60.

Lucile in prison showed more calmness than Camille. Before the tribunal, she seemed to possess neither fear nor hope, she denied having taken an active role in the prison conspiracy. What did it matter to her the answer they were trying to extract from her? They said they wanted her guilty? Very well! She would be condemned and join Camille. This was what she said again when she was told that she would suffer the same fate as her husband: ”Oh, what joy, in a few hours I’m going to see Camille again!” Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un couple dans la tourmente (1986) by Jean Paul Bertaud, page 293.

What did it matter to Lucile whether she was accused or defended? She had no longer any pretext for living in this world. She was one of those heroines of conjugal love who are more wife than mother. Besides, Horace lived, and Camille was dead. It was of the absent only that she thought. As for the child, would not Madame Duplessis act a mother's part to him? The grandmother would watch over the orphan. If Lucile had lived, she could have done nothing but weep over the cradle, thinking of Camille. Camille Desmoulins and his wife; passages from the history of the Dantonists founded upon new and hitherto unpublished documents (1876) by Jules Claretie.

Having been widowed at the age of 23 [sic] years, Élisabeth Duplay remarried a few years later to the adjutant general Le Bas, brother of her first husband, and kept the name which was her glory. She lived with dignity, and all those who have known her, still beautiful under her crown of white hair, have testified to the greatness of her sentiments and austerity of her character. She died at an old age, always loyal to the memory of the great dead she had loved and whose memory she, all the way to her final day, didn’t cease to honor and cherish. As for the lady of Thermidor, Thérézia Cabarrus, ex-marquise of Fontenay, citoyenne Tallien, then princess of Chimay, one knows the story of her three marriages, without counting the interludes. She had, as one knows, three husbands living at the same time. Now compare these two existances, these two women, and tell me which one merits more the respect and the sympathy of good men. Histoire de Robespierre et du coup d’état du 9 thermidor (1865) by Louis Ernest Hamel, volume 3, page 402.

Fel free to comment which one was your favorite! 😀

[frevandrest]

Frev (and 18c?) fresco at the Bastille metro station. Thanks to @robespapier for suggesting we see it because it's everything:

[newagevictorianorphan]

rip robespierre u would’ve been an amazing lesbian

[modernsleepingbeauty]

clowns

[oklotea]

Lucille Desmoulins moment (she is not ok)

[transrevolutions]

hilarious to me when people use robespierre's recommendation to close the SRRC as proof that he was some kind of raging misogynist. my friend they were burning down buildings and killing shopkeepers.

[sansterreurnivertu]

Why is it often said that Louise Danton (born March 3, 1776) was 16 years old at the time of her first marriage (June 1793, so she was actually 17)?

It's a simple calculation that can be corrected, so I really wonder why the error is still prevalent as it is today.

[enlitment]

favorite moments in the French revolution?

Thanks for the ask!

There's a lot of them! At the risk of being the sort of person Žižek calls out for wanting '1789 without 1793', a lot of my favourite moments come from the early days of the revolution.

Camille's passionate aux armes! speech at Palais Royal always makes the top of my list. I'm interested in the power of words, both from the literary/philosophical perspective and as a debater, so this moment feels right up my alley. There's just something about him being able to get over his stammer in the heat of the moment and inspire the crowd...

2. Second is probably the Women's March on Versailles! I think it really highlights just how important women (and mostly working-class women in this case!) were as a political force. This is something that people often forget, thinking that just because women didn't have political rights in the modern sense it meant that they had no influence on politics whatsoever. Events like this prove that this was hardly the case.

3. To move on from 1789, I am also fascinated by the merging of the revolution and religion. That's why I'm interested in the revolutionary festivals, like the Festival of the Supreme Being. (It gets such a bad reputation in a lot of historical sources, but if you look at the Catholic festivals which this was supposed to be an answer to... don't tell me they often didn't feel just as extra).

But what I find most interesting is how a lot of secular figures basically achieved the status of a saint in revolutionary France. Case in point: Marat (re: David's painting), Voltaire and - sigh - yes, Rousseau.

Just look at Rousseau's provisional mausoleum from 1794, in which he was buried before they moved his remains to the Panthéon:

fun fact - it's also currently my laptop lock screen. Don't ask why, I try not to over-analyse it.

[my-deer-friend]

From the website:

The Elbeuf Letters database provides a digital edition of the writings of the duchess of Elbeuf, a hostile witness to Revolutionary events between 1788 and 1794.

[nesiacha]

Thank you, Elisabeth Le Bas!

Thank you for these touching memoirs. Her modesty also moved me, as she is clearly one of those women behind the scenes who encouraged their revolutionary husbands, who would not have been as effective without them. She possesses an extraordinary strength of character and integrity that many men should have been inspired by instead of placing their individual interests first. The revolution could have been saved (no need to specify who I am targeting here). Although her memoirs may at first seem to portray a woman who simply supports those she loves, it is actually much deeper than that. She attended political debates with Charlotte Robespierre, showing that they were far more politically engaged than they appeared. By the way, I have a theory about Philippe Le Bas based on an excerpt from Elisabeth Le Bas:

"It was the day when Marat was borne in triumph to the Assembly that I saw my beloved Philippe Le Bas for the first time.

