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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 intellect rather than the heart； that gave the final tinge to a character that was already laid on solid foundations。 Strong； clear…sighted； earnest； and gifted； her later experience had accented a slightly ascetic quality which had been deepened also by her study of antique models。 Her tastes were grave and severe。 But they had a lighter side。 As a child she had excelled in music； dancing； drawing； and other feminine accomplishments； though one feels always that her distinctive talent does not lie in these things。 She is more at home with her thoughts。 There was a touch of poetry； too； in her nature； that under different circumstances might have lent it a softer and more graceful coloring。 She had a natural love for the woods and the flowers。 The single relief to her somber life at La Platiere； after her marriage； was in the long and lonely rambles in the country； whose endless variations of hill and vale and sky and color she has so tenderly and so vividly noted。 In her last days a piano and a few flowers lighted the darkness of her prison walls； and out of these her imagination reared a world of its own； peopled with dreams and fancies that contrasted strangely with the gloom of her surroundings。 This poetic vein was closely allied to the keen sensibility that tempered the seriousness of her character。 With the mental equipment of a man； she combined the rich sympathy of a woman。 Her devotion to her mother was passionate in its intensity； her letters to Sophie throb with warmth and sentiment。 She is tender and loving； as well as philosophic and thoughtful。 Her emotional ardor was doubtless partly the glow of youth and not altogether in the texture of a mind so eminently rational； but there were rich possibilities behind it。 A shade of difference in the mental and moral atmosphere； a trace more or less of sunshine and happiness are important factors in the peculiar combination of qualities that make up a human being。 The marriage of Mme。 Roland led her into a world that had little color save what she brought into it。 Her husband did not smile upon her friends。 Sympathy other than that of the intellect she does not seem to have had。 But her story is best told in her own words； written in the last days of her life。
〃In considering only the happiness of my partner； I soon perceived that something was wanting to my own。 I had never； for a single instant； ceased to see in my husband one of the most estimable of men； to whom I felt it an honor to belong； but I have often realized that there was a lack of equality between us； that the ascendency of an overbearing character； added to that of twenty years more of age； gave him too much superiority。 If we lived in solitude； I had many painful hours to pass； if we went into the world； I was loved by men of whom I saw that some might touch me too deeply。 I plunged into work with my husband； another excess which had its inconvenience； I gave him the habit of not knowing how to do without me for anything in the world； nor at any moment。
〃I honor； I cherish my husband； as a sensible daughter adores a virtuous father to whom she would sacrifice even her lover； but I have found the man who might have been that lover； and remaining faithful to my duties； my frankness has not known how to conceal the feelings which I subjected to them。 My husband； excessively sensitive both in his affections and his self…love； could not support the idea of the least change in his influence； his imagination darkened； his jealousy irritated me； happiness fled； he adored me； I sacrificed myself for him； and we were miserable。
〃If I were free； I would follow him everywhere to soften his griefs and console his old age； a soul like mine leaves no sacrifices imperfect。 But Roland was embittered by the thought of sacrifice； and the knowledge once acquired that I mad made one ruined his happiness； he suffered in accepting it； and could not do without it。〃
The sequel to this tale is told in allusions and half revelations； in her letters to Buzot； which glow with suppressed feeling； in her touching farewell to one whom she dared not to name； but whom she hoped to meet where it would not be a crime to love； in those final words of her 〃Last Thoughts〃〃Adieu。 。 。 。 No； it is from thee alone that I do not separate； to leave the earth is to approach each other。〃
Beneath this semi…transparent veil the heart…drama of her life is hidden。
For the sake of those who would be pained by this story； as well as for her own； we would rather it had never been told。 We should like to believe that the woman who worked so nobly with and for the man who died by his own hand five days after her death； because he could stay no longer in a world where such crimes were possible； had lived in the full perfection of domestic sympathy。 But； if she carried with her an incurable wound； one cannot help regretting that her Spartan courage had not led her to wear the mantle of silence to the end。 Posterity is curious rather than sympathetic； and the world is neither wiser nor better for these needless soul…revelations。 There is always a certain malady of egotism behind them。 But it is often easier to scale the heights of human heroism than to still the cry of a bruised spirit。 Mme。 Roland had moments of falling short of her own ideals； and this was one of them。 Pure； loyal； self…sustained as she was； her strong sense of verity did not permit the veil which would have best served the interests of the larger truth。 It is fair to say that she thought the malicious gossip of her enemies rendered this statement necessary to the protection of her fame。 Perhaps； after all； she shows here her most human and lovable if not her strongest side。 We should like Minerva better if she were not so faultlessly wise。
The outbreak of the Revolution found Mme。 Roland at La Platiere； where she shared her husband's philosophic and economic studies； brought peace into a discordant family； attended to her household duties and the training of her child； devoted many hours to generous care for the sick and poor； and reserved a little leisure for poetry and the solitary rambles she loved so well。 The first martial note struck a responsive chord in her heart。 Her opportunity had come。 Embittered by class distinctions over which she had long brooded； saturated with the sentiments of Rousseau； and full of untried theories constructed in the closet； with small knowledge of the wide and complex interests with which it was necessary to deal； she centered all the hitherto latent energies of her forceful nature upon the quixotic effort to redress human wrongs。 Her birth； her intellect； her character； her temperament； her education； her associationsall led her towards the role she played so heroically。 She had a keen appreciation for genuine values； but none whatever for factitious ones。 Her inborn hatred of artificial distinctions had grown with her years and colored all her estimates of men and things。 When she came to Paris； she noted with a sort of indignation the superior poise and courtesy