zanoni-第110部分

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suspected；　by　procuring　them　passports　under　disguised　names；　and

advising　their　method　of　escape。　　But　C　was　a　man　who　took　this

trouble　only　for　the　rich。　　〃The　incorruptible　Maximilien；〃　who

did　not　want　the　tyrant's　faculty　of　penetration；　probably　saw

through　all　his　manoeuvres；　and　the　avarice　which　he　cloaked

beneath　his　charity。　　But　it　was　noticeable　that　Robespierre

frequently　seemed　to　wink　atnay；　partially　to　encouragesuch

vice　in　men　whom　he　meant　hereafter　to　destroy；　as　would　tend　to

lower　them　in　the　public　estimation；　and　to　contrast　with　his　own

austere　and　unassailable　integrity　and　PURISM。　　And；　doubtless；

he　often　grimly　smiled　in　his　sleeve　at　the　sumptuous　mansion　and

the　griping　covetousness　of　the　worthy　Citizen　C。



To　this　personage；　then；　Glyndon　musingly　bent　his　way。　　It　was

true；　as　he　had　darkly　said　to　Viola；　that　in　proportion　as　he

had　resisted　the　spectre；　its　terrors　had　lost　their　influence。

The　time　had　come　at　last；　when；　seeing　crime　and　vice　in　all

their　hideousness；　and　in　so　vast　a　theatre；　he　had　found　that　in

vice　and　crime　there　are　deadlier　horrors　than　in　the　eyes　of　a

phantom…fear。　　His　native　nobleness　began　to　return　to　him。　　As

he　passed　the　streets；　he　revolved　in　his　mind　projects　of　future

repentance　and　reformation。　　He　even　meditated；　as　a　just　return

for　Fillide's　devotion；　the　sacrifice　of　all　the　reasonings　of

his　birth　and　education。　　He　would　repair　whatever　errors　he　had

committed　against　her；　by　the　self…immolation　of　marriage　with

one　little　congenial　with　himself。　　He　who　had　once　revolted　from

marriage　with　the　noble　and　gentle　Viola！he　had　learned　in　that

world　of　wrong　to　know　that　right　is　right；　and　that　Heaven　did

not　make　the　one　sex　to　be　the　victim　of　the　other。　　The　young

visions　of　the　Beautiful　and　the　Good　rose　once　more　before　him；

and　along　the　dark　ocean　of　his　mind　lay　the　smile　of　reawakening

virtue；　as　a　path　of　moonlight。　　Never；　perhaps；　had　the

condition　of　his　soul　been　so　elevated　and　unselfish。



In　the　meanwhile　Jean　Nicot；　equally　absorbed　in　dreams　of　the

future；　and　already　in　his　own　mind　laying　out　to　the　best

advantage　the　gold　of　the　friend　he　was　about　to　betray；　took　his

way　to　the　house　honoured　by　the　residence　of　Robespierre。　　He

had　no　intention　to　comply　with　the　relenting　prayer　of　Fillide；

that　the　life　of　Glyndon　should　be　spared。　　He　thought　with

Barrere；　〃Il　n'y　a　que　les　morts　qui　ne　revient　pas。〃　　In　all　men

who　have　devoted　themselves　to　any　study；　or　any　art；　with

sufficient　pains　to　attain　a　certain　degree　of　excellence；　there

must　be　a　fund　of　energy　immeasurably　above　that　of　the　ordinary

herd。　　Usually　this　energy　is　concentrated　on　the　objects　of

their　professional　ambition；　and　leaves　them；　therefore；

apathetic　to　the　other　pursuits　of　men。　　But　where　those　objects

are　denied；　where　the　stream　has　not　its　legitimate　vent；　the

energy；　irritated　and　aroused；　possesses　the　whole　being；　and　if

not　wasted　on　desultory　schemes；　or　if　not　purified　by　conscience

and　principle；　becomes　a　dangerous　and　destructive　element　in　the

social　system；　through　which　it　wanders　in　riot　and　disorder。

Hence；　in　all　wise　monarchies；nay；　in　all　well…constituted

states；the　peculiar　care　with　which　channels　are　opened　for

every　art　and　every　science；　hence　the　honour　paid　to　their

cultivators　by　subtle　and　thoughtful　statesmen；　who；　perhaps；　for