I found myself, that day, at the National Convention with Charlotte Robespierre. Le Bas came to greet her; he stayed with us for a long time and asked who I was. Charlotte told him that I was one of her elder brother’s host’s daughters. He asked her a few questions about my family; he asked Charlotte if we came to the Assembly often, and said that on a particular day there would be a rather interesting session. He urged her to come to it."

I haven’t found any evidence that Le Bas defended the rights of womens citizens (I hope I’m wrong because I really like him as a revolutionary, so feel free to correct me). Yet, I have no valid reason to doubt what he said to Charlotte Robespierre about encouraging these two women to attend a session of the Assembly. I get the impression that Le Bas was one of those men who valued women’s political opinions, had no problem with them attending political sessions, but didn’t see the point of them participating more actively in political life. I imagine he had no objections to discussing it privately with Elisabeth.

Philippe and Elisabeth Le Bas form such a touching couple (I almost applauded when they were finally able to marry), and I really liked that, together with Henriette Le Bas (another woman who is too unknown in the revolution, but fortunately Tumblr is here to bring them out of the shadows), she accompanied her husband and Saint-Just (she was one of the many women who accompanied the revolutionaries on their missions, like Charlotte Robespierre, Sophie Momoro, etc.).

I also really appreciated the relationship she had with Eleonore Duplay, where we also see the courage of her sister in adversity. Paradoxically, it’s in Elisabeth Le Bas’s memoirs that I began to appreciate Charlotte Robespierre. Charlotte Robespierre’s memoirs contain quite a few inaccuracies, as other Tumblr users have pointed out, and I thought to myself, it’s impossible, she’s way too “saintly,” I don’t believe it for a second (not to mention that she comes across as too apolitical, but I imagine those who helped write the memoirs didn’t want a thinking woman). Here, thanks to certain passages from Elisabeth and what we know from the Mathons, we have proof that she is certainly not a saint (no one is), but she’s not a heartless, toxic, or selfish woman as I’ve seen (not on Tumblr but on other forums, where they oddly bash Robespierre but blame Charlotte for disowning her brother; those who say these things are inconsistent, plus I’d like to see how they would have reacted if they had faced the same threat as Charlotte). She is a woman with touching qualities (like her kindness towards Elisabeth, her desire to accompany her brother on a mission, when she designated Mademoiselle Mathon as her heir, or that at the end of her life, she wanted to rehabilitate her brothers) but also with weaknesses (I would start with her completely inaccurate memoirs, I think the disagreement between Madame Duplay, Eleonore, and Charlotte involved shared faults, just like the dispute between Augustin and Charlotte, especially the letter Augustin wrote to Maximilien about Charlotte, etc.). Thanks to Elisabeth Le Bas’s memoirs, Charlotte Robespierre is neither a monster nor a too-perfect being, she is just a human being. By the way, I don’t blame her for disowning her family name and her brothers temporarily because the danger could have been real. She was a civilian who didn’t seek trouble, and in that respect, it was trouble (more precisely, the Thermidorians) that came to her. I also don’t blame her for asking Bonaparte for a pension and continuing to receive one under Louis XVIII because life for a single woman was very hard at that time. It took extraordinary strength of character to avoid doing all that, and not many people had it. Where I do criticize Charlotte Robespierre is for embellishing the reality concerning her in her memoirs.But it was very sad that she was not able to reconcile with her brothers especially Augustin before she died because none of them seem toxic to me. If France and the revolution had no longer been in danger, if they had survived, I think they would have reconciled, but I can't speak for them.

Returning to Elisabeth’s memoirs, I smiled when she idealized the revolutionaries she was close to, like the Robespierre brothers or Saint-Just, although after recognizing many of his qualities, she said he could sometimes be severe due to his great love for the country and the revolution. But it’s normal that she idealized them and defended them loyally because she was simply being loyal to the revolutionary struggles they were leading and in which she believed, even though it would have been good to see their flaws in her memoirs. Memoirs are always subjective, even from an honest person like Elisabeth Le Bas. Despite everything, she is attached to her country and is capable of making a judgment when she says in the excerpt, “Nevertheless, he needed to leave; Robespierre, who had great confidence in Le Bas because he knew his wise and prudent character well, had chosen him to accompany Saint-Just, whose burning love of the patrie sometimes led to too much severity, and who had a tendency to get carried away.” On the other hand, what troubles me about this statement is that normally, a person is not sent on a mission based on the will of just one other person; it usually requires the majority of votes within the CPS or the CSG (sometimes in the Convention). But we see that Elisabeth stays in the background yet makes a thoughtful political judgment to better safeguard the endangered French Revolution.

