that superiority conferred by the habit of command and confidence in the respect of the million; on the left side, she saw inferiority of manners, and the insolence that mingles with low breeding.  And thus did the antique aristocracy survive in blood, and avenge itself, even after its defeat on the democracy, which envied, whilst it beat it to the earth.  Equality is written in the laws long before it is established in races.  Nature is an aristocrat, and it requires a long use of independence to give to a republican people the noble attitude and polished dignity of the citizen.  Even in revolutions, the parvenu of liberty is long seen in the vanquisher.  Women’s tact is very sensitive to these nice shades.  Madame Roland understood them, but, so far from allowing herself to be seduced by this superiority of aristocracy, she was but the more indignant, and felt her hatred redoubled against a party which it was possible to overcome but impossible to humble.

XV.

It was at this period that she and her husband united with some of the most ardent amongst the apostles of popular ideas.  It was not they who, as yet, were foremost in the favour of the people, and the eclat of talent,—­it was they who appeared to it, to love the Revolution for the Revolution itself, and to devote themselves, with sublime disinterestedness, not to the success of their fortune, but to the progress of humanity.  Brissot was one of the first.  M. and Madame Roland had been, for a long time, in correspondence with him on matters of public economy, and the more important problems of liberty.  Their ideas had fraternised and expanded together.  They were united beforehand by all the fibres of their revolutionary hearts, but, as yet, did not know it.  Brissot, whose adventurous life, and unwearied contentions were allied to the youth of Mirabeau, had already acquired a name in journalism and the clubs.  Madame Roland awaited him with respect; she was curious to judge if his features resembled the physiognomy of his mind.  She believed that nature revealed herself by all forms, and that the understanding and virtue modelled the external senses of men just as the statuary impresses on the clay the outward forms of his conception.  The first appearance undeceived, without discouraging her in her admiration of Brissot.  He wanted that dignity of aspect, and that gravity of character which seem like a reflection of the dignity, life, and seriousness of his doctrines.  There was something in the man political, which recalled the pamphleteer.  His levity shocked her; even his gaiety seemed to her a profanation of the grave ideas of which he was the organ.  The Revolution, which gave passion to his style, did not throw any passion into his countenance.  She did not find in him enough hatred against the enemies of the people.  The mobile mind of Brissot did not appear to have sufficient consistency for a feeling of devotion.  His activity, directed upon all matters, gave him the appearance of a novice in ideas rather than an apostle.  They called him an intriguer.