themselves；　see　nothing　in　a　picture　but　coloured　canvas；

nothing　in　a　problem　but　an　ingenious　puzzle。　　No　state　is　ever

more　in　danger　than　when　the　talent　that　should　be　consecrated　to

peace　has　no　occupation　but　political　intrigue　or　personal

advancement。　　Talent　unhonoured　is　talent　at　war　with　men。　　And

here　it　is　noticeable；　that　the　class　of　actors　having　been　the

most　degraded　by　the　public　opinion　of　the　old　regime；　their　very

dust　deprived　of　Christian　burial；　no　men　（with　certain

exceptions　in　the　company　especially　favoured　by　the　Court）　were

more　relentless　and　revengeful　among　the　scourges　of　the

Revolution。　　In　the　savage　Collot　d'Herbois；　mauvais　comedien；

were　embodied　the　wrongs　and　the　vengeance　of　a　class。



Now　the　energy　of　Jean　Nicot　had　never　been　sufficiently　directed

to　the　art　he　professed。　　Even　in　his　earliest　youth；　the

political　disquisitions　of　his　master；　David；　had　distracted　him

from　the　more　tedious　labours　of　the　easel。　　The　defects　of　his

person　had　embittered　his　mind；　the　atheism　of　his　benefactor　had

deadened　his　conscience。　　For　one　great　excellence　of　religion

above　all；　the　Religion　of　the　Crossis；　that　it　raises　PATIENCE

first　into　a　virtue；　and　next　into　a　hope。　　Take　away　the

doctrine　of　another　life；　of　requital　hereafter；　of　the　smile　of

a　Father　upon　our　sufferings　and　trials　in　our　ordeal　here；　and

what　becomes　of　patience？　　But　without　patience；　what　is　man？

and　what　a　people？　　Without　patience；　art　never　can　be　high；

without　patience；　liberty　never　can　be　perfected。　　By　wild

throes；　and　impetuous；　aimless　struggles；　Intellect　seeks　to　soar

from　Penury；　and　a　nation　to　struggle　into　Freedom。　　And　woe；

thus　unfortified；　guideless；　and　unenduring；woe　to　both！



Nicot　was　a　villain　as　a　boy。　　In　most　criminals；　however

abandoned；　there　are　touches　of　humanity；relics　of　virtue；　and

the　true　delineator　of　mankind　often　incurs　the　taunt　of　bad

hearts　and　dull　minds；　for　showing　that　even　the　worst　alloy　has

some　particles　of　gold；　and　even　the　best　that　come　stamped　from

the　mint　of　Nature　have　some　adulteration　of　the　dross。　　But

there　are　exceptions；　though　few；　to　the　general　rule；

exceptions；　when　the　conscience　lies　utterly　dead；　and　when　good

or　bad　are　things　indifferent　but　as　means　to　some　selfish　end。

So　was　it　with　the　protege　of　the　atheist。　　Envy　and　hate　filled

up　his　whole　being；　and　the　consciousness　of　superior　talent　only

made　him　curse　the　more　all　who　passed　him　in　the　sunlight　with　a

fairer　form　or　happier　fortunes。　　But；　monster　though　he　was；

when　his　murderous　fingers　griped　the　throat　of　his　benefactor；

Time；　and　that　ferment　of　all　evil　passionsthe　Reign　of　Blood

had　made　in　the　deep　hell　of　his　heart　a　deeper　still。　　Unable　to

exercise　his　calling　（for　even　had　he　dared　to　make　his　name

prominent；　revolutions　are　no　season　for　painters；　and　no　man

no！　not　the　richest　and　proudest　magnate　of　the　land；　has　so

great　an　interest　in　peace　and　order；　has　so　high　and　essential　a

stake　in　the　well　being　of　society；　as　the　poet　and　the　artist）；

his　whole　intellect；　ever　restless　and　unguided；　was　left　to

ponder　over　the　images　of　guilt　most　congenial　to　it。　　He　had　no

future　but　in　this　life；　and　how　in　this　life　had　the　men　of

power　around　him；　the　great　wrestlers　for　dominion；　thriven？　　All

that　was　good；　pure；　unselfish；whether　among　Royalists　or

Republicans；swept　to　the　shambles；　and　the　deathsmen　left　alone

in　the　pomp　and　purple　of　their　victims！　　Nobler　paupers　than

Jean　Nicot　would　despair；