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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；