However, I didn’t like that Elisabeth constantly put herself down by describing herself as scatterbrained when everything indicated that she was not. I was saddened by the tragic fate of Philippe Le Bas, even though we all knew it was inevitable. At least they were able to say goodbye. At least he died before seeing the tragic outcome of the revolution. I found Madame Duplay’s death unfair. Poor Duplay family, who went through one tragedy after another but found the strength to bounce back. I admired Eleonore for helping Elisabeth during her most tragic moments in prison. I applauded when Elisabeth Le Bas showed astonishing courage in front of her adversaries from prison to her release. She never asked for anything and displayed extraordinary strength.

Even though I wouldn’t have blamed her for abandoning the revolution to survive with her son in such difficult times, she didn’t do it, whereas some “revolutionaries” greedy for their wallets destroyed the revolution, endangered France, and undermined the revolutionary people's efforts for social progress that had begun since 1789. The obligation of loyalty to the revolution that deputies like Fouché, Barras, or a general named Bonaparte should have respected was found in the daughter and wife of an authentic revolutionary (especially in the worst moments). Honor to her (and to the many men and women like Elisabeth) and shame on all those greedy ones (I must admit that my language is blunt and could be more nuanced if making a historical judgment, but I’m more in the realm of value judgment, so I feel I can allow myself some liberties, sorry for the fans of theses characters it's only my view).

On a more positive note, thank you, Elisabeth Le Bas, for fighting against this all-too-common black legend of the revolution through your memoirs.

Thank you for your journey as a fighter. If only the greedy deputies I mentioned earlier had a quarter of your integrity and courage and remembered that they were there to serve the people, as they are in their positions solely because of the people and thanks to them, the revolution would surely have lasted longer.

Thank you, Elisabeth, for all you did with so many others. May your life serve as an example and a source of strength for us.

[empirearchives]

The Development of French Women’s Rights — according to Carla Hesse

Women’s status in relation to their husbands during the Revolutionary era:

“Legal reform, however, did not go so far as to render the civil status of married women equal to that of their husbands. This radical proposal, initiated by the legislator Jean-Jacques-Régis de Cambacérès, was definitively rejected by the Convention in 1793. So even at the revolutionary high water mark, the legal standing of married women still remained contingent to a certain extent on the will and consent of their husbands.”

Divorce and other rights in the New Regime:

“By abolishing in 1791 guild restrictions imposed by the former regime, revolutionary legislators opened all professions, including publishing and printing, to women, as long as their husbands (if they were married) consented. Prescriptive primogeniture was abolished and divorce legalized in September of 1792.”

***Divorce was legalized in September 1792, but abolished in 1816 during the Restoration after the fall of Napoleon.

Women’s status in relation to their husbands under the Old Regime:

“Under the Old Regime, in short, a married woman’s right to publish her work was contingent on her husband’s consent. She was not permitted to sign any contracts without her husband’s consent, she could not, on her own, make a legally binding arrangement with a publisher. And, if she did publish, the legal claim to her work belonged to him unless he explicitly authorized his wife to act on her own behalf.”

“Few women wrote and published under the Old Regime, and many of those who did were legally separated, unmarried, or widowed. Perhaps the two most widely read women writers of the eighteenth century, Mme de Gaffigny and Mme Riccoboni, for example, did not in fact begin their literary careers until after they were separated from their husbands.”

A conclusion from the author:

“They were denied the vote in 1789, prohibited from political mobilization during the Terror, denied civil equality within marriage.”

Source: Carla Hesse, The Other Enlightenment: How French Women Became Modern

[frevandrest]

Did Saint-Just ever talk about women’s education?

He sure did! In his Fragments sur les institutions républicaines, he details his idea for the education of girls. Which is as follows:

Les filles sont élevées dans la maison maternelle.

(The girls are educated in maternal home)

That's it. And it comes after a lengthily discussion on the education of boys. So it does sound like SJ remembered girls only as an afterthought, and didn't have much to say on the topic. (I mean, he definitely didn't have much to say on the topic because if he had more ideas, he'd write them down).

Now, I am not sure what this means exactly. That girls should not have much education? Or that any education done to girls should be done in the home? (Those are two very, very different options). SJ was big on protecting girls and women from sexual violence (sometimes seen as going outside without a protector), so maybe this is a reflection on that? Don't get me wrong, this whole education for women is a big L from him, but he grew up at a time where female literacy was becoming a norm, at least for bourgeoise girls. They would get some education on things deemed important for a girl; SJ's own sisters were literate. So I doubt he would want girls to have absolutely no education, or only what their mother can teach (?) I mean, maybe? But that would be mega stupid, because you want the woman of the future Republic to know enough about the world so they can instill patriotic values in their daughters, so they can be good mothers and wives of the future republicans, if nothing else.

So my interpretation is that he got caught so much into developing that idea of friendship-filled, Sparta-inspired program of education for boys that he forgot about the existence of girls until late. And he didn't care that much about it, past "yes, girls get some education". So yes, an L from SJ on this one, but it is too limited to conclude what exactly he thought about the education of women or what he saw as an "appropriate" education for them.