#jacobin

Before giving my answer, I want to make it clear that this is not about minimizing the suffering of other women. Their suffering was very real, and this is not a competition.

One might first think of women such as Lucile Desmoulins and Marie-Françoise Hébert. Both lost their husbands and were then executed in turn, leaving behind very young children.

The same can be said of Marie-Françoise Quétineau, wife of General Quétineau, who was executed after suffering a miscarriage. https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/802273057231257600/forgotten-women-executed-during-the-french?source=share

More broadly, many mothers outlived children who had been executed during the Revolution—an immense and often overlooked suffering

https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/776321761376616448/parents-who-survived-their-children-executed?source=share Suzanne Pétion also endured a succession of tragedies. She was imprisoned, then learned of the execution of her mother, followed by that of Manon Roland, who had supported her. She later discovered the death of her husband and the horrific condition of his body. She was not released until December 1794.

Sophie Momoro’s story is equally tragic. Imprisoned shortly after her husband Antoine-François Momoro was arrested, she witnessed the destruction of their reputation through slander in the press. She learned of his execution, as well as those of his companions and of Marie-Françoise Hébert. She also faced uncertainty regarding the fate of her young child and harassment from Laboureau. After her release, she lived in poverty. Her second marriage was unhappy; she divorced, took a lover (which was socially condemned), had a third child during the stricter Napoleonic era, and ultimately died in poverty.

The Duplay sisters also suffered after Thermidor: temporary imprisonment, the loss of loved ones to the guillotine, and the demonization of their name (the black legend surrounding people like Robespierre had already begun).

Albertine Marat and Simone Evrard endured imprisonment and poverty. Despite their efforts to preserve the legacy of Jean-Paul Marat, they saw him vilified and remained under police surveillance during the Directory, under Bonaparte, and even under the monarchy.

Henriette Simonin, widow of Chaumette—whom I discussed here: https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/804044312295964672/the-information-i-have-been-able-to-find-about?source=share —survived her husband’s execution, likely witnessed the rise of his “black legend,” lost their daughter, and was imprisoned after the attack on the Rue Saint-Nicaise during the repression of the Jacobins.

Élisabeth Le Bon, whose life I discussed here: https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/796013800067416064/elisabeth-le-bon-loyal-companion-in-the-struggle?source=share was imprisoned with her two children.

Although she was able to correspond with allies and make friends during that time, she endured many trials, including seeing her husband’s name (and by extension her own) vilified and unjustly portrayed as monstrous. She also suffered harsh persecution from her enemies in prison, which she endured with stoicism. After her husband’s death, during the Conspiracy of Equals, she also had to endure the loss of her brother-in-law Darthé and her friend Gracchus Babeuf, with whom she had formed a bond through correspondence during imprisonment. She was even kept under surveillance and likely remained socially ostracized, despite her efforts to rehabilitate her husband Joseph Le Bon.

Anne-Catherine Joséphine Catoir, widow of Collot d’Herbois (her life is described here Facebook) , and Anne-Angélique Doye ( her history is here https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/801393590312075264/biography-about-anne-ang%C3%A9lique-doye-wife-of?source=share), first wife of Billaud, saw their lives collapse after their husbands’ arrests. They were ostracized, persecuted, and ruined. Angélique even had to use a false name. Both attempted everything to save or support their husbands, but in vain. Collot died in deportation. Angélique divorced Billaud in order to enter a marriage of convenience to support him, but he rejected her afterward despite mediation attempts.

Sophie Lapierre, a Babouvist activist and singer, was arrested during the Conspiracy of Equals. She learned of her uncle Joseph Monnard’s death during the repression at the Grenelle camp. At her trial, she refused to recognize the court’s authority, signed manifestos, and sang revolutionary songs such as the Hymn of Goujon, which the audience joinedhttps://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/804946147651272704/sophie-lapierre-activist-of-the-french-revolution?source=share . She survived Darthé (sometimes rumored—without evidence—to have been her lover) and Babeuf. Though acquitted, she left prison destitute.

Sophie Carnot also experienced tragic moments, as shown in this post of @aedislumen : https://www.tumblr.com/aedislumen/782234046319280128/hello-do-you-know-anything-or-have-any-resources?source=share She and her husband first had a stillborn child, then lost another son in 1795. When Carnot was proscribed during Fructidor, their property was seized. She initially refused to divorce him (which would have protected her), until both her father and husband persuaded her to do so. This allowed her to assist him more effectively while he was in exile, though she had to endure slander in the press and pamphlets. After Brumaire, when he was able to return to France, the divorce was annulled—yet this still illustrates the tragedies she endured.

Marie-Angélique Lequesne, widow of Ronsin and later divorced from Turreau—whose full biography I wrote here: https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/794437214869340160/marie-ang%C3%A9lique-lequesne-widow-of-ronsin-and-wife?source=share —supported her first husband, Charles-Philippe Ronsin, as best she could during his difficult times. She was then imprisoned for six months, during which she saw her husband and many of her friends executed, while she herself was seriously ill.

After her release, she remarried one of her husband’s friends, Turreau. However, in addition to losing a child, her husband proved to be a cruel man who beat her (with whips or a cane, in front of their crying children). Hardly anyone dared to help her, except for her friend Dolley Madison, Thornton, and a few americans. Out of revenge, Turreau left her in poverty with their children; even after the divorce, he lived comfortably while she and her children struggled to obtain even minimal financial support. Her plan to return to America during the Restoration and open a school also failed, and she died in poverty (as did her daughter Alexandrine).

