zanoni-第86部分

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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；　and　Poverty　would　rise　in　its　ghastly

multitudes　to　cut　the　throat　of　Wealth；　and　then　gash　itself　limb

by　limb；　if　Patience；　the　Angel　of　the　Poor；　sat　not　by　its　side；

pointing　with　solemn　finger　to　the　life　to　come！　　And　now；　as

Nicot　neared　the　house　of　the　Dictator；　he　began　to　meditate　a

reversal　of　his　plans　of　the　previous　day：　　not　that　he　faltered

in　his　resolution　to　denounce　Glyndon；　and　Viola　would

necessarily　share　his　fate；　as　a　companion　and　accomplice；no；

THERE　he　was　resolved！　for　he　hated　both　（to　say　nothing　of　his

old　but　never…to…be…forgotten　grudge　against　Zanoni）。　　Viola　had

scorned　him；　Glyndon　had　served；　and　the　thought　of　gratitude　was

as　intolerable　to　him　as　the　memory　of　insult。　　But　why；　now；

should　he　fly　from　France？he　could　possess　himself　of　Glyndon's

gold；　he　doubted　not　that　he　could　so　master　Fillide　by　her　wrath

and　jealousy　that　he　could　command　her　acquiescence　in　all　he

proposed。　　The　papers　he　had　purloinedDesmoulins'

correspondence　with　Glyndonwhile　it　insured　the　fate　of　the

latter；　might　be　eminently　serviceable　to　Robespierre；　might

induce　the　tyrant　to　forget　his　own　old　liaisons　with　Hebert；　and

enlist　him　among　the　allies　and　tools　of　the　King　of　Terror。

Hopes　of　advancement；　of　wealth；　of　a　career；　again　rose　before

him。　　This　correspondence；　dated　shortly　before　Camille

Desmoulins'　death；　was　written　with　that　careless　and　daring

imprudence　which　characterised　the　spoiled　child　of　Danton。　　It

spoke　openly　of　designs　against　Robespierre；　it　named

confederates　whom　the　tyrant　desired　only　a　popular　pretext　to

crush。　　It　was　a　new　instrument　of　death　in　the　hands　of　the

Death…compeller。　　What　greater　gift　could　he　bestow　on　Maximilien

the　Incorruptible？



Nursing　these　thoughts；　he　arrived　at　last　before　the　door　of

Citizen　Dupleix。　　Around　the　threshold　were　grouped；　in　admired

confusion；　some　eight　or　ten　sturdy　Jacobins；　the　voluntary　body…

guard　of　Robespierre；tall　fellows；　well　armed；　and　insolent

with　the　power　that　reflects　power；　mingled　with　women；　young　and

fair；　and　gayly　dressed；　who　had　come；　upon　the　rumour　that

Maximilien　had　had　an　attack　of　bile；　to　inquire　tenderly　of　his

health；　for　Robespierre；　strange　though　it　seem；　was　the　idol　of

the　sex！



Through　this　cortege　stationed　without　the　door；　and　reaching　up

the　stairs　to　the　landing…place；for　Robespierre's　apartments

were　not　spacious　enough　to　afford　sufficient　antechamber　for

levees　so　numerous　and　miscellaneous；Nicot　forced　his　way；　and

far　from　friendly　or　flattering　were　the　expressions　that　regaled

his　ears。



〃Aha；　le　joli　Polichinelle！〃　said　a　comely　matron；　whose　robe　his

obtrusive　and　angular　elbows　cruelly　discomposed。　　〃But　how　could

one　expect　gallantry　from　such　a　scarecrow！〃



〃Citizen；　I　beg　to　advise　thee　（The　courteous　use　of　the　plural

was　proscribed　at　Paris。　　The　Societies　Populaires　had　decided

that　whoever　used　it　should　be　prosecuted　as　suspect　et

adulateur！　　At　the　door　of　the　public　administrations　and　popular

societies　was　written　up；　〃Ici　on　s'honore　du　Citoyen；　et　on　se

tutoye〃！！！　（〃Here　they　respect　the　title　of　Citizen；　and　they

'thee'　and　'thou'　one　another。〃）　　Take　away　Murder　from　the

French　Revolution　and　it　becomes　the　greatest　farce　ever　played

before　the　angels！）　that　thou　art　treading　on　my　feet。　　I　beg　thy

pardon；　but　now　I　look　at　thine；　I　see　the　hall　is　not　wide

enough　for　them。〃



〃Ho！　Citizen　Nicot；〃　cried　a　Jacobin；　shouldering　his　formidable

bludgeon；　〃and　what　brings　thee　hither？thinkest　thou　that

Hebert's　crimes　are　forgotten　already？　　Off；　sport　of　Nature！　and

thank　the　Etre　Supreme　that　he　made　thee　insignificant　enough　to

be　forgiven。〃



〃A　pretty　face　to　look　out　of　the　National　Window〃　（The

Guillotine。）；　said　the　woman　whose　robe　the　painter　had　ruffled。



〃Citizens；〃　said　Nicot；　white　with　passion；　but　constraining

himself　so　that　his　words　seemed　to