按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
r interest was roused； her early training had added to her natural distaste for the spirit； as well as the accessories； of a social life that was inevitably more or less artificial。 She would have felt cramped and caged in the conventional atmosphere of a drawing room in which the gravest problems were apt to be forgotten in the flash of an epigram or the turn of a bon mot。 The strong and heroic outlines of her character were more clearly defined on the theater of the world。 But at a time when the empire of the salon was waning； when vital interests and burning convictions had for the moment thrown into the shade all minor questions of form and convenance； she took up the scepter in a simpler fashion； and； disdaining the arts of a society of which she saw only the fatal and hopeless corruption； held her sway over the daring and ardent men who gathered about her by the unassisted force of her clear and vigorous intellect。
It would be interesting to trace the career of the thoughtful and precocious child known as Manon or Marie Phlipon； who sat in her father's studio with the burin of an engraver in one hand and a book in the other； eagerly absorbing the revolutionary theories which were to prove so fatal to her； but it is not the purpose here to dwell upon the details of her life。 In the solitude of a prison cell and under the shadow of the scaffold she told her own story。 She has introduced us to the simple scenes of her childhood； the modest home on the Quai de l'Horloge； the wise and tender mother； the weak and unstable father。 We are made familiar with the tiny recess in which she studies； reads； and makes extracts from the books which are such strange companions for her years。 We seem to see the grave little face as it lights with emotion over the inspiring pages of Fenelon or the chivalrous heroes of Tasso； and sympathize with the fascination that leads the child of nine years to carry her Plutarch to mass instead of her prayer book。 She portrays for us her convent life with its dreams； its exaltations； its romantic friendships； and its ardent enthusiasms。 We have vivid pictures of the calm and sympathetic Sophie Cannet； to whom she unburdens all her hopes and aspirations and sorrows； of the lively sister Henriette； who years afterward； in the generous hope of saving her early friend； proposed to exchange clothes and take her place in the cells of Sainte…Pelagie。 In the long and commonplace procession of suitors that files before us； one only touches her heart。 La Blancherie has a literary and philosophic turn； and the young girl's imagination drapes him in its own glowing colors。 The opposition of her father separates them； but absence only lends fuel to this virgin flame。 One day she learns that his views are mercenary； that he is neither true nor disinterested； and the charm is broken。 She met him afterward in the Luxembourg gardens with a feather in his hat； and the last illusion vanished。
There is an idyllic charm in these pictures so simply and gracefully sketched。 She sees with the vision of one lying down to sleep after a life of pain； and dreaming of the green fields； the blue skies； the running brooks； the trees； the flowers； that make so beautiful a background for youthful loves and hopes。 Perhaps we could wish sometimes that she were a little less frank。 We miss a touch of delicacy in this nature that was so strong and self…poised。 We are sorry that she dismissed La Blancherie quite so theatrically。 There is a trace too much of consciousness in her fine self…analysis； perhaps a little vanity； and we half suspect that her unchildlike penetration and precocity of motive was sometimes the reflection of an afterthought。 But it is to be remembered that； even in childhood； she had lived in such close companionship with the heroes and moralists of the past that their sentiments had become her own。 She doubtless posed a little to herself； as well as to the world； but her frankness was a part of that uncompromising truthfulness which scorned disguises of any sort； and led her to paint faults and virtues alike。
Family sorrowsthe death of the mother whom she adored； and the unworthiness of her fathercombined to change the current of her free and happy life； and to deepen a natural vein of melancholy。 In her loneliness of soul the convent seemed to offer itself as the sole haven of peace and rest。 The child； who loved Fenelon； and dreamed over the lives of the saints； had in her much of the stuff out of which mystics and fanatics are made。 Her ardent soul was raised to ecstasy by the stately ceremonial of the Church； her imagination was captivated by its majestic music； its mystery； its solemnity； and she was wont to spend hours in rapt meditation。 But her strong fund of good sense； her firm reason fortified by wide and solid reading； together with her habits of close observation and analysis； saved her from falling a victim to her own emotional needs； or to chimeras of any sort。 She had drawn her mental nourishment too long from Voltaire； Rousseau； Montesquieu； the English philosophers； and classic historians； to become permanently a prey to exaggerated sensibilities； though it was the same temperament fired by a sense of human inequality and wrong； that swept her at last along the road that led to the scaffold。 At twenty…six the vocation of the religieuse had lost its fascination； the pious fervor of her childhood had vanished before the skepticism of her intellect； its ardent friendships had grown dim； its fleeting loves had proved illusive； and her romantic dreams ended in a cold marriage of reason。
It may be noted here that though Mme。 Roland had lost her belief in ecclesiastical systems； and； as she said； continued to go to mass only for the 〃edification of her neighbors and the good order of society；〃 there was always in her nature a strong undercurrent of religious feeling。 Her faith had not survived the full illumination of her reason； but her trust in immortality never seriously wavered。 The Invocation that was among her last written words is the prayer of a soul that is conscious of its divine origin and destiny。 She retained； too； the firm moral basis that was laid in her early teachings； and which saved her from the worst errors of her time。 She might be shaken by the storms of passion； but one feels that she could never be swept from her moorings。
Tall and finely developed； with dark brown hair； a large mouth whose beauty lay in a smile of singular sweetness； dark； serious eyes with a changeful expression which no artist could catch； a fresh complexion that responded to every emotion of a passionate soul； a deep； well…modulated voice； manners gentle； modest； reserved； sometimes timid with the consciousness that she was not readily taken at her true valuesuch was the PERSONNELLE of the woman who calmly weighed the possibilities of a life which had no longer a pleasant outlook in any direction； and； after much hesitation； became the wife of a grave； studious； austere man of good family and moderate fortune； but many years her senior。
It was this marriage； into which she entered with all seriousness； and a devotion that was none the less sincere because it was of the