Marie-Anne Babeuf lived in constant poverty, saw her husband executed, and lost many friends. She was imprisoned twice under harsh conditions and subjected to police surveillance and proceedings multiple times. She outlived at least four of her five children (possibly all) and lived under the stigma of the Babeuf name. She also witnessed her son Émile gradually abandon revolutionary ideals and distort the truth as demonstrated here https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/797365648777953280/the-beginning-of-the-revolutionary-period?source=share .

Suzanne Le Peletier fought to marry the man she loved but suffered a disappointing marriage and the loss of children. She remarried, was later widowed again, and gradually turned toward religion and royalism under the weight of her personal tragedies as we can see here https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/795252246414819328/the-relationship-between-f%C3%A9lix-le-peletier-and?source=share .

Bonne-Jeanne Fouché lost several children, sometimes during periods when her husband was in political danger, preventing normal grieving even if this didn’t stop them from being devastated by their losses, as the evidence shows .

Charlotte Robespierre lost both her brothers on the same day and was never able to reconcile with them.

Even if one may criticize Madame Royale for what she later became—especially after returning to France as the Duchess of Angoulême, as discussed here https://www.tumblr.com/mathildeaquisexta/778220050110922752/i-quite-agree-with-everything-written?source=share —she endured imprisonment as a child alongside her younger brother and witnessed members of her family die one after another. (Louis XVI, Marie-Antoinette, and Madame Élisabeth bear responsibility for their political fate, but Madame Royale and her brother were innocent and should never have suffered such a fate.)

Many women suffered at the hands of foreign troops, who showed little mercy during the sack of towns and villages during the frev revolution.

Others suffered during the famine of Year III or from violence by the Muscadins. Some mothers, driven to despair, committed suicide with their children by throwing themselves into the Seine.

Madame Dunel represents this extreme despair: persecuted and crushed by inequality and repression, she poisoned her entire family and herself. Only her husband, who was being pursued by the police, survived.

Women affiliated with the Jacobin movement suffered greatly after the repression ordered by Bonaparte, as you can see here: https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/804861309236674560/the-role-of-women-supporting-the-jacobins-in-the?source=share They fought in vain to prevent their husbands from being deported and risked insults and physical violence in the streets. Madame Dufour, a mother of six whose neo-Jacobin husband had been deported, gave public speeches in support of the Jacobins—but to no avail, as he had already died. Many of these women fell deeper into poverty, as their husbands had been their main source of income, which only added to their suffering. Furthermore, they were betrayed by a former comrade-in-arms, Parein du Mesnil, who had gained their trust during difficult times in order to better report their conversations to the government.

One could also mention the wife of General Maurepas, who died on September 19, 1802, in Haiti when Napoleon attempted to restore slavery. Here is how the Maurepas family died (the general had been suspected of participating in the Haitian revolt after surrendering to the French army in February 1802):

“He is immediately seized by several sailors (he is then aboard the flagship off Tortuga), stripped in a frenzy, and tied to the mainmast. The French officers are astonished by the calm and resignation of this warrior, as well as by the superhuman courage of his wife, who urges him to die as a hero. Maurepas sees his wife and his children hanged from the yards. Insults fly from all sides, but his lips express only indignation at such crimes. ” (Thomas Madiou)

Even though she showed great courage, it was a tragedy for this mother to be hanged alongside her two young children. Unfortunately, when Bonaparte restored slavery, such atrocities were all too common.

I think that, whether or not one agrees with what these women did, one can only admire how they faced their tragedies.

At least all the women mentioned above experienced, at some point, at least a measure of freedom, love, or human connection—even if fleeting.

Others never had that chance.

Women like her were born into bondage, deprived of legal protection, separated from their families (whether they will see each other again depends entirely on the will of their owners)and subjected to violence and exploitation. Even the small freedoms they had were merely survival strategies.

This is why I believe that cases like Émilie—who was enslaved by the mother of Joséphine de Beauharnais and executed on accusations of poisoning her mistress—represent some of the most tragic fates imaginable. Here is her short biography: https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/795013242335444992/a-delicate-question-the-responsibility-of?source=share

When Émilie was accused of attempting to poison Rose Claire des Vergers de Sannois, one must remember that the slaveholding class imposed a regime of terror. At the slightest suspicion or rumor, Black people—including free people of color—could be executed without trial or tangible evidence. After slave revolts, suspicion weighed especially heavily on enslaved domestic workers like Émilie. For many slave owners, every Black person was seen as a “potential poisoner.” No proof or witnesses were required: mere suspicion could send someone to the stake. It was also a convenient pretext to eliminate enslaved individuals no longer trusted.

Émilie only confessed to the accusations (which may well have been false) in an attempt to save her mother and sisters. She was not granted the “mercy” of the guillotine but was executed by burning. No influential figure intervened on her behalf or that of her family, even though others under the Empire, far more “guilty” than she, sometimes benefited from such support.

This woman was simply trying to survive in an inhuman system—and she was killed for it, a victim of paranoia and the slaveholders’ thirst for vengeance.

At least women executed such as Marthe Rose Toto and Rosalie (known as Solitude) in Guadeloupe were able to fight alongside their companions against the restoration of slavery before being executed by hanging. Émilie, by contrast, never took up arms nor attempted to oppose the Bonapartist regime, despite having every reason to do so—yet this did not spare her tragic